OOM - Edgar

[andinfluencepeople]

There's a lot of stuff to get done with the Jaegers, and usually that means Chuck up manually working on them.

But you can't work all the time.

Chuck's sitting in a folding lawn chair by Tacit Ronin's feet, shaded from the overhead lights by her bulk. He's reading a Hardy Boys' mystery, having carefully cleaned his hands of grease, and finishing up a bologna sandwich.

Comments

[andinfluencepeople]

"--Nah, I mean, if you wanna stick around they're just about the only people you've got to worry about. Ysalwen's a wizard general lady with a dog, and Shep's an American who fights aliens. I could get another mattress or something from Bar."

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar gives him a briefly blank look, before oh surfaces in his eyes.



"Maybe for a couple days?" he says, again a little abrupt. "Don't need a mattress, I've got a hammock."

[andinfluencepeople]

"Yeah, sure," Chuck says, thoughtful. "I bet we can find someplace to string it up. You want a hand with anything?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"I'm good," he mumbles, and his shoulders tighten as though to suppress a shiver.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck hesitates.

In the Shatterdome, he'd ask. This looks like a bad breakup - romantic, or with a Drift partner, and either can cause havoc that's really not acceptable during the apocalypse.

But it's not the Shatterdome, and privacy probably trumps his concern.

"All right," he says, somewhat doubtful. He waves a hand, and starts off walking.

[hate_gettin_older]

He sees the hesitation, and sees the moment where Chuck decides not to ask.

"Thanks," he says, low, as he starts after him. It's as much for not asking as for the offer.

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck pretends not to hear it, just keeps walking, doing his best to match his pace to Edgar's slowed one.

"So, I've got some microwaveable meals and cheese and sandwich meat, probably enough for a couple days. I get fruit and real food at the bar a couple times a week, usually take showers in the gym, but I've got water stores and wipes and stuff here."

His room is a little nerve-racking, with his Striker Eureka jacket in the closet unbidden. He mostly avoids it, though he hasn't gotten the nerve to toss his key.

"I only have an incinerating toilet rigged up, but --" he shrugs, "That's not that bad, yeah?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Sure," says Edgar, a bit at a loss. "I guess? How do those work?"

[andinfluencepeople]

"Automatically stores waste in the back, then incinerates it -- turns it to ash -- when it's full. Doesn't use water, runs off gas so sometimes it smells like fuel when it's burning, but not too bad."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Huh. Okay."

A beat.

"I've got sandwiches and stuff from the bar," he adds after a moment. "Don't have to ... share food. If you'd rather not."

[andinfluencepeople]

"... The bar's always got more," Chuck says, looking over at him, confused. "But, yeah, if you just want to eat those, I can make space in the fridge."

[hate_gettin_older]

"All right."

A beat.

"In the what?"

[andinfluencepeople]

"Refrigerator," Chuck repeats, a little clearer, with the mild irritation of someone long-used to being not really understood.

--wait. Edgar's world has like none of Earth's normal things available.

"It's a kitchen thing that look like a big-ish box, keeps its inside cold with electricity. You stick food in there so it doesn't go bad, yeah?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"..."

Edgar is SO CONFUSED.

[andinfluencepeople]

It takes a moment for Chuck to look back, then he turns so he's walking backward. At this slow of a rate, he's fine.

"Where'd I lose you?"

[hate_gettin_older]

Edgar gives himself a little shake, and breaks into a jog until he's walking parallel with Chuck again.

"Okay, I know what a kitchen is," he says, "but ... what do you mean about food going bad?"

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck turns back around, so they're on a level.

"--Um," he says, confounded by the question. "Like -- getting mold or just rotting. Doesn't it do that in your world?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Rotting ... yeah, I guess?" A bit bewildered. "But only, like, if someone did something fuckin crazy like hide it and never eat it. Like they'd find that sometimes, in somebody's bunk after they died. But sometimes even then you could still eat it. Mold, I dunno. Paper would get mold," and that last has the sound of something dimly, vaguely remembered. "If it got wet. I think. But you could like scrape it off."

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck itches at the back of his neck. "Yeah, okay. Well, meat can make you sick if you leave it out for -- I don't know, not really that long at all. Less than a day, especially if it's already cooked. Cooking kills bacteria, yeah? So they'd still be there, but you're kind of destroying them. Bread goes bad in a week, I guess. Fresh fruit's less than that, I think -- I eat all of mine out of cans, so there's not enough to go bad before I'm done, yeah?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"Okay," slowly, and with more than a hint of if-you-say-so in it.

"So what's keeping cold got to do with it?"

[andinfluencepeople]

"I dunno," Chuck admits, and laughs. "I think it's got something to do with how bacteria don't like it? Not a scientist, mate."

Pause.

"D'you know about bacteria?"

[hate_gettin_older]

The word scientist makes him scowl and look away, half-consciously.

"Heard of it, maybe. Dunno much."

[andinfluencepeople]

"I guess they're basically tiny animals, like, super small," Chuck says. "I dunno, really, but they like eating the same stuff we do, and they can make you sick. Like, there's always some amount of them, but your body can handle that. When there's more you get food poisoning -- like...," he suddenly feels awkward. "Vomiting, and so on. Or something worse, and you have to go to hospital."

[hate_gettin_older]

His jaw works a little. "That happened sometimes," he says slowly, "vomiting, but ... you tried not to, you know? Cause you din't wanna waste food."

A beat. "And we din't have much of a hospital."

[andinfluencepeople]

Chuck's quiet for a little while.

"That sucks," he settles on, though his mouth twists slightly. He knows he's underselling it, but he can't think of anything better to say.

"This place's got an infirmary. Doctors seem pretty okay, though I've only been the once."