[Locked & OTA] Splashdown

[living_proof]

WHO: Liv Moore
WHERE: Fountain, Hot Spring
WHEN: May 28 & 29
OPEN TO: Ravi & Everybody
WARNINGS: Zombie talk in the first prompt, semi-nakedness in the second

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6I Fountain - May 28, Evening

Locked to Ravi

You know what I'm not a fan of? Deja vu. In my line of work, or at least the very specific way I go about that line of work, I tend to get it a lot. That niggling feeling that I've been somewhere before, or seen something as someone else. It can be useful, sure — I'm not knocking the tool kit I've got to work with, here. But it can also be irritating. You feel off, like you're caught in a time loop, or in limbo. The worst is when you can't put your finger on why.

Today, though, I know exactly why. It's fortunately not everyday I relive drowning and then throwing up on myself.

It is also fortunately not everyday that experience involves me doing all of that in a fountain, with no memory of how I got there. I haven't had any brains in a few days... Did someone sneak me a piece of party animal without me knowing?

The scrubs I've got on are familiar at least, even if it's been awhile since I wore them for work. I've got somebody's backpack with a bunch of clothes inside, and a smart watch strapped to my left wrist, but nothing's ringing a bell. I heft off the bag, take a seat on the lip of the fountain and scroll through the screens on the watch, looking for clues. Maybe I can make a futuristic phone call on this thing.

There's a list of contacts, a few messages, and— Wait, what? Right there, bold as brass: Ravi Chakrabarti.

Furiously, I type out a message:

ravi what have you done and why was i in a fountain

It's only after I send it that I realize it says it's from Liv Moore. When did I buy a smart watch, and how many drugs was I on?

Hot Springs - May 29, Evening

OTA

I have no idea what I think about being here, and if I actually stop to think about that, I figure that's probably about as good a reaction as I can expect. So far, I haven't had any kind of discernible mental breakdown, although I did very emphatically give Ravi the third degree. Maybe being a zombie has fortified me against acts of supreme and all-encompassing weirdness. I mean, at least I'm myself, and not trying to get my Lara Croft on or sleep with everybody here. That's something.

What I am doing, though, is exploring. I've got no reason to doubt Ravi when he swears we're stuck here, even if I'm clearly not fully processing that I'm here at all. What am I going to do, sit around and hang with Ravi's rats? I've had more than enough of that for about three lifetimes, thanks.

I follow a path that leads out of town and end up at a spring. A hot one, to judge by the steam, with a little waterfall and a clear, rippling pool.

"Nice," I murmur, and after a quick glance around, pull off my shirt.

Comments

[living_proof]

"I do not have a fancy metal arm to hammer stuff, but I do have an M.D.," I reply with a lift of my chin. Not that I've done much to help out the living with all that training recently, but I still can. Whatever that even means here. Probably a lot of minor stuff — Poison ivy, abrasions. The town is definitely sleepy.

"I guess I should find out if there's a place to sign up for that sort of thing, because I definitely wouldn't trust me to chop wood," I add. "I am a pretty banging cook, though."

[freightcars]

"A doctor, huh?" He muses, sounding a touch impressed. No such thing as too many of those; he knows Claire's a nurse, but he's yet to see an actual doctor. Then again he's met like four fucking people, so that's not exactly making a strong statement.

He shifts forward, resting elbows on his knees, chin nearly touching the water. "There's a clinic here. They do what they can, but I'm sure they could use an extra set of hands. Probably more than earn your way there, no need to chop your fingers off cutting wood."

Not that he's doubting her, but... he's totally doubting her. Her hands aren't calloused and she doesn't have the build of a lumberjack, which isn't exactly an insult.

[living_proof]

"100% bona fide," I reply with a nod, "and thank god, with what I've been paying in student loans— Or was, I guess I should say." My face goes a little pinched at the bald reality of being stuck here, even if it means I can say sayonara to my mountain of debt.

But then Bucky's leaning forward and all I can think is Jesus, he's hot, although to be honest, with that hair it probably ought to be Jesus is hot. I'm suddenly glad I've never been religious.

"Yeah, I used to be a surgeon, so not so much with the wood cutting or the meat slicing or really anything that comes with an actual warning label about losing appendages."

I lift my hand to demonstrate I've got all five still attached, and notice the pads of my fingers are starting to go a little pruny. Shit.

"So who gets out first? I'm thinking it needs to be you so I can lounge here and watch, since you peeked when I was getting in."

[freightcars]

He has to laugh, has to shake his head, because she's not wrong. First in, first out, that's the general rule and considering he's betrayed her No Looking trust it's only fair that he be the one to leave. Not that he doesn't enjoy her company, but looking for a graceful and not socially awkward exit has been hovering in the back of his mind for a few minutes now. He appreciates the out.

And he stands, there you go, Liv. There's your view, because the man is SWOL, shirtless, and dripping onto soaking wet scrub bottoms. He rounds the series of rocks that separate them, hovers somewhere over her left shoulder, dips to grab up his bag and rifles around for the towel stowed therein.

Once his hands are dry and he's not quite sopping, he reaches out a hand to her to shake. Might as well be polite before he leaves. "Nice to meet you, been a pleasure."