contractuallybinding | (no subject)

The confusion on his face seems... honest enough, actually. Either he's unaware or doesn't find it remarkable at all.

"You'll have to be a bit more clear."

His expression is transparently bewildered, wary. Searching. Obviously it was remarkable, so maybe this man really hadn't noticed?

"I... thought I saw someone watching us." The scarred man's a very poor liar; it stumbles out with the hesitancy of someone picking their words very carefully.

An extremely poor liar. But, well, the wall did say he could trust those here, why give a little ... faith. See how this spooled out.

"Well, I suppose anything is possible. We hardly know anything at all."

He makes a disgusted face. "Quite. No point in stating the obvious."

His eyes slide off the man restlessly, looking for a next target. He spots the open door of the other man's room and and brushes past to him to take a look.

And (Elias) takes the opportunity to seek out (Martin's) room.

(Elias') room is... immaculate. The bed has been made without any signs he'd woken up in it. The extra uniforms are folded, the small set of rations arranged neatly, all square to the corners. There's a spyglass like... well... like the one (Jon) didn't examine in his own room, laying exactly in the center of the pillow on the bed.

Otherwise, it's a perfect match to (Jon's) room.

Edited 2020-04-03 03:12 (UTC)

He snatches for the telescope, giving it a cursory examination for sharp edge before he looks into it.

When (Jon) looks into the telescope, for a moment, he not only can see (Elias) in a suit, tie and immaculately composed, but he can hear the other man, as if he was in the same room.

There's no hesitation, just those intense, electric green eyes staring unblinkingly towards whatever is recording this message. "Oh, just do what feels ...... right. You'll Know what to do." He smiles, sharp and gleeful. "I do this willingly."

How irritatingly smug. He puts the telescope aside and decides to check under the bed.

There's a disappointing lack of bodies, weapons or other incriminating evidence. Or honestly, anything at all. If the other man had existed before the moment (Jon) woke up... it's hard to tell. There's not even dust down there.

There goes all the patience he has for investigation.

... He yanks the bedclothes wrinkled before he leaves.

Petty, petty. Hardly becoming of you.

When the feral Blank leaves, he practically runs into Bastard and Wisp out there, as Bastard starts verbally trapping Wisp into going out.

"Ah, our third. What should we call this one. Ideas?"

Wisp continues to be painfully unhappy with this entire scenario, top to bottom. But as soon as Bastard even hints at the thought of naming this other man, he flares with instinctive protectiveness.

"You - you're not naming him," he says.

He scowls. "And what are you two called?"

"I'm not?" Bastard smirks. Then... no. No he's going to make Wisp introduce himself. "Careful, he named me Bastard. I suppose it will be a black mark upon me from the very onset."

He doesn't seem that put out.

Predictably, Wisp reddens terribly at that. Social pressure is as pure a compulsion as anything else for him, after all. "Because you named me something terrible," he spits back. "You - you named me Wisp."

It probably doesn't seem terrible. In fact, it might just feel entirely and perfectly fitting, like Bastard couldn't possibly have named him anything else. It's all this man is now.

Yeah, he looks between the two of them and snorts. "Well, accurate so far."

"Now, now, no need for name calling." Bastard says, striking up an absolutely reasonable tone. He glances at Wisp, then slides a glance back at this unknown, unshaped person. There's something to that, isn't it? A blank slate waiting to be written on. "Unless there is. But if you can't think of anything, I'm here for you. Happy to pick up the slack."

Wisp stiffens with horror. It's one thing to be named himself, but letting Bastard do this to someone else is unconscionable. He sputters a moment, knowing he's being manipulated even now, but unable to do a damn thing about it.

"No, I - I've got it. I'm great at naming." He says this while looking at the other man, and ... drawing a ferocious blank. He doesn't look like much? Or - well, okay, he looks like quite a bit, but not like anything nice that Wisp would name him. Scar would be too cruel on multiple levels. Instead, Wisp's eyes track the trail of white spots dimly visible on the other man's skin. "What - what about Fawn?" he says, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Like - like the baby deer?" It's hard to tell if me's more offended or baffled: He hasn't seen his own face to be able to ken to the association.

"On second thought, it's good enough you've both got one. I believe I can do without."

Edited 2020-04-05 03:43 (UTC)

Perfect.

"Fawn it is."

Wisp flinches a little at the rejection, but. It's a name that Bastard didn't give him, and that little confirmation doesn't seem to have had the same effect. Small mercies. He'll take it. "It's - it's of the marks," he adds, feeling foolish. "Can't you see them?"

Fawn spares an extra bit of glare for Bastard before turning with exasperation to Wisp. "See what? What marks are you talking about?"

... They're all down his arms, evidently he just hasn't looked down.

Oh good lord. Wisp is fed up just enough to reach out and poke one of Fawn's arms (gently) right on one of those spots. "The extremely obvious ones right there? All over you?"

Fawn brings his arm up to see. "-O, oh." And after turning it for a full view, he notices his hand, the whole palm scared with more wrapping around the back. "-Oh. A-all over you, said...?"

Fawn touches his face - with the burned hand; he has to switch to other hand to actually feel the spots on his face. He looks quite disturbed. "What on Earth..."

"Well, we don't know about all. But it does seem.. comprehensive." That Bastard says. His tone isn't particularly suggestive, merely fond of pointing out technicalities. It is good to be CORRECT, after all.

"It may be that you're suited to losing. Or surviving. We'll find out."