itstopped | Re-Entry 19: Video/Spam

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Re-Entry 19: Video/Spam

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[The communicator switches on to an extreme close-up of a brown eye, narrowed in confusion. After a second, it pulls back to show Felix's face, then even farther back as he holds it out at arm's length. He appears to be wearing... chainmail? It must be, because he's got a sword in the other hand.

He smiles suddenly.]

My, but this is a marvelous work of magic! What do you call this device?

[Spam for Dean]

[Something propelled him to cabin 4-18, but now that he's here, he can't imagine what. A quest? Some item? He's rummaging through the oddly cold box by the bed when he hears the door open. He turns, raising his sword.]

Who goes there?

[Spam for the CES]

[After some further cursory exploration, Sir Felix the Very Affected has decided to set up camp -- literally -- in the CES. He didn't find much of interest in the room, but he did find ale and a great deal of what looks like useless paper to use for tinder and kindling. He sits comfortably by his crackling fire, warming his hands.]

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[Dean had been joking when he put the cowboy hat on, as impressed as someone who routinely handles guns can be at the not-as-shitty-as-one-might-have-expected fake antique revolver with it could be. He'd grown up all over the United States so it's not like he has any kind of distinct accent, but his (deep, deep, deeply) hidden obsession with Clint Eastwood movies has left him with a pretty good handle on the generic kind of drawl the frontier folk always get stuck with.

Of course, the joke's on him, really.

He's not really sure how much value the silverware he found will have, but they're finer work than anything he's seen, and the metal is unfamiliar to him, shining and resilient. He took two fistfuls of forks this time - he'll go back for more later, once he's had time to study them better in his hideout, to know if they'll be salable in the next stop.

There's someone in his hideout, though, and Dean freezes halfway through the door, clicking the safety off his antique Colt, forks jingling in the pockets of his duster with the incautious movement.]

What the hell?

Edited 2013-10-12 23:23 (UTC)

[The sword, in fact, is fake and dulled at the edges, but it looks real enough when being pointed at one's face. Felix stays in a crouch, eyes narrowed along the blade, studying the man and his strange clothing.]

...friend or foe?

[It certainly does look impressive, but because Dean is unaware that his six-shooter is shooting caps right now, he's not really concerned.

He still smiles broadly and holds up his free hand in the universal sign for surrender, edging into the room.]

I like to err on the friendly side, myself. I... what the hell.

[This isn't what his hideout looks like. He doesn't know what any of this crap is.]

[The language and the accent sound strange to his ears, but the symbol is indeed universal. He stands slowly, lowering the blunted point of his sword enough that it's no longer quite so near to Dean's throat.]

What business have you here?

I could ask the same of you, friend. Not that I reckon either of us is likely to give a straight answer.

[He's still smiling when he says it, broad and bright, and doesn't try to lower his hand or raise his gun although neither does he take his eyes off the sword for more than a few seconds at a time to look at the strange room.]

Excuse me? You're insulting my honor, friend. I have nothing to hide from you. This place is my...

...my...

[He pauses and glances around, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.]

Yeah, it looks a lot like my my too.

[Now that the other man is distracted, Dean squints first one direction, then another, before becoming distracted by the only thing he does recognize in the room: the desk, and the array of items scattered across it.]

Go on then. Where are we, your honor?

Well? What is it to you, then?

[Wellp, time to put up or shut up.

Dean, even now, never ever shuts up.]

I live here.

[Sir Felix frowns, looking around again. Something about that seems... off, but then again, the decor is as unusual to him as the cowboy's outfit. Then he remembers something else, though, and looks down at his other hand with a frown.]

A-ha -- but I had the key.