28th Inning

[freakinblur]

[Finland isn't the only one gimping around town. Scout got stabbed in the leg several times by the angry nation. He went to Fran to get it stitched it up, but thought maybe just offing himself would be better than 2-4 weeks recovery time. The good doctor disagreed, and while fixing up the Scout's leg made sure he would not harm himself or others during his recovery.

Lovely.

Not only that, he hasn't been able to sleep either (chemically-induced nap nonwithstanding). It's not something he gets much of anyway, usually, but since he's hurt he figured he might as well catch up. But he just lays there, wide awake. What's up with that?

So now, Scout can be found in a few places looking a bit miserable:

- Sitting on his lawn, playing catch alone. Mostly using the house and fence to bounce the baseballs off of. Occasionally one goes wild towards his own house, or neighbor's, or to a passerby causing damage. He seems unconcerned.

- Stopping by the homes of his BLU teammates: Sniper, Spy, Medic and even Engie. Every last one of them is droned. This does not help his mood.

- Downtown in the attempt to get Vince a present for his birthday. He's got crutches for any extended time walking in the hopes to not pop any stitches, but Scout's never been known for his patience. He also has no idea what to buy a guy for his birthday, but this is Vince so it's almost kinda like buying something for a chick. At any rate, he feels weird buying him clothing or something, and since he doesn't like sports, Scout looks a bit lost.

- at RED Sniper's gun range, taking out targets with his pistol at an alarming rate. Gotta vent somehow!

Feel free to bug him at these places, or while he's on the move.]

Comments

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[He... just... damnit he hates when people that are not him are right. He flops down on the nearest bench.]

Awright, well, whattaya buy fer a guy fer his birthday? I ain't buyin' him clothes. I refuse.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

A reasonable stance. Most Hogswatch clothing end up in the back of the closet for years gathering mold, anyway.

I'd say it depends on what your friend likes.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

...Hogswatch?

I dunno. He likes... clothes, weird ones. Music. His hair.

Maybe I will just by him some booze.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Last resort, that one. It's almost as impersonal as food.

I assume you're against hair styling products on principle of being a man, as well. That leaves the music, then. It shouldn't be too difficult to find something suitable in that department.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

Yeah, but everyone likes booze, right?

I think Vince's probably got enough hair stuff as it is, knowin' him, anyway. Hmm, this town even got a record shop?

Hey, I never got yer name, lady. I'm Scout. [Offers hand]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Susan Sto Helit.

[She takes it, making no comment on the name that is, in her mind, more suitable for a pet.]

I haven't seen one, actually. Perhaps you're right about the liquor.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

That's the problem! Ain't nothin' fun in this town. Even the booze is pretty crappy.

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

That just means you'll have to make your own fun. A clever young man like you can probably manage that.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[Smirk] Oh yeah, I do try. Trust me, it ain't a party if I don't show up!

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Just don't break anything. Especially not any more body parts. Shall I see about finding some alcohol for you, then?

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

Hey, I didn't break nothin'. Just some stitches. Gotta use these things if I don't wanna pop 'em.

[He grabs his crutches and stands back up.] Well, I don't mind some help from a lovely lady. Sure!

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

. . . Do refrain from calling me that. I'll burst an intestine laughing, and then I'll be worse off than you.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[Raised eyebrow] Yeah, ya look like her about ta pitch a real fit. [smirk]

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Hmph. I'll have you know I never 'pitch fits', as you so crudely put it. I simply sneer until I get my way.

Now. Liquor store.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

[Snickers and shakes his head. He likes you already, Susan.] That so? I'm gettin' that idea, yeah.

Lead tha way!

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

[Susan is actually in a remarkably good mood to be bantering like this without getting annoyed. The answer may lie in the coupon she is holding balled up in her hand, which appears to be for the grocery store. It also depicts the most beautiful thing Susan has ever seen in her life.

Yes, the woman whose only weakness is chocolate has discovered the miracle of double chocolate chocolaty fudgey death by whatever ice cream.]

You do know that the longer you stay still, the sooner you'll recover? But I suppose it's your choice. It's right around the corner, as I recall.

[freakinblur.livejournal.com]

Look, the fact that I'm usin' these crutches is enough! It sucks pretty hard.

So, he likes girly drinks I bet. Maybe 'll get a bottle 'a sour mix to go with some whiskey?

[deaths-heritor.livejournal.com]

Don't ask me to pick a present for your friend. I hardly know you, and I know him less.