Christmas Party~

[precursor_dax]

Characters: EVERYONE!!!
When: Dec. 24th(evening) - 25th(all day)
Where: The Eco Barrel(Daxter's club)
Rating: PG(may go up)
Summary: Daxter promised a Christmas party. Here it is~

Comments

[planseverything]

Bentley was only there because he was expecting that Sly would turn up, as he said he was coming to the party. But he soon parked beside the bar, a short distance from the RED, in his much smaller wheelchair and helped himself to a soda. Mingling was not his forte and never had been.

[planseverything]

"Of course. Creatures such as grizzly bears, giant wolves, elephants, and crocodiles...to give a few examples. There are also domesticated pets and beasts of burden."

Obviously this was perfectly normal.

[hasstandards]

Despite his earlier efforts, Sniper couldn't help but stare a little as he tried to piece together what he was hearing. This world of animals where they apparently had the same countries, but the people were nonexistent. And to top it off, their fellow creatures were apparently still game.

"Ain't that a bit like slavery, havin' beasts of burden in a place where everyone is technically... you know. An animal. And what about hunting? S'that count as murder?"

[planseverything]

"I never really considered it. I wouldn't call it slavery, but I strongly disapprove of abuse of the natural world. I'll have to assume that the animals that are not sentient...people like us, are the same as the ones as all animals in the world you come from. As far as hunting it's not considered murder, but frowned upon if it is not out of necessity."

[hasstandards]

Sniper grabbed another pretzel with his splints, cramming it into his mouth to help stifle the urge to note that he didn't consider the talking turtle to be 'people like us.' Sure, he seemed like a smart bloke, but the fact was that he was still some kind of a chattering creature. In front of Sniper's mind's eye danced the mental image of everyone he knew, but if they were an animal. Pyro called him a dog enough- this world the turtle came from seemed like her kind of place.

After a moment of being lost in thought, it occurred to Sniper that he was staring again. He blamed his lack of mental focus on the painkillers the nurses had given him, for now. He turned away, focusing his eyes on a fixed point across the room. "Ah. Apologies, mate. This is just a bit weird for me is all."

[planseverything]

"Understandable."

Bentley didn't fully succeed in brushing off the staring, but he thought he did an adequate job. "In a place like this everything we know seems to be challenged at one point or another."

[hasstandards]

"Or challenged all at once," Sniper grumbled, holding a pretzel in his teeth before snapping it in half. "How anyone gets used to living here is beyond me."

[planseverything]

"I'll guess that having had to adapt wherever we came from originally is a huge influence on the ability to adapt here."

Taking his soda again he frowned into it. "From what I've observed, there is not an individual here presently who is what could be considered an ordinary person."

[hasstandards]

"What's that supposed to mean?" He got that not everyone was a mercenary or a talking animal or a magician, but he couldn't help but wonder why he, or anyone else for that matter, had been brought to Paradise. If there was something that determined why someone was there, maybe it could be figured out how to get the so-called gods who ran the place to send them back, if possible.

[planseverything]

"Just that it appears as though any of us can be considered average. The ones who adapted the fastestmay have had major changes to adjust to and thus were used to change, or found a way to change the situation to their advantage."

[hasstandards]

Sniper pushed another pretzel into his mouth. He almost hated to admit it, but the talking turtle had a point. He'd heard it from Pyro, too- he needed to adjust, to adapt to what was going to be his life for the time being. While there, he no longer had his job in an official capacity; however, he still had a job to do. Accepting that mission was something with which he was still coming to terms.

The point was that he had to change as the situation called for it. He was reluctant, but it was the only way to stay on top of the game. He was a hunter, and he lived by the code of survival of the fittest. If he did nothing when cornered, he'd be dead.

"That's a good way of putting it," he said, grinding his teeth on that pretzel. Now if only he could find some coffee with which to wash it down.

There was a pause before his next question. He usually didn't care for names, though he found himself curious if the animals had them. He expected as much, but it didn't hurt to ask, he supposed. "You gotta name?"

[planseverything]

"Perhaps you can apply something you know to your life here, to give yourself a sense of stability while you adjust."

Bentley hadn't worked a normal job his entire life and had never truly been alone for more than a week or two before his arrival here.

"Bentley Wiseturtle. And yourself?"

[hasstandards]

Pyro's words, followed by Miss Pauling's assessment that finding something he could relate to his job and use that to create a sense of stability in his life. No headshots, but he could still play support to his teammates. He was still who he was when he left- he was missing his gun, but the person he'd built himself to be hadn't changed as much as he thought it did.

And now, the talking turtle suggested he take that a step further- he was still Sniper, and through working his job to the best of his current capabilities, he could find that stability he craved so badly. A wise turtle, indeed.

"I go by Sniper," he answered.

[planseverything]

He had to be for most of his unconventional career. Taking the most efficient routes in anything was required for him to gain information on and plan around new situations.

"Sniper? I see. You must work with guns."

[hasstandards]

"Very astute of you," RED said, not keeping his sarcasm in check in the least. He tried again: "It's my job."

[planseverything]

Bentley just looked at him at the sarcastic remark. "What kind of guns?"