ataraxion | video; 001

[Ataraxion, if you wanted a getaway driver from the streets of gangland, mobster-run London... well, you’ve got one now regardless.

Bob should probably be reacting with something a little more up the ‘fucking hell’ end of the scale, but he feels a bit sick and like he’s spent the last few days on a massive bender. More than that, he feels like his brain has been gathering dust, slow and sluggish where he’s expecting it to work a bit faster.

Everything seems to be just a little bit out of his reach, like thinking harder and trying to recall how he got in a weird looking pod thing with no clothes except his boxers... well, there’s kinky fucking shit and then there’s that. But even thinking as hard as he can manage despite the headache isn’t really getting him anywhere, the only thing he has managed is working out the new tattoo on his arm is a number that corresponds to a locker. And in that locker he found a jumpsuit, his lighter, chewing gum, his watch (now broken) and a car air freshener which all get shoved into the pocket of the outfit that makes him think of Formula 1 racing. At least he’s not mostly naked anymore?

But all of this culminates into the message he finally broadcasts to the network, unfiltered and unsecured. Anybody can find this if they’re looking...]

Think I might’ve fucked up somewhere back at Battersea. I... don’t exactly remember. Little help?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tube's not for me either. I drive. Least you've got half a chance of not being driven 'round the houses when all you want is to get down the road. [Hello, liberal amount of charm poured into his next smile. He wants to attach himself to your accent almost as much as he wants to attach himself to your face, Oxford. It reminds him of home.]

You from London?

As do I. [ His smile shifts, ever broad but more subdued, with a hint of curiosity; he sees that charm, Bob. ] There's nothing better than the comfort and safety of your own car, congestion charge be damned.

I am, yes. Not originally, though I can hardly imagine being anywhere else now. [ There's a moment's pause, in which Oxford's gaze seems to drift around Bob's face once again before he continues. ] I take it you must be a London man yourself.

Vauxhall. South London. I live-- lived in Battersea, though. [Despite his pretty face and self-implied half-suggestion of that being all there is to him, Bob is more intelligent than he's letting on. For every charming smile he's observing what's going on around him. and just like Oxford might have caught the extra little bit of charm in that smile, Bob has noticed the path his eyes have just taken.]

Never really made it out of London. Didn't see the point. All my mates are still there and we have a laugh. Where're you from originally?

Surrey, though I spent most of my time drifting between there and Oxfordshire for a long while. [ He laughs, shaking his head. ] When I first lived in London after university I thought I'd never get used to the place, which seems rather absurd to me now.

Yeah, yeah. Surrey's proper nice. Been a few places in Surrey. [So nice, in fact, Bob can't help but wet his lips, tongue doing quite a good job of it, too. He follows that up with a small but genuine smile, eyes fixed on the screen of his communicator. He has no idea what's going on around him now, his new friend commanding every bit of his attention.]

London? London's alright. Just need to keep up with the pace if you're throwing yourself in the deep end. [He pauses and thinks over what he's just said, smile turns to something more cheeky.]

But I haven't found the shallow end of London yet and I've lived there my whole life. [Up until now. He misses it already, the ache in his chest causing his smile to dim for a second or two.]

I'd prefer to think that Surrey was the shallow end of my life, and I've hardly any intentions of going back to that.

[ He likes to think that he knows all about deep ends, not just of London but of the world in general; he's had more than a few interesting experiences under his belt. Oxford's smile is very calm and casual, but his eyes are watchful. He sees the way that Bob's smile fades a little, and it genuinely stirs some amount of empathy in him, something softer than he would have probably experienced had he and Bob ever met in their home city.]

I dunno, mate. I got chased across a whole bloody field by a bull once. That was Surrey. My life flashed before my eyes and all. [The grin is back to being cheeky. The story is true, though the last part probably subject to slightly more drama than is strictly genuine.]

But I know what you mean. Once you've had a taste of London it's hard to go anywhere else and be fair with the comparison, yeah?