sixthiterationlogs | here moosey moosey moosey

WHO: Logan Howlett
WHERE: Here, there and everywhere!
WHEN: Jan 25th, afternoon
OPEN TO: All!
WARNINGS: Beware of antlers and moose droppings.
STATUS: Closed

Logan was pretty good at blending into most backgrounds. If no one bothered him, he wouldn't bother them; a fact that went on for the majority of his life. Then again, if anyone didn't know that, all they had to do was see the expression on his face. That usually conveyed things well enough.

But that particular day, there was something, or someone who felt the mutant needed to be more social. Give Logan a reason to be looked at, approached and drawn attention to. And every since that morning, he felt like he was on one of those gag shows.

He'd been cutting wood and after hearing some rustling coming from the shrubs behind him, Logan took a look at saw the antlered animal staring at him. Logan stopped, lowered the ax and raised an eyebrow.

"Got nothin' for you, bub." he called out, watching the animal move a few steps closer and linger. Logan shook his head. "Not kidding. You'll have better luck in the trees."

Nothing did, the moose wasn't planning on moving. So, Logan sighed, went about finishing his cutting while it circled around and continued to watch him cut the wood. Even after disappearing into the house, it still remained close by. When he thought it was gone, he put on his jacket and headed out again, this time to make the trek to the Inn to get something to eat.

Halfway down the road, Logan heard a snort and looked over his shoulder. "You're kidding me. People are in short supply round here. You want to get shot? Don't say I didn't warn ya."

And off the two went in the direction of town.

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If Logan was the type of guy to be easily amused, the reaction of the woman would definitely be an occasion where he would be. It wasn't a normal sight to behold, in fact any other animal beyond a dog and cat would likely cause some brows to go up. But this was neither of those.

"A moose." Logan stopped and looked evenly between the woman and the animal before pulling out a brand new cigar. "I take it you've never seen one before?"

A rhetorical. Obviously, or she wouldn't be asking.

Besides the animal, Nerys also isn't sure exactly what the guy's taken out of his jacket pocket, but it's not a weapon, so she keeps herself friendly enough, open enough. "A...moose," she echoes, testing the word in her mouth. It's a weird-ass word, that's for sure.

"No, I haven't. Well, hadn't, until now. I'm assuming they don't usually follow people around, or I'd have seen one here before?"

It's kind of acting a bit like a giant dog, really, if only because it clearly doesn't care what either the man or Nerys herself are thinking, and it also stopped at the same time he'd stopped.

"Not really." Logan answered, inspecting the cigar before perching it into his lips. "But we're in his habitat. Usually makes them a little more tolerant."

The moose bends down, gathers some sprigs of grass poking through some snow and begins to wander closer to where Nerys was standing. Logan watched as he lit the cigar with a box of matches he grabbed from the Inn.

Bub the Moose was coming to say 'hi'.

At one point a year or two ago, Nerys had dinner with Sisko and Jake and they'd had something called 'moose' for dessert, but she's confident it wasn't exactly the meat of this giant (or the replicated equivalent), unless the animal is made out of chocolate.

"So are they usually, uh, not so tolerant?" she asks, warily eyeing the approaching moose. Usually, she'd be staring at the man lighting up--it isn't exactly something she sees very much--but the horned beast heading towards her is definitely a distraction.

Edited (augh tenses) 2017-02-04 20:31 (UTC)

Had Logan been privy to her thoughts, it would have been one of the rare occasions that he burst into something resembling laughter.

If he actually laughed.

"They're wild animals, so it depends." he told her, too casually. But he was watching and wasn't overly worried about whether Bub would turn on the woman. "I wouldn't scream, or make any quick movements. Don't want him charging you in defense."

Hey, it wasn't a lie.

"Noted," says Nerys dryly, crisp even in the face of massive antlers. Seriously, she's faced worse, but being charged and tossed into the air by those things doesn't sound like the way she wanted to spend her afternoon. Admittedly, none of what she was up to was the way she would ideally spend an afternoon, but she was making the best of a bad situation.

Slowly, she crouched down, rummaged (still looking upwards) for some grass, then extended her arm out very carefully towards the moose.

"This what they eat?" she asked.

Did he think the moose would charge? No, and he was a pretty good judge of animal behavior for the most part. He considered himself one, even if so many tried their best to convince him otherwise.

In fact, as Nerys bent down to pick up the grass, the moose was nearing to first sniff and then to make eye contact. The animal huffed softly, stepped closer again and calmly took the offering.

Only then did Logan grin a bit more at the sight before giving a nod. "Yep. Berries, catskins, twigs, bark. They're herbivores."

"All right, I can live with that," Nerys says. She relaxes a little more, because hell, the best rule with big animals is to not look afraid, in her experience. If anything, the moose seems to be as wary of her as she is the other way around.

"I didn't tend to run into animals much, until I came here. At least not for the last couple of years," she admits, conversationally. The man doesn't seem one for long chats, so she's not going to push too much small talk. "Thanks for not trying to pull my leg and tell me it eats sentient beings instead."

"Don't mention it." he answered, opening his coat to retrieve the half a cigar he'd saved earlier and a pack of matches. His curiosity was piqued though at her mention of not running into much of animals types where she was from.

He paused to light the cigar, taking several puffs. "Where was that?"

It was the first place he'd been where people came from different places; alternate worlds from his own. So far every person he'd met had a story.

It surprises Nerys, a little, to be asked a question by this man. Like the moose, he gives off the impression of being a quiet but powerful force of nature. She's not afraid of him, but--again, like the moose--he seems to be an unknown quantity.

Something deep down makes her pretty sure he can tell if she's dissembling, so she answers truthfully, "A space station," as the animal snuffles around in her palm to try to get every last fiber of grass. "I'd been living there for several years, we don't usually get anything bigger than, uh, a dog or so. Just not easy to travel with them."

The cigar is odd. Not entirely unpleasant, but so completely unlike anything she's used to, and the smell tickles a little. She sniffs, nose running already from being out in the cold, and gets a waft of a spicy library florist smell.

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