ataraxion | ☞001; video

[Well, hell. Is this thing on? It better be, or he's going to look awful funny talking to himself for next minute or two.

Needless to say, Booker is still getting used to his strange, newfangled communication device. The video is a little shaky at first, but it evens out after a moment or two of fumbling. And it's then you can see the man's face -- he looks tired, especially around the eyes, but he seems to be toughing it out. Frustration is etched into his frown, but his tone is relatively even and straight to the point.]

Name's Booker DeWitt, and I'm not gonna waste anyone's time. Got a few questions, in order of importance. I'd be much obliged to anyone willing to answer what they can.

[With that preface out of the way, he presses on:]

Anyone seen a girl named Elizabeth? [Here you can hear a little concern out of him, but he doesn't pause long enough to let it settle.] Blue and white dress, short brown hair. Might be stickin' her nose in other people's business. If you have, let me know.

Secondly -- I don't know how things work around here, if anyone gives a damn about money or trade -- but where does someone find ammunition in a place like this?

[This time there is a notable pause. Thirdly:] Or something to drink?

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[Casually:] Of what sort?

[Okay. A response. He supposes he's doing this right so far.]

Of the strong sort.

["Ryuuzaki"'s voice is low and smooth, and it belongs to a young man, probably English.]

Your friend might not be wearing the same dress. I haven't seen her.

As far as something to drink goes, kitchens aren't hard to find, but... something tells me you're looking for a bar.

[That something is Booker's appearance, but as far as telling L anything... it's really more of a suggestion than a statement of fact.]

I was referring to the ammunition, actually.

[He scoffs a little.] Right. [Works for him, that question ranked higher in order of importance anyway.]

Magazines for an M1 Carbine, and Mauser ammunition -- 7.63mm.

[A little... outdated, probably, in comparison to his surroundings.]

[He frowns, because it's not exactly what he wanted to hear -- but then again, he's not going to get his hopes up. Maybe his self-sacrifice meant a disconnect from all aspects of his life before, if it was going to spare him from death -- and in that case, he shouldn't expect to see Elizabeth again.

He tries to shove that thought out of his head for now.] Thanks anyway.

[As for the bar comment:] Is it that obvious?

She might turn up.

[He says that more as if "it can't be helped" than as a reassurance. DeWitt might wish she hadn't.]

No, not exactly. But you're a man of a certain age--if you had wanted water, you would have asked for water, if you had wanted coffee, you would have asked for coffee. It didn't seem likely that you meant "a drink" in the general sense.

Anything in particular? I'm told that the liquor here can be... different. Different from what someone might expect.

[Then again, DeWitt seems vaguely similar to Joe in some ways. Maybe it's exactly what he would expect. L can't say either way; drinking is rare for him, but no longer completely out of the question.]

There's an armory of weapons, but they can be a bit...strict about what they allow out. So it's best to contact someone with a private supply.

[And would this innocent-faced kiddo happen to know of any such someone? Perish the thought.]

Something tells me she would've found me by now, instead of the other way around. I'm not gonna hold my breath. [Her power, after being unbridled, had become immense; time and space were her playthings, and he somehow thinks if she wanted to see him, she would have done so. Then again, maybe "his" timeline did reset. Maybe he's being presumptuous assuming she even exists.

God, it makes his head hurt thinking about it.]

..."Different" can mean a lot of things. Does it taste "different", or is it "different" enough to make me keel over and wish I'd never been born?

[A kid. Actually wouldn't be the first he's seen on this ship, but it's still a bit jarring when he's talking about armories and where to find bullets for his guns.

But Booker's adaptable. There's only a slight pause before he responds.]

Know anyone, or do I have to go searching on my own?

Probably only the first kind of different, depending on where and when you come from. I'm told most of it is equivalent, but maybe more "gin-like" than "gin"--just as an example. I don't know what kind of juniper they can grow in the areas where it was made.

It's the same in the Oxygen Gardens. Some of the crops grown there are similar to what I'm used to, but the exact varieties can be unfamiliar.

[It's all relative, isn't it? Someone from thirty years in his own future might be used to a completely different kind of banana than he is. He decides to hold off on asking more about Elizabeth for now.]

Well. You may be out of luck, unless security is feeling particularly generous. I only carry clips for handguns.

[And a shotgun, but he's keeping what he has of that.]

[He'll pause, then steeple his fingers, looking thoughtful.]

You mentioned trade.

In that case, then I'm not picky. Not right now. So if there is a bar to be found, I wouldn't mind knowing about it. [He'd settle for the most alien-tasting liquor ever right now. As long as it didn't kill him, or have any adverse effects as compared to what normal alcohol might do, then it's fair game.

Oxygen Gardens. He makes a mental note of the name.] Crops too? Grown by the people here?

That figures. A lot of good two guns will do me if they don't got enough bullets to last a single firefight.

[Not that he blames it on the stranger talking to him. He's appreciative for the answer, though his own is a bit dismissive.]

If it's any consolation, we don't see many firefights here.

That I did. I also don't got a lot, all things considered. [Being new here, and all. He was graced with only a few items in his locker.] What do you got in mind?

But you're not about to tell me that I've stumbled upon a peaceful utopia, are you?

I wouldn't dream of it. Most of the threats here tend to be purely psychological in nature, barring the odd pirate invasion or beasts in the belly of the ship.

I need parts. Mechanical parts, any kind will do.

[...well ain't that just what he wanted to hear. Psychological threats? Just the sound of that makes him look a little more weary, more so than... "pirates" or "beasts".]

...'Course. Can't nothing be easy.

So this place messes with your head?

[Mechanical parts. He might be able to offer something if that's the case.]

...I can think of something. Arrived with me in my locker -- I used it to travel the city I came from before I arrived here, but I reckon it's mostly useless moving parts now. Though you could tear someone up with it somethin' awful.

[He knows via first-hand experience.]

Edited 2013-11-15 02:51 (UTC)

[Bit of a wry laugh goes here.] I don't suppose I could make a grappling hook from it, could I?

[Welp. Actually.] Find yourself a sturdy enough rope and I don't see why not. It's a skyhook. It's got plenty of 'hooks', so it should do just fine, assuming you know how to take it apart and put it all together well enough. Hell, find yourself a rail and you might not need to take it apart at all. [Though he hasn't really seen any during his short time here.]

Why're you looking to make a grappling hook, anyway?

[A pause.

Then he breaks into a smile, looking exceptionally satisfied and noticeably not answering the question.] That sounds like an excellent deal, Mr. DeWitt.

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