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[41810]

[In what couldn't possibly for any reason be some form of horrible ploy, there's another post from J! This is an action/video tag, for the curious, because today, J actually left his basement, my god. I know, right!? It's unbelievable. He's up in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich, because, for some reason, he felt compelled to take care of

Comments

[seesyou]

[A little later--not too long, though long enough for J to perhaps have a visitor or a conversation or two to fool him into thinking that everything is normal, there's a sudden chill, a certain hum in the air of the kitchen; anyone watching J's transmission will see it split and waver.

Someone else noticed that strange sensation that J had earlier, and he--or it--isn't pleased. It has occurred to him, insofar as things occur to him in the normal human sense of the word, that he is not where he is supposed to be.

It draws him out of his dormancy. It puts him on the hunt.]

[41810]

[Wow, it's suddenly cold in here.

J pauses, shifts slightly, looking over his shoulder with an odd feeling of unease. His bag is near the door, and there's a camera in there, of course. For a split second, he thinks about running over to it, switching it on, getting the hell out of here.

But that animalistic, primal gut instinct that is usually never, ever wrong shifts into the back, and he frowns to himself, looking down at the counter.

It's just a draft, right?]

HELL NO IT'S NOT A DRAFT I mean yeah just eat your sandwich, it'll be fine

[seesyou]

[There isn't anything there. He can look all around him if he likes, he can check any corner. The room is entirely empty.

And then a shadow passes over him, long and lean, bringing a cold, crawling feeling almost like wetness oozing across his back.]

mmm, it's turkey

[41810]

[Tentatively he bites into his sandwich and picks it up before dropping it immediately upon feeling the shadow. His spine stiffens up, he gasps slightly, he stops moving completely.

He shouldn't feel shadows.

There shouldn't even be shadows here.

A very disturbing panic settles itself coldly in the pit of his stomach and his mind goes completely blank. In the back of his head, he knows he knows that feeling. He knows this fear. He knows what's going to happen.

For a good minute, he just stands there, totally still, barely even breathing.

And then he runs for the camera.]

[blimeyjamwalls]

[ Daniel is also making a sandwich. But by "sandwich" we mean bread and cheese and pickled onions in no particular arrangement, and by "making" we mean he's picking it up ready-made from a table.

He's around J's age, but he couldn't look much more different, what with the high collar and tightly-tailored coat and vest and the buttons, oh the many buttons. He gives J a look up and down that's somewhat embarrassed. By early Victorian standards, J is dressing down so far that he might as well be in his underwear.

Maybe someday Daniel will strike lucky and meet someone who isn't from a ridiculous amount of time in the future!

Or maybe he never will and he'll have to put up with t-shirts and wanton coatlessness forever and ever. At least he hasn't run into Santana yet. ]

[41810]

[J doesn't notice him.]

[and then holy hell, he notices him. He looks over uneasily, raising an eyebrow, and then frowns.] ... What is that..?

[blimeyjamwalls]

[ Gads, he got caught staring.

Daniel looks over his shoulder. Several days in the mansion not getting killed by things has done a lot to ease his nerves, so it's not as jumpy as it might be. But to his ears, it sounded like J was asking about something.

He looks back at J with just as much unease. ]

What is what...?

[41810]

... That.

[He drawls out the word a little, his voice uneasy, pointing at whatever gooey mess that so-called sandwich is.]