Ohm
DarkStar
PrinceAlexus
Majoraa
xVampire3go
k4tsukibakug0
iibread
"Could be something about knowing how to please her." Twombly stated with a shrug, before readjusting his mask and tied-off a safety-line to the building, "Or just the fact that I can out-run her when I don't." He then added, with a concealed smirk, before heading back out to collect some hardware to salvage in the relative safety afforded by the building they could lay claim to for the duration of the storm. The rope line came in handy, as the zero visibility, and the severe gusts of wind could quickly blind and disorient a person, the tether to safety being the only surefire salvation before the storm grew too intense to venture out on foot.
Another flick of the ear of irritation from John caused by the quip from the other male but found himself smirking as well to his light shot at Aeron.
"Well, I'm just surprised anyone would even try to out run her." He quipped as he picked up his disabled gun, managing to find the slide not to far away from the rest of it. With his pistol parts in his hand he placed them in his pocket and went to grab his rifle case. It now adorned a couple of scratches, nothing that would heavily damage it but the outside was his least concern rather what the damage was to its contents. He would worry about that later.
Working on the ground floor, Twombly located an old fallout-shelter, something from some old leader's days of putting an emergency-shelter in nearly every large public-access building in the country. These sorts of places were often well-looted, as they'd been known and on public record ever since the troubles began. However, what they lacked in supplies, they made up for in accommodations. Although long without power, the manual air purification system was still functional, and a few good minutes of cranking flushed all the bad air out with a dank, yet breathable air... the smell hinted at the filter starting to mildew, and should probably be replaced, but it allowed everyone to take off their masks and filters for awhile and enjoy a bite to eat without getting creative in finding ways to shove a morsel of food through a gas-mask.
John had followed the wolf and jackal to what seemed to be like an old bunker of sorts. Despite its run down nature that matched that of the surroundings its structure looked fairly intact. He considered traveling back to the Dome on foot but the sandstorm had other plans as it had intensified. The wolf went with his better judgement and followed them inside. It would seem that he would have to deal with them a bit longer, though, he did at least have Aeron to keep him company, sort of. Once the wolf had gotten what John guessed to be an air filtration system he watched to see if the other wolf would take off his mask. John didn't like the idea of removing his mask out in the wasteland in any sense of it, even if there was a chance for this thing to hold. Should it fail, the toxic wasteland air would kill them in minutes and for that reason he let the maned wolf be the proverbeal guinea pig.
Without much warning, Aeron reached up from behind John and yanked his mask off, haven taken the one she was wearing off shortly after the air had been cycled. "Stop being a scared little pup," she teased before removing the cloak she had been wearing and setting on the floor as a sort of blanket so she wouldn't have to dirty herself, "Tommy-boy and I used to hit up this old bunkers all the time when I scavenged a bit more, all of them have proven safe, and this one we've used more than once." Kicking back, she stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes a bit as she had gone barefoot, like normal.
John's eys shot wide open as he held his breath, turning to Aeron with a glare, more or less at the pup comment but it didn't take long for him to turn it into a more playful glare. He really couldn't get mad at her, he knew her for some time before she went off on her own. If anything he was just glad to see her again. He started to hear the other one pipe up, turning his goldish yellow eyes on him.
"Besides, this place works on the same principle as the climate inside the dome..." Twombly started, chastising the wolf a bit further with such flawlessly obvious observational skills, pausing only because Aeron's legs had caught his eye mid-disassembly of probably the 10th rifle he'd brought in "Just not to the scale of its inhabitants becoming self-sufficient." He added, setting his work down long enough to walk over to the Mafioso and nuzzle her cheek in the confined space.
"Well that's pretty neat, I guess you been in the wastelands longer than in the city I suppose." He sighed. He really didn't like coming out to the wastelands. If he wasn't so keen on keeping up with his rules he would have added "No jobs in the wasteland" but money is money.
Behind the dealer laid a pile of 'good' parts, and a pile of 'bad' parts all from presumably the same model of firearm, or at least ones common enough to have interchangeable components. He tossed the upper part of 'Cujo' to John, figuring he knew how to re-assemble his own gun, even though it was a bit dark. "So... 'John'. How long have you known Aeron and why aren't you dead yet?" He asked, in a playfully teasing manner.
Johnathan Wolf planted himself against a wall opposite of the two. One leg stretched out while the other was bent to allow him a make shift resting place for his arm. His hand was limp but gestured to Aeron. A smirk starting to form on his face as he looked towards Aeron's body. He replied back to the other one however his eyes didn't leave Aeron's body...
"Don't know. She's a glass cannon. Just need to know how far to let the fuze go before it blows up in your face i suppose. Kinda hoping that she would've stayed with me. Had alot fun with her." He sighed and shook his head.
"But that's in the past now. Anyway. You know my name thanks to her but I don't know yours. Then again to be fair I haven't properly. Name is John, and you are?" He now cocked an eyebrow at the wolf, a subtle squint of the eyes.
"Twombly." The spindly canid grunted as he racked the charging-handle of a freshly assembled FAMAS, giving it a final function-check before tossing the ammo-less rifle over to John and starting work on an MAT-49. "I fix things. And don't worry about your secrets being spilled, that little bit of mystery helps sell merchandise, first to your enemies trying to protect themselves from a hit, then to those who wish to hit them." He paused, almost sure that the reason why helping keep his clients identities a secret were a thing... "Imagine I told some paranoid rich target the residencies of every hitman in New Earlton. He started, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and casting a deadly serious stare at John, They'd contract out all the best hitmen to battle-royal each other, then go after their friends and families, everyone they ever cared about... and that would be the end to it, no more sales. But keep the names and numbers of clients a secret, and they'll be dancing in an eternal arms-race with their assassins."
Another flick of the ear of irritation from John caused by the quip from the other male but found himself smirking as well to his light shot at Aeron.
"Well, I'm just surprised anyone would even try to out run her." He quipped as he picked up his disabled gun, managing to find the slide not to far away from the rest of it. With his pistol parts in his hand he placed them in his pocket and went to grab his rifle case. It now adorned a couple of scratches, nothing that would heavily damage it but the outside was his least concern rather what the damage was to its contents. He would worry about that later.
Working on the ground floor, Twombly located an old fallout-shelter, something from some old leader's days of putting an emergency-shelter in nearly every large public-access building in the country. These sorts of places were often well-looted, as they'd been known and on public record ever since the troubles began. However, what they lacked in supplies, they made up for in accommodations. Although long without power, the manual air purification system was still functional, and a few good minutes of cranking flushed all the bad air out with a dank, yet breathable air... the smell hinted at the filter starting to mildew, and should probably be replaced, but it allowed everyone to take off their masks and filters for awhile and enjoy a bite to eat without getting creative in finding ways to shove a morsel of food through a gas-mask.
John had followed the wolf and jackal to what seemed to be like an old bunker of sorts. Despite its run down nature that matched that of the surroundings its structure looked fairly intact. He considered traveling back to the Dome on foot but the sandstorm had other plans as it had intensified. The wolf went with his better judgement and followed them inside. It would seem that he would have to deal with them a bit longer, though, he did at least have Aeron to keep him company, sort of. Once the wolf had gotten what John guessed to be an air filtration system he watched to see if the other wolf would take off his mask. John didn't like the idea of removing his mask out in the wasteland in any sense of it, even if there was a chance for this thing to hold. Should it fail, the toxic wasteland air would kill them in minutes and for that reason he let the maned wolf be the proverbeal guinea pig.
Without much warning, Aeron reached up from behind John and yanked his mask off, haven taken the one she was wearing off shortly after the air had been cycled. "Stop being a scared little pup," she teased before removing the cloak she had been wearing and setting on the floor as a sort of blanket so she wouldn't have to dirty herself, "Tommy-boy and I used to hit up this old bunkers all the time when I scavenged a bit more, all of them have proven safe, and this one we've used more than once." Kicking back, she stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes a bit as she had gone barefoot, like normal.
John's eys shot wide open as he held his breath, turning to Aeron with a glare, more or less at the pup comment but it didn't take long for him to turn it into a more playful glare. He really couldn't get mad at her, he knew her for some time before she went off on her own. If anything he was just glad to see her again. He started to hear the other one pipe up, turning his goldish yellow eyes on him.
"Besides, this place works on the same principle as the climate inside the dome..." Twombly started, chastising the wolf a bit further with such flawlessly obvious observational skills, pausing only because Aeron's legs had caught his eye mid-disassembly of probably the 10th rifle he'd brought in "Just not to the scale of its inhabitants becoming self-sufficient." He added, setting his work down long enough to walk over to the Mafioso and nuzzle her cheek in the confined space.
"Well that's pretty neat, I guess you been in the wastelands longer than in the city I suppose." He sighed. He really didn't like coming out to the wastelands. If he wasn't so keen on keeping up with his rules he would have added "No jobs in the wasteland" but money is money.
Behind the dealer laid a pile of 'good' parts, and a pile of 'bad' parts all from presumably the same model of firearm, or at least ones common enough to have interchangeable components. He tossed the upper part of 'Cujo' to John, figuring he knew how to re-assemble his own gun, even though it was a bit dark. "So... 'John'. How long have you known Aeron and why aren't you dead yet?" He asked, in a playfully teasing manner.
Johnathan Wolf planted himself against a wall opposite of the two. One leg stretched out while the other was bent to allow him a make shift resting place for his arm. His hand was limp but gestured to Aeron. A smirk starting to form on his face as he looked towards Aeron's body. He replied back to the other one however his eyes didn't leave Aeron's body...
"Don't know. She's a glass cannon. Just need to know how far to let the fuze go before it blows up in your face i suppose. Kinda hoping that she would've stayed with me. Had alot fun with her." He sighed and shook his head.
"But that's in the past now. Anyway. You know my name thanks to her but I don't know yours. Then again to be fair I haven't properly. Name is John, and you are?" He now cocked an eyebrow at the wolf, a subtle squint of the eyes.
"Twombly." The spindly canid grunted as he racked the charging-handle of a freshly assembled FAMAS, giving it a final function-check before tossing the ammo-less rifle over to John and starting work on an MAT-49. "I fix things. And don't worry about your secrets being spilled, that little bit of mystery helps sell merchandise, first to your enemies trying to protect themselves from a hit, then to those who wish to hit them." He paused, almost sure that the reason why helping keep his clients identities a secret were a thing... "Imagine I told some paranoid rich target the residencies of every hitman in New Earlton. He started, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and casting a deadly serious stare at John, They'd contract out all the best hitmen to battle-royal each other, then go after their friends and families, everyone they ever cared about... and that would be the end to it, no more sales. But keep the names and numbers of clients a secret, and they'll be dancing in an eternal arms-race with their assassins."