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Phone.
[Spike sounds oddly manic, not that you would know it was odd for him.]
I guess this is like a conference call, huh? So who's on the other end. [a few crickets...] Not sure what to make of all this, but. Haven't seen a phone like this since--[sudden throat clearing]
What do you lot do around here? Go to the drive-in with your steadies and buy big league chew at the game with your pop? It's all just a little [frightening?] too good to be true.
[muttering] Still not sure I'm not dreaming this up. [Or you know, still in a basement losing his mind.]
Action for 1448 Mitchell Road.
[Oh, Krillin, where are you? He'll only be terrified to see you.
He doesn't even know there's anyone else in the house, going to pour himself a bowl of cereal and ruffling up his hair. It feels bizarre and not at all right that his growling stomach actually wants human food.
But it feels good, too.]
Open Action.
[Spike is walking down Mitchell Road, but feel free to meet him anywhere he'll be walking a while. In slacks and a plain blue sweater, he's just, meandering, hands in his pockets as he tries not to feel the remnants of sunlight beat down on his back. It's so strange and wonderful to feel it and yet, what did he do to deserve it. Is this a new kind of Hell dimension where they torture you with kindness.
And then he bumps into you because--without vampire senses he's really the clumsiest person you've ever met. Actually, he's not that smooth with them either.] --Sorry. [Just make nice with the locals until you get the skinny, he keeps telling himself. Easier said than bloody done. This place was Stepford creepy and twice as annoying.]
[Spike sounds oddly manic, not that you would know it was odd for him.]
I guess this is like a conference call, huh? So who's on the other end. [a few crickets...] Not sure what to make of all this, but. Haven't seen a phone like this since--[sudden throat clearing]
What do you lot do around here? Go to the drive-in with your steadies and buy big league chew at the game with your pop? It's all just a little [frightening?] too good to be true.
[muttering] Still not sure I'm not dreaming this up. [Or you know, still in a basement losing his mind.]
Action for 1448 Mitchell Road.
[Oh, Krillin, where are you? He'll only be terrified to see you.
He doesn't even know there's anyone else in the house, going to pour himself a bowl of cereal and ruffling up his hair. It feels bizarre and not at all right that his growling stomach actually wants human food.
But it feels good, too.]
Open Action.
[Spike is walking down Mitchell Road, but feel free to meet him anywhere he'll be walking a while. In slacks and a plain blue sweater, he's just, meandering, hands in his pockets as he tries not to feel the remnants of sunlight beat down on his back. It's so strange and wonderful to feel it and yet, what did he do to deserve it. Is this a new kind of Hell dimension where they torture you with kindness.
And then he bumps into you because--without vampire senses he's really the clumsiest person you've ever met. Actually, he's not that smooth with them either.] --Sorry. [Just make nice with the locals until you get the skinny, he keeps telling himself. Easier said than bloody done. This place was Stepford creepy and twice as annoying.]
