[network] @ADMIN; Arrival [open]

[snowblindmods]

Welcome to Norfinbury. The time is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R and the date is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R. This network has been provided for your use. Please interact politely with everyone else on this network.
E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫ E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̨̢͎͎̗̦͈͎̘R̨̘̦̙̖̳͈͟R̢̞̺͖̩̟̻͙͕̩͜O̢̢̼͉͔̟̯̝͇̙͜͠R̴̛̗̝͕̣̘͙̪͖̀͟:̢̢͉̙̥̝͖͉̯̟͇̖̱̖͓̲̳ ͏̴͉͈͈̦̝̦͉͖̖͉̪̝̠̭I͡҉̣̼̜̩̻̜͓̻̳̼̥̭̯̭̫͉̭ͅL̶͖͖̯̝̥̬̖̤̥̹͎̟̬̻̦̜̝̻̗͟͞Ļ̸̸̸̥̺̝̜̭̘̞͈͎͚͉E̶͍͍͈̬̕͜͟G̳̬͉̙̥̩̼̭̦͔͘͜͡À̴͟҉̤͔͇̩̳͝ͅL̟͉̯̥̝̀͢͝ ͏҉͈͎͇̞̪̬͓͎̖̥̜̦̖̜O̺̹̺̜͉̠͉̠͇̭̣͔͡͞P̢͘͜҉̺̝̥͎̜Ḙ̢͔͇̰͇̯̺͇͓̜Ŗ̦̝̫̯̻̰͍͙̼̮͎̕ͅA̸̬̯͉͓̥̕͢͞ͅT̷̡͎̻̳̥Ḭ̵̡̥̭̥̀͞O̴͈̤͚͇̜͘͘͞N̢̬͕̙̫̦̳̫̭͖͙̤.̧͢͜҉̩̼̬̞̟̻͇̭͖ ̳̝̺̯̣̠̣̲͎̝̞̣̭̫͘͠S̡̧̼͈̱̳̰̰̳̻̺̫̝͈͖͎ͅH̦̖̣̦̱͓͙͓̣́͜͠͠Ù̸͎̹̼̱͈͇̼̼̕ͅͅṰ̤̝̦̞͍̮̦̞̼̪͕̹̬͈͝T͞͏̟͖͔̯̼̫̞̥̣̘͉̫̟ͅI̢͖̪̮̺̰̟͎͈͇̻͈͔͉̱̯͓̻͞N̢̨̮̱͕̣͟Ģ̸̝̟͚̩͙͖ͅ ҉̴̝̭̩̯̫̤̼̬͇͡ͅD̨͏̺͎̝̟͔͉͕̲̮͎̦͓̥͕̹͓̮̖̘̀͠Ǫ̵͍͇̝̱̖̳̦͖͡W̸̧̩͕̹̹̬̰̻̣̣͓̞̼̮̦̺͟͞͡N̡̛̫͙̠͚̠̲̙̟̤͔̦͙ͅ.҉̢̻̝̦͓̀̕͠

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Clayton Epps | Day 1, OTA

[dr_unconscious]

A - Morning - Network (ID: claytonator), Video

[He was going to the store.]

[Was he? Waking up in this strange, dark, cold little cabin, still in his pajamas and with no memory of how he got here, Clayton is almost tempted to call the previous morning's activities a dream. It wouldn't be the first time he's woken up in a strange house with the lingering images of a vivid dream and a hazy recollection of how he got there. Sometimes he'll even wake up to someone's alarm.]

[That's what he assumes the tablet is. With a groan of protest, Clayton reaches to the nightstand and slaps around until he finds something suitably large. The tablet notes his touch and moves along to the registration process. As it's shut up, Clayton decides to try and fall back asleep.]

[About two minutes later, he realizes how strange this situation is.]

[After some semi-serious, semi-frantic searching around the house and calling to the invisible owner of the home (alternating "hello" and "your tablet's going off"), Clayton returns to the master bedroom completely stumped. It looks like it's snowing out of the foggy windows. Awfully early for snow. Impulsively Clayton reaches for his phone to check the weather, only to realize that he doesn't have any mobile service. Where is this? The sticks?]

[There's a balcony connected to the bedroom--maybe that will give him a better view of the area, or some kind of identifying marker other than "Norfinbury." He wanders out]

[comes back in]

[and immediately goes for the tablet. It said something about a "network," didn't it? There must be people on here...Clayton flashes through the setup, enters a junk name that he uses on forums, and after briefly skimming what looks like a social networking site, starts looking around for a video app. Of course there is one.]

[Posted to the network is about forty-five seconds of recorded footage. It begins facing up at the roof, then the tablet is picked up and held out to show Clayton's nervous, smiling face. He's smiling because he's on video. It's an impulse thing.]

Hey! [Clayton gives a small wave.] Clayton Epps. Now I know this is kinda weird, but my phone ain't workin' and...I'm not sure what else to do.

[He shrugs, then stands up from the bed and spins the tablet around. The closed doors to the balcony are ahead. Clayton keeps up a running commentary from behind.]

So I woke up here 'bout...thirty minutes ago? I dunno, the clock's all wrong. [The ensemble stops in front of the doors. Clayton's other hand appears from underneath to open them.] Only looked over things once. Anyone else's phones and stuff actin' up like this? It's real weird. [The door pops open.] --Alright, alright, now look at this.

[He steps out onto the balcony. From the second floor, Clayton's cabin has a view of absolutely jack shit. This is remarkable to him. It's all white, for what looks like miles, with decent enough cloud-cover and snowfall to shield the horizon. After about ten seconds of panning around, the camera focuses on a small, black blip in the far distance. Clayton would place this as the southwest if he had a compass to work with.]

[This goes on for a few more seconds; then Clayton makes an uncomfortable noise and hurries back inside, closing the doors behind him. When he turns the tablet around again, he's noticeably shivering and trying to warm up his arm with vigorous strokes of his free hand.]

Everyone else's view look somethin' like that, or am I alone here?

B - Morning -> Late Afternoon - Action, blocks U4, U5 and V4

[There's no way Clayton can make it to that dot in the distance, not without warmer clothes and some shoes, but his current location proves disappointing in terms of provisions. A full house but barely any belongings, a cute mug but no running water, a grand fireplace but no wood...that bottle in his backpack is only going to last him so long, and without a way to melt a lot of snow at once, dehydration is a real danger so far out from civilization. He needs to do some searching.]

[First he looks around his immediate area. Only rubble here, a spare plank of wood...that's promising enough to make him wonder if his eyes are deceiving him and he can actually get to that far-off landmark. He heads south into more snow.]

[Shortly thereafter, he turns back. His socks are getting very wet and starting to seep into his sweatpants. He's going to lose his feet like this. Clayton spends as much time as he can in the southern block, hoping to find more goodies in the scattered piles of junk, but he can't take the risk and go out further. He returns home and sticks around to try and dry off his socks.]

[Later in the day, feeling desperate and lonely, he tries going east instead. There's more rubble here, but Clayton's toes are dangerously numb; he spends even less time looking through this place before turning back and retiring for the evening.]

[Certain exceptions are made, of course, if he finds another face to talk to.]

C - Early Evening - Network, Text

[It's very quiet around here.]

[Only one day of the cold and nothing but the wind pounding at the windows, and already Clayton is miserable. He hates being pinned in like this. He hates it even more when night falls and the paranoia sets in. He's too anxious to sleep, both from prevailing loneliness and the feeling that this house, large and empty as it is, is containing him. Like he's trapped in a tin can and slowly being squeezed.]

[He's already discovered that he can't meditate, so trying to reach out mentally is out of the question. He's played too many games on his phone and the battery has run out, which he was afraid of. The tablet, which he's been carefully preserving to avoid the same fate, seems not to have lost any power at all. How strange.]

[This, at least, gives Clayton the boldness to find distraction through the network instead.]

Clayton again. Is everyone still here? Did anyone find anything new?

Nothing good here. Lots of snow. Can't travel far. At least there's a roof over my head and somewhere comfortable to sleep.

Hope everyone's doing okay. Please check in, if you can.

A (video) | ID: thelonewanderer

[vaultexile]

Where are you from that had working phones?

[Hope looks impressed.]

My pip-boy seems to have lost half its functions overnight somehow. I've never seen that before and it's been through a lot back home.

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton answers the video response as he's sitting down at the dining room table. He was previously searching through the kitchen, which, even if it was successful, he would have dropped everything he was doing regardless to get back to her. The meager fruits of his labor--a single coffee mug with "#1 MOM" stenciled on the side--is set down on the tabletop at the camera's peripheral.]

Uh...Illinois? [The cup disappears as Clayton uses it to prop up the back of the tablet. Now Hope can clearly see his very confused expression.] Run that by me again. What kind of thing's a "pip-boy?"

[vaultexile]

They have phones working in Illinois again? That's amazing. We just got our main water source clean in the Capital Wasteland.

[Wait question right. She holds up her left arm with this thing on it. The screen is blurry because of the light coming from it but it's greenish.]

I grew up in one of the vaults, we all got them. Normally it does a lot more and I can even get maps on it, but it does almost nothing now. At least the geiger counter still works. Nothing but static from the radio though.

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton leans forward slightly and squints, as if this might improve the resolution somehow. He gets the distinct impression that they're operating on some level of disconnect.]

"Vault." [Like...one of those apocalypse shelters people build in their backyards sometimes? No wonder she doesn't know phones work, if she's been kept in one of those! It's weird, but it's hardly Clayton's place to judge. Instead, he drops the implied question and leans back in his chair with a broad smile.] Neat! I'll bet that's nifty, having all that on your arm all the time where you can get to it easy. 'Stead, we got these little things.

[Clayton reaches under the table, shuffles around in his pockets and procures a small, thin smartphone with a sleek black casing. New 2019 model. It always confused him how they came up with the next year's series a few months before it started. He holds it up in front of the tablet and clicks the screen on and off a few times.]

Here's what we got. See? Drop this sucker and it shatters like grandma's vase on a feather duster. Pain in the rear, if you ask me.

[vaultexile]

Oh wow. That's not very durable. This things been through explosions, fire fights and more then a few impromptu swimming trips. It doesn't have a phone in it but we didn't even have those in the vault.

You know the ones Vault-tec set up? They must have had some in Illonois. That was in the Great Midwest Commonwealth pre-war I think.

[Wow she hasn't had history class in like forever.]

[dr_unconscious]

[He would be glad to wave away all recognition of this mysterious "Vault-tec" and weird misunderstandings involving politics in Illinois, if not for one very alarming thing. The words make him squint again and mouth part in immediate skepticism.]

Fire-fights? [Clayton quirks an eyebrow.] Wouldn't 've pegged you as a military type, little lady. Color me surprised!

C: Text (ID is LELRIC)

[armoured]

[Somehow, over the howling wind and the intermittent sound of his own conversation, Al somehow manages to miss Clayton's earlier broadcasts. It's not until the quiet of night falls, when he's left alone with a gnawing anxiety that he can't place, when he properly examines the strange tablet and sees the message written over his screen.

There's no response for a full minute as Al tries to figure out how to reply with the text function, and when it does come, it's riddled with evidence that tablets are not meant to be used by someone with giant metal armour fingers.]

Travellrd quite far toda yand found snother house.

[This isn't working, is it?]

bless

[dr_unconscious]

[...Clayton can just about parse that. He's a little too polite to point it out, though. He can accommodate. This is fine.]

Really? That's good news. [It means traveling from his current location to the distant one in a day, without dropping all his toes, might be doable! If he can find something to cover his feet, anyway.] Do you know how long it took you to find the other house?

[armoured]

[He's smart, give him a few weeks and he'll work out all the functions with text to voice and so on.]

FFrew.

[No, no, this really isn't working, so Al gives up in frustration and switches to voice, as he's already semi-mastered that.]

It took a few hours walking, I found a couple of houses in tact with things in them, but... nobody else.

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton allows himself to chuckle a little bit at that first message. He doesn't have a whole lot to be amused about right now. He'll take what he can get.]

[He at least has the decency to sober up before switching to voice.]

All empty? That's no good. Wonder where everyone went? I mean, none of us are from 'round here, right? Don't seem like it.

[armoured]

I'm not sure, but I don't like what I've found so far. I walked all day today, though I don't think I got very far because of the snow, and I found a few houses that weren't demolished... everything inside was empty and deserted, though. I found a place with lots of cages and tanks, with the bones of the small animals still inside.

[He's not got enough knowledge of anatomy to have positively identified them as the gerbils, guinea pigs, and reptiles that they were.]

[dr_unconscious]

[This makes him more uncertain. It took him a few hours just to search the area to one side of his house this morning, and there was nothing in sight...he's not sure he could last walking the whole day without some sturdier footwear. The news only gets worse from there.]

Aw, poor things. Guess it makes sense, though, with nobody to feed 'em.

[There's a long pause as he thinks over the implications more thoroughly.]

...They must've left in a hurry, you think? The folks takin' care of 'em I mean. Little critters are easy to carry around if you're movin'--don't make sense to leave 'em behind.

A- Voice: ID- George Milton

[bindlestifflost]

[George has stared at the tablet completely transfixed for the entire duration of the display. It's hard for him to wrap his head around what he has seen, much less how it was accomplished.

The only hint as to what's going on is the ID on the screen. Text and voices have also had IDs. He can only assume this is another person who woke up here, or it's one hell of a trick.

He manages to activate the voice function, closest thing to a telephone as far as he can tell.]

How're you doin' that??

[First things first.]

[dr_unconscious]

[The first thing that comes over the other side of the call is the sound of a small sigh. Sounds like everyone is just as confused as he is, about different things. It would be nice if there was someone around who could explain all of this.]

[Wishful thinking, though. Clayton and his boundless patience is willing to wait and help where he can. He puts on a warm, friendly voice.]

Simple! Just used the video app. It's the little icon that looks like a camera. You ever used a tablet before, bud?

voice --> video

[bindlestifflost]

[Nothing on the thing really looks like a camera to him. He touches the closest thing. There's suddenly a view of the sky over his shoulder, part of his hat brim, and about a fourth of a grim, sharp featured face.]

That do anything? Doc give me some tablets before for a toothache. What's that got ta do with anything?

voice -> video

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton had the sneaking suspicion that this is the kind of video he was going to get.] Yeah, you got it! Hold on a sec.

[And a moment later, Clayton has also switched over. He's chuckling affectionately, and the wide grin splitting his face is partially hidden by his hand waving in one direction.]

You might want to move it a touch right. [Then, more earnestly: ] A tablet's what you're usin'! You mean you ain't never even heard of a tablet before?

[bindlestifflost]

[With one eyebrow arched, George does as asked. Now his full face is in the frame, sun browned and weathered, and of an indeterminate age. He could be anywhere from his late twenties to forty. He doesn't look amused.]

I jes' told you I got some from the doc. If you mean this kind, it goes without sayin', don't it?

[It never occurs to him someone else would have seen one of these things before. Although now he's starting to question that.]

You're tellin' me you know this thing? You a Fed or somethin'?

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton is not a good judge of age, but he is a good judge of character. He sobers, enough to dampen his grin to a thinner smile, but he's determined to stay warm and welcoming. It won't do either of them any good to get worked up and frustrated in a place like this--not when they're both alone and confused and looking for information. Clayton can at least help there.]

My fault, don't mean nothin' by it. You just don't see a whole lot o' folk nowadays who ain't never...hmm.

[This situation is starting to sound awfully familiar. Clayton rests his chin in the palm of his hand and has a good think.]

...Naw, not a Fed. Least, don't think I am. [Clayton squints at the tablet.] Tell me...ah. Milton, ain't it? [Guy has a very straightforward username, for what appears to be a very straightforward man.] If you don't mind. What year is it?

C; action!!

[figureitout]

[It's maybe fifteen minutes to the time they're all warned to be inside, otherwise bad things would happen-- fifteen minutes, and the front door is slammed open in a way that is in no way approaching graceful, and someone stumbles in, sneakers making a squealing noise against the floor.

It's also quickly apparent whoever made said noise is making more of it, this time by talking. To himself, too.]

Oh my god, how is it so cold? I have this jacket, and it's still so cold! I hate cold. [A pause.] I hope this place isn't half snowed-in.

[Another pause, longer this time, as the mystery person looks around the entrance hall, and then he seems to realize--] Right, there could be- Uh, hello? Hi? Anyone here?

[Did he get used to only speaking to people through the network? In just a day? Damn.]

!!!

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton nearly falls out of bed. The only reason why he's able to stop himself is because he doesn't want to make too much noise--doesn't want to let whoever just barged into the house to know that it's already occupied. What if it's whoever brought him here? What if it's the owner of the house? They'll see the odd plank in the middle of the room, some of the cupboards rummaged through and items placed on the counters, an odd coffee mug sitting in the living room. They're going to think he's some kind of intruder. He is an intruder. They're going to be angry. He has to defend himself. This is serious. This is--]

[--absolutely ridiculous paranoid ramblings, is what it is. Clayton firmly smacks a palm to his head in an attempt to will such unwanted thoughts out and is mostly successful. Actually listening to the voice of whoever has entered does the rest. It's just some kid. He even has the decency to call, too, which only serves to make Clayton more aware of how weird and jumpy he's feeling. He rolls off the mattress in the downstairs bedroom and carefully pads his way to the door.]

Hello? [The door cracks open. Clayton peers out, eyebrow raised.] I'd tell you to come in, but uh...

[figureitout]

[As Clayton peers out of the door, three things happen simultaneously: the overall hyper-awareness and paranoia that has set in to Stiles as well makes him be completely unprepared for there to actually be someone in the house, so he 1) jumps, 2) flails with his hands and 3) yells very loudly.

... no, that was a lie. Four things, because the draft of the wind slams the front door closed behind him, making him to jump again.]

AAAAHHHHHHOHMYGOD, dude! I almost had a heart attack! And a heart attack at eighteen is pretty pathetic, so how about no?

[JESUS CHRIST. Stiles breathes out, bites his lip and runs a hand through his hair, then focusing on the guy peering at him from between the doorway to the-- bedroom, maybe? Right, so there is actually people here, who knew. That's- something, he guesses, to know all the people on the network are most likely actual people, wandering around here just like him. And this dude.]

Okay, so-- apparently the whole "the network is actually people scattered around Norfinbury" thing isn't a total lie. [He clasps his hands together and tries his best to look composed. Fingers crossed this guy isn't an axe murderer.]

[dr_unconscious]

[Those are three (four!) very alarming things to happen all at once! Clayton gasps and hops backwards in a considerably subdued reflection of what Stiles just did. He ends up back in the bedroom, hands raised and shoulders hunched, waiting for his guest to settle down a little bit.]

...Oh sweet jesus. [This does not mean Clayton has fully calmed down yet. One of his raised hands comes up to gently grip at the front of his t-shirt while he takes deep, steadying breaths.] Yeah, tell me about it. A heart attack at thirty ain't so great neither. Pecker... [He slumps, finally, and recovers with a relieved sort of chuckle.] ...Damn, if I ain't happy to see a real face 'round here. Sorry 'bout that! What's your name, kid?

[figureitout]

[Thirty, an accent and chuckles doesn't exactly spell axe murderer, so Stiles relaxes a little -- a little, because relaxing entirely would just be, you know, stupid. And the kind of thing that gets you killed. But he lifts his hand to his hair, running it through and settling at scratching his neck as he breathes out, too.]

Right. Uh, I'm Stiles. You?

And... yeah, I was starting to think if I was just talking to myself and the tablet just made everything up. [But obviously not, so-- that much is a relief, at least.]

[dr_unconscious]

Stiles. [The night's paranoia is catching up to him, just enough to make him very aware of how tense his guest is being. He does not offer a hand for him to shake. Clayton will feel very bad about this later.] Clayton. Ain't the best situation, I know, but it's nice to meet ya.

[He smiles, pleasant and warm, to emphasize the greeting. He is happy to meet him! The first person he's seen all day! What an excellent feeling!] I get ya. Here-- [Clayton abruptly turns to nab his backpack and tablet so he can migrate out of the bedroom.] --grab a seat in the livin' room. You have a long trip? Are ya hungry?