ɴᴜx (
whatalovelyday) wrote in
undergrounds2015-06-08 08:22 pm
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Entry tags:
RESTING, WANDERING, BUT ALWAYS LOOKING
CLOSED TO HILLINGDON HOUSE
[Lying outside by the waters, he rests his hands over his bare chest – fingers lightly scratching at the tattoo of an engine that he has etched into his skin. He had gone out earlier in search of answers, of whispers, of where the other War Boys are, but came up with nothing. Nux isn't sure how he fits in with the other hunters; they were not raised on the same beliefs as he was, but they were still human. They still wanted to make a world safe for humans and that is more than enough for nonbelievers.
It isn't that he's lounging. Though, he does like to give the impression that is what he is doing. It is honestly that he has quite winded. Nux does what he can to build his strength up enough to move about, but sometimes, it does get the better of him. At least, the war paint that he still coats his skin in covers up how pale that he is actually getting.]
All I need to do is find the others, or find the one who did it. That's all.
[An easy task, he tells himself. He will be given great treasures in the afterlife once he has completed either goal. He takes a breath in and slowly turns his head to look toward the house. Nothing like his kind. It'll be all right. He'll protect them. Keep 'em safe any hunter would.
Already, he thinks that he can hear the war drums.]
OPEN: WANDERING THE STREETS
[His pants make an almost jiggling noise as he walks. It'd probably be better if it was bells, but it is mostly due to spare chains and bullets that he keeps in his pockets. Nux has become aware in the two years that he has lived out in the world that people do not like how he looks. His saved head and painted white skin tends to make them back away from him. But that's the point, isn't it? Humans are safe and hunters hunt. They're supposed to be frightening like guard dogs.
Or so he thinks.
At the moment, it isn't as serious as that. He's looking for his brothers as always, but he can't do that on an empty stomach. Nux isn't sure how long he has been wandering the alleys, and streets, but night has already fallen. He runs his hands along the glass of where there is some baked goods. But the lights are off given the indication that it's closed.]
Maybe should pop over to some store? How long do they stay open, anyway? [He is asking no one but is already starting to try to walk to find the fabled open shop in the middle of the night.]
[Lying outside by the waters, he rests his hands over his bare chest – fingers lightly scratching at the tattoo of an engine that he has etched into his skin. He had gone out earlier in search of answers, of whispers, of where the other War Boys are, but came up with nothing. Nux isn't sure how he fits in with the other hunters; they were not raised on the same beliefs as he was, but they were still human. They still wanted to make a world safe for humans and that is more than enough for nonbelievers.
It isn't that he's lounging. Though, he does like to give the impression that is what he is doing. It is honestly that he has quite winded. Nux does what he can to build his strength up enough to move about, but sometimes, it does get the better of him. At least, the war paint that he still coats his skin in covers up how pale that he is actually getting.]
All I need to do is find the others, or find the one who did it. That's all.
[An easy task, he tells himself. He will be given great treasures in the afterlife once he has completed either goal. He takes a breath in and slowly turns his head to look toward the house. Nothing like his kind. It'll be all right. He'll protect them. Keep 'em safe any hunter would.
Already, he thinks that he can hear the war drums.]
OPEN: WANDERING THE STREETS
[His pants make an almost jiggling noise as he walks. It'd probably be better if it was bells, but it is mostly due to spare chains and bullets that he keeps in his pockets. Nux has become aware in the two years that he has lived out in the world that people do not like how he looks. His saved head and painted white skin tends to make them back away from him. But that's the point, isn't it? Humans are safe and hunters hunt. They're supposed to be frightening like guard dogs.
Or so he thinks.
At the moment, it isn't as serious as that. He's looking for his brothers as always, but he can't do that on an empty stomach. Nux isn't sure how long he has been wandering the alleys, and streets, but night has already fallen. He runs his hands along the glass of where there is some baked goods. But the lights are off given the indication that it's closed.]
Maybe should pop over to some store? How long do they stay open, anyway? [He is asking no one but is already starting to try to walk to find the fabled open shop in the middle of the night.]
no subject
So Nux, where's that intel I very graciously and patiently asked you to give me about fifteen hours ago?
[He hasn't actually done that. He's only testing out Nux's reaction to such a question, for the future, when he decides to start using him for actual work.]
no subject
But he still tries to carry and walk with the fence. Occasionally, it drops down low to where it scrapes against the top of his boots, but so long as it doesn't drag on the cement; he's fine.]
I don't remember bein' asked. I'm sorry. I can go look for it after I put the fence where you need it.
no subject
[Trevor steps closer, glaring at him.]
Do you know how many times I jerk off a day? Once an hour, on average. So, with that in mind, do you understand how many toilets and dumpsters and random passer-bys I had to blow my load in or on while I waited for this intel? Fifteen too many.
This is your fault. YOU HAVE FAILED TO DELIVER THE REQUIRED INFORMATION IN A TIMELY MANNER.
[He's not actually angry (for the most part; he's always at least a little angry) but damn if he doesn't make it convincing.]
So what the fuck is your excuse, Nux?
no subject
[He takes a step back with the fence in hands. It is a little difficult to take those steps back with the heavy item, but he tries all the same. Best show that he's not trying to cause problems by appearin' like he's trying to start a fight.]
Don't got one. I messed up. Lost the intel. Didn't get it. So you should be mad. Ain't right to ask anyone to wait, and I did. Twice. [Because if it is that important; how would he feel if someone sit on something about his family, his clan? Then not have anything? Not good, yeah?]
Have the right to get one in. [He decides to put the fence down as best he can to stand before Trevor. Bracing himself to be hit.]
no subject
Trevor raises a hand and
claps it on Nux's shoulder. Gives him a little pat, then a small smirk.]
Well shit on me and call me Sadie, you passed with flying colors. That was a test!
[Trevor reaches into his pocket, takes out a wad of promising-looking dollars. It looks like a lot, but... in reality it's like ten ones. He shoves them at Nux and turns around, keeps walking.]
There's your raise. Now, pick your feet up and move your ass, the trailer ain't too far ahead.
no subject
Rubbing his nose, he didn't even think that he would get tests anymore. It's kind of amazing to be paid for just doing what is right to one's boss. But he should stop standing around -- the money is stuffed into his pocket without actually looking to count out what it is, as that would be more than a bit rude to Trevor.
Picking up the fence, he is back to following after him.]
Seems wrong that you're livin' in a trailer, boss. Shouldn't you live somewhere like a mansion or somethin'. [Nux looks towards Hillingdon and wonders...]
no subject
[He approaches and rips the fence away from Nux.] Give me that!
[Trevor walks over to part of the ramshackle, moss-covered wooden fence that makes a semicircle around the crappy trailer, sagging and looking chopped in certain places. He sets the new piece of fence against one gap in the existing one. Just leans it against it, then backs up as if to admire his work.]
... Mmmm... yeah. I guess.
[He turns back around, gives Nux a blank look.]
All right you can go. [-- ???]
no subject
[He says sheepishly as he pulls his hands back as soon as the fence is taken out of his hands.]
Go? You're all done with me? Ya don't need me to do anything else for you? [Because he didn't mean to say anything negative -- too negative -- about the house. The least he could do to make it up to Trevor is try to do something for him. Rubbing his face, he pushes some color back into it with a violent slap added.] Ready to go on the word!