got a taste of you, threw up all night

[campjesus]

It's technically early morning on Tuesday, but it's still dark out, so close enough to being Monday night, and Brody has not slept yet. Typical. He's lying on the floor of Stigmata, on his stomach just in front of the kitchen, which smells fucking fantastic because he's making something in there. There's a wide variety of maps spread in front of

Comments

[galeforcehero]

"Goin' somewhere, kiddo?"

Hi, Brody, Dorothy's exactly the same as she always is. Also it smells fantastic in there, so she's in a pretty good mood. No matter what time of night it is, somehow. This can probably be blamed on her most recent of time traveling excursions; since she doesn't really control when she gets dropped off, her body clock takes a while to adjust back to normal daylight hours. She marches over and peers at Brody's maps.

[campjesus]

"Uh huh." His maps are of New York through Canada; right now he's marking toll roads (so he remembers to bring change) in Wisconsin. What is with Brody taking these insanely long road trips all the time? Jesus. He is wearing a hat with a tiny cartoon bat on the front of it. Of course.

[oleanderknife]

Lately whenever Hasi appears in the Nexus someone is cooking something! She can't say she really objects, and fortunately she is mentally present enough that she doesn't walk on the maps Brody has laid out on the floor. Or trip over him, although that would also be kind of funny. She instead finds herself a chair and sits, neatly, legs crossed in her typical deceptively ladylike fashion, knees folded on her knees.

"You look like you're being productive," she notes, "hello."

[campjesus]

"I didn't want to leave it to Google after what happened last time." He squints down at all the tiny little road lines and teeny-tiny street names, tracing paths with his finger. This is how people used to do it, before MapQuest and other newfangled interwebs technology. He glances up, briefly, to make sure it's her and not... an evil Hasibe doppleganger. "Hey." It's unusual that he's not drinking, but the fact that he keeps coughing mildly now and then explains that; alcohol will only exacerbate his lingering cold.

[oleanderknife]

"What happened last time?" Hasibe, not being an evil doppelganger of any kind, smiles at him amiably and leans forward to try and discern where he might be heading. She's sort of got a hunch, but Brody's life is unpredictable, to say the least.

[campjesus]

"We got lost in Nebraska. There is no worse place to be lost in than Nebraska." Well, maybe the Hellmouth. The map he is currently working on is Wisconsin--which is easy, he basically follows the freeway through the whole state, which he has highlighted and marked with "T" for toll roads--but near it there's ones for Minnesota, North Dakota, and Manitoba.

[fegkarion]

Dark out is nice. The sunlight in the nexus is strange, and as often as not the Brucolac can push how late/early he stays around, but the dark is far more comfortable.

And here is Brody on the floor.

"Hello."

[campjesus]

He glances up, even though he knows perfectly well who it is--he's not so senile he can't identify people by their voice--then glances back down, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. He looks like a tiny child focusing extremely hard on colouring inside the lines. "Hiya. What's up?"

[fegkarion]

The Brucolac peers down at the maps.

"Not you, it would seem. What a fascinating mess of scribbles you have there." Oh, look, there's a city name. All this would probably make more sense if he could see the key.

[campjesus]

Wherever he's going--not that Brucolac will know what they... are, they're mostly American cities--it's a considerable distance; on his notebook he's made a list of stops with estimated mileage/time, and they're all at least 5 hours apart. "Save me," he says, "I hate planning trips." :(