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Mar. 31st, 2025 10:21 am
a devious goose
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lost_and_foundry[Barcus has stowed away on a number of transports in the last few months--trucks, cars, even a train--but the boat that brings him to the Rig is the first one he's been invited onto. It helps, he assumes, that he looks harmless. When he wears a hood and ducks his head enough, people readily take him for an injured child. The number of times he could have taken advantage of that and robbed them blind...
But fortunately for everyone, that's not the kind of person he is. He's only aggressive when backed into a corner, and barely then.
There seem to be two kinds of groups where survivors are concerned: we're all in this together whether we like it or not versus there are more of us than there are of you, join or die. He knows which he prefers, and at this point he also knows not to get too emotionally involved until he's sure what sort he's dealing with. It's nice that he is welcomed. He's willing to contribute. He won't be turning his back on anything.
Including in the canteen, which is his first stop, because it's clear they have food to spare here, and fresh greens are hard to come by. He'll take whatever he's offered politely, without question, and thank the cook, before retreating to sit with his back to the wall, watching the entrances to the room with wary silver eyes, even as he eats.
From a distance, he still looks like he might be a child, swimming in a grey hoodie that's too big for him, black cargo pants and an assortment of tool belts that would drag him straight to the bottom if he fell into the ocean. God knows what he's carrying in those pockets, but he's carrying a lot of it.]
But fortunately for everyone, that's not the kind of person he is. He's only aggressive when backed into a corner, and barely then.
There seem to be two kinds of groups where survivors are concerned: we're all in this together whether we like it or not versus there are more of us than there are of you, join or die. He knows which he prefers, and at this point he also knows not to get too emotionally involved until he's sure what sort he's dealing with. It's nice that he is welcomed. He's willing to contribute. He won't be turning his back on anything.
Including in the canteen, which is his first stop, because it's clear they have food to spare here, and fresh greens are hard to come by. He'll take whatever he's offered politely, without question, and thank the cook, before retreating to sit with his back to the wall, watching the entrances to the room with wary silver eyes, even as he eats.
From a distance, he still looks like he might be a child, swimming in a grey hoodie that's too big for him, black cargo pants and an assortment of tool belts that would drag him straight to the bottom if he fell into the ocean. God knows what he's carrying in those pockets, but he's carrying a lot of it.]
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