[log] you always dirty up the windows [closed]

[keepscalm]

Characters: Hope, Bard, England, and America
Location N1, building 62
Date: Day 004, night (shortly before curfew; very shortly)
Summary: Sometimes you find friends, and sometimes you find strangers. Sometimes both at once! Poor Bard.
Warnings: None to my knowledge. Will edit if anything comes up.

[England knows he's cutting it close; the feeling in his fingers has been on and off, mostly off, ever since he went through all that rubble without anywhere to stop. What he'd do for a proper pair of gloves. He's been searching up and down for them, but he hasn't found any, nor has he found the materials to craft them on his own.

He checks the time on his tablet just as he sees the house coming up through the snow. Just a bit closer, just a little more...! His shoes weren't made for this weather either, and he'll need a new pair when he returns home, not to mention his poor suit.

England bursts in through the front door with little preamble when he finally comes up on the house, heaving a huge sigh of relief and shifting his rucksack on his shoulders as he closes the door behind him. It doesn't occur to him that he's not alone. Why would it, when it's so hard to find anyone in this town?

But he'll realise shortly...]

Comments

[pointnshoot]

[Bard's internal clock is still a bit of a mess, the days here too long for the winter he was expecting or really any winter at all. He's not particularly good at watching the clock, either, preferring to leave his tablet-mirror-thing in his pack during the day, so he doesn't even realize that night and a locked door are nearly upon him.

He does, however, notice the sounds of someone arriving downstairs while he's checking drawers in the master bedroom. A little flair of panic seizes his gut briefly--the instinctive "oh shit" reaction of being caught thieving, even though he hasn't outright stolen anything since he was a boy, much less been caught doing it--before sense takes over and he realizes it's either one of the others trapped in this place or someone he can stab.

Probably not the latter, actually, but Bard lives in hope. He creeps towards the top of the stairs, fully intending to introduce himself properly once he's got a better idea of who or what he's dealing with, but then one of the floorboards beneath his feet creaks so loudly and with so little provocation that he's quite sure he's lost the element of surprise.]

[fifty]

[America, oblivious to any concerns or non-concerns of anyone who happens to be inside the building he's running toward, is only focused on getting through the door. He's definitely pushing it and his tablet has been warning him for almost an hour now. But almost isn't exactly an hour, so he still has time, as long as he just--

America plows through the door with all the grace of a charging grizzly bear, taking several very loud and noisy steps through the entryway just out of momentum keeping him barreling forward. He leaves the door hanging open, but immediately after he enters it the door slams shut on its own.

He made it, but barely.]

[keepscalm]

[Bard can get a glimpse of England sliding his rucksack off of his shoulders so he can set it on the floor, but that's about all before the floorboard creaks. That's enough to alert England, and he abruptly straightens up from where he'd been about to open his bag, turning his gaze toward the source of the sound.

Perhaps fortunately, America's loud arrival prevents him from reaching for anything that would allow him to do anything rash. He doesn't have time to fully absorb Bard's presence before he has to register America's— and that's a bit of a task, given their situation.

He stares at America in shock for only about a second, but it feels much longer than that from his perspective. His mouth hangs open a bit stupidly. He'd like to say something, but— there's still someone else in the house. They're not alone.

He glances once between America and the direction of the creaking floorboards two different times before finally turning his full attention to the source of the sound.] Oi! Is someone else here?

[pointnshoot]

[On the one hand, so far as Bard is aware the people he's trapped with in this strange city know nothing about whoever keeps them here, which means any encountered being must be treated with caution. On the other hand, it doesn't seem like some grand mastermind or their faithful servant would need a pack like Bard's, or have any concern for the doors locking overnight.

More importantly, whoever has them here has never spoken except through those blasted @admin posts, which is further weight to whoever's downstairs being an ally rather than an enemy, and even if Bard is wrong, it sounds like there are only the two of them. He can handle two people. Certainly.]

Peace, friends. I was only looking around upstairs. [Look, he'll even stand at the top stair where he can be seen without sacrificing the high ground.]

oh no I never got a notification for this...

[fifty]

[America looks, stunned, at England, but only until England speaks up and America properly connects the creaking with another person and not just the wind outside. He looks up at the stairs and, well, does what he does best--ignore the uncertain, sort of tense atmosphere. If he tramples right over it, it should go away.]

Hey! Man, for a while I thought I'd never find anyone!

[vaultexile]

[Hope meanwhile has been hiding ever since she heard someone come into the house....and then more people come into the house and start to talk. She'll slowly come out of the room she's been crouched in.

They don't seem to be about to kill each other so there's that.]

Hello?

[keepscalm]

[America's insistence on being obtuse doesn't mean England has to be; England watches the man at the top of the stairs with wordless scrutiny for a moment. Then a fourth voice catches his attention, and he'd deny it, but he's a bit startled to hear it.

He looks toward the room that Hope has just come out of, looking her over.] ...good evening. [This time, he looks between her and Bard, and then, slowly, his gaze slides sidelong toward the locked door.]

Well. It looks like we'll all be sharing lodging tonight. I trust no one has any objections? [Might as well cut to the chase, albeit in a more subtle manner than outright suggesting that someone might have violence on their agenda. At least if either of the other two have ill intentions, England has America on his side.]

[pointnshoot]

You'll hear no complaint from me. [The girl showing up as well makes this whole situation feel like a comedy routine, but Bard really can't find it in himself to mind: three whole other people in one place feels far more real than a few dozen names on a screen, and will likely be better company besides.

There no longer seems any point holding higher ground, so he starts to walk down the stairs, deliberately relaxing his posture as he goes. Calm begets calm more often than not, and hopefully this will be such a time.] I am called Bard.

[fifty]

[When America sees Hope, he brightens even more--which is apparently possible. England should understand, with the change in posture and excitement; even if she's from a terrible post-apocalyptic wasteland, Hope is his. His citizen--the first one he's seen in person since he arrived here.]

Hey! Hope, right? We talked over the network before. I'm America! [That last bit is announced to the entire room.] Since we're all locked in, objecting would be pretty dumb. Even if we weren't, it's super cold out, who'd want to go back out there at night?

[vaultexile]

[Hope smiles as well and she walks further out of the room. Well she's talked to two out of the three here. That's not bad.]

That's me. Nice to meet you in person America. You too Bard.

[keepscalm]

[Why is America so stupid.

It's pointless to try and keep his cover with America around; if he gives his human name, he's sure America will just respond with confusion and give it away, and then he'll look deceptive. Which would be pretty bad, since he's trying not to give either of these strangers reason to attack him.]

That wasn't what I meant. [But this is grumbled as an aside. England straightens up and sniffs, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket even though it doesn't really do much to improve his weather-worn appearance.] England. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, both of you.

[pointnshoot]

Well-met, all of you. [Though it sounds like this England fellow already knows one of the others, Bard is in no hurry to pry the information free when they're all trapped together for the next ten hours.] I've searched my fill and found only thread and an oddly-shaped ball to be of any note, but you're all welcome to take a turn yourselves.