Description: The aftermath of Mukai's destruction of the building and the city left for Jiro and Rust to find a place to recover. Jiro, having suffered from the darkness in his heart has entered a state of despair. However, Jiro learns an important truth behind Rust through a surprise visitor.
Not so long after a narrow escape that involved plenty of falling debris, two men probably taking far more of a beating than should be humanly possible by the hardest, heaviest stone, and maybe a dramatic leap out a window (or two - somehow)...
For being a largely abandoned city, for reasons that continue to remain obscure (perhaps it is a paradox in motion), both of the major highways leading off the peninsula that Southtown occupies are... overly occupied. Cars, as far as the eyes can see. The walk was probably far too long for either of them after a near-escape with their lives (in Rust's case, a near-escape with his life and a nice long walk over to the Kyokugen Dojo to check on Yuri). After a long day, with nowhere else to really go...
A hotel stay's in order, if only for the evening. If nothing else, that one fight in the Gaia Tournament led to one Howard Rust, for once in a long time, having money to burn. Buying one of the more expensive rooms out of consideration for all the refugees who could probably only afford the cheapest rooms, it's not really a foray into relaxing luxury so much as something that gives both Howard - and Jiro, should he choose to join him - the grim reminder of how bad things have gotten before one even factors the whole twisting of time, or the whole end of the world thing being espoused...
Or all the additional worrying events that are being blared through the TV now that they're at a place with /reception/ and /internet/ and everything. The Japanese government and even cultural landmarks are under heavy terrorist action as worldwide unrest continues to grow. Promising students at the best high school in the country - if not the world! - have had a bit of an issue with numerous suicides. Metro City is lost, unable to be rebuilt after a great final tsunami. To say nothing of a number of things he's been told...
While he has a moment of respite (and a brand new laptop), Howard sits on a lush bed whose sheets are probably made of some expensive and exotic materials he's never heard, expressing beautiful geometric patterns and colors he's not sure actually have any basis in accepted reality, the biggest god damn flatscreen TV ever seen that's not in a stadium, and a beautiful skyline view of all the hazy smog one could ever want.
Luxury, indeed.
Finally having seen it fit to patch himself with bandages and ample amounts of disinfectant and other such things, Howard's finally putting on a regular shirt as phone ringing noises sound from the laptop, while the TV displaying all the horrible tragedies and events the world over has been turned down to near-minimum volume.
Not even the extravagant lighting by expertly hand-crafted chandeliers and state-of-the-art electrical engineering can fight off the aura of dread and darkness that clouds Southtown in its entirety. It's kind of a wonder anything can get out at all from here... but then again, Howard did pay for probably the very best room. Who knows what wizardry they're hiding from the less fortunate in here...
The events with the encounter at the building left Jiro exhausted. The presence of those from the past have took a toll on Jiro. That burning rage that seeks to rend everything in its path lingered onto him like poison. However, through the strength of Rust, Jiro has managed to stave it off. He fought through it to live to see another day.
It is not defeated.
Who knows when that growing darkness will seep in again. He does not know how long before it completely takes him over. Those feelings... they continue to haunt him.
Here he is, lying on the couch with his head against the railing. The vision hazy as he listens to the sounds of death and destruction. His eyes slowly focus, gazing at the ceiling with an expression of thoughtfulness.
So, his presence here was a fluke. How amusing.
"How long until it consumes me...? I only managed to hold it off..." In the end, its presence again is inevitable.
"C'mon... pick up," Howard murmurs at the laptop as it continues to make those ringing noises. He grunts at the frustration of how convenient technology is. So convenient that when it doesn't work exactly as advertised, when it dares deviate because of any environmental reason (such as, well, VOLCANIC ASH EVERYWHERE), he finds it in him to be upset over it.
Then again, he's been expressing serious worry and concern the whole day since he visited the Kyokugen Dojo and helped see Yuri out of there as the last person present - he's made sure to get her her own room so that she could have free range of the telephone and make all the relevant calls she might be willing to make to any friends and family. He really wants this room's line open, for his own reasons.
This being a disaster area and the majority of the guests here being refugees trying to figure out where to go next, it's a wonder that ANYTHING gets out, at all. Perhaps Howard is asking too much of simple technology... as Jiro laments out loud the nature of whatever's been eating away at him.
Howard looks over his shoulder as he sets the laptop on the bed back to the troubled young man who is clearly at no better rest than he himself is. Nobody's been able to truly catch a break, what with the whole world breaking apart.
"Y-You know, uh... I, I didn't really... get a chance to ask," what, in the hours of walking around in the horrible ash-filled haze, is this really the first time it's come to mind? Then again, after what the both of them went through earlier in the day...
"Is this, ah... is this... something you've... you've always had, or, the... the whole... rage thing."
As Jiro dwells upon the darkness within him, he seems to be lost within the despair that has been growing in his heart. His eyes narrow, looking down before he hears the voice speaking out to him.
The Stray Dog looks over towards Howard, slowly rising himself back up from the bed. He considers his words briefly.
"...Somewhat," Jiro answers, "I had it at some point." His eyes lift back towards the ceiling as he looks introspective, "I mingled around with the stray animals around when I moved here. ... I was consumed by loneliness that I started to connect with them all. At first, when I interacted with them, I could understand the animals by their expression and posture." His eyes flutter shut, "Soon, I could actually hear them speak in my mind." There is an amused look, even if sadden. "I slowly started to inherit all of their traits."
"... However, that gave birth to something in me. Something that I hid for a long time. ...Every feeling that I had buried in my fed into it. ... It created a beast." His eyes lift up towards Rust, the eyes now losing the blue hue and adopts a green pair of slits.
"It's why you see me appear beastly as I tend to."
The aging American man turns around where he sits on the bed so he can better face Jiro. That, and because it really hurts his neck to turn his head that way. That one rock he headbutted on the way down, that one by all rights should've snapped his neck in twain, recognizing both incredible luck and his fortunate hardiness to physical duress as he gently massages it with his left hand.
Being able to survive such a thing doesn't make it hurt /less/ - but he's not distracted from Jiro's words as he gives the 411 about the whole darkness flames, berserker rage kind of deal. He nods along about the whole animal affinity thing... Jiro did seem like he had a thing for what animals he did see out and about in the ash-filled landscape. Inheriting their traits? Well... wouldn't be the first time he's heard of someone so attuned to nature bringing some of its traits unto themselves and how they fight and carry themselves.
He leans forward as the conversation takes a turn for the darker. Bottled-up feelings? A beast, those... human eyes don't typically do that, do they? He lowers his hand away from his neck.
"That... that sounds... p-pretty serious," Howard probably understates the severity of it all. "You, ah... I, I hope I'm not... prying when I ask," he clears his throat - he's been out of the ash and in relatively clean, heavily conditioned, actually breathable air for a while and he's /still/ coughing and hacking things up every so often, "'scuse me," he pats his chest.
"You... you ever... see someone 'bout this? I mean... back then, before... before... now."
The ringing continues. Howard turns his head towards the laptop expectantly for... something or another. It's not clear who or what he might be trying to call - he hasn't said.
Jiro can't help but give a muted laugh, appraising his life. There are so many factors as to explain why he is the way he is. Although Rust has been very helpful about him so far, Jiro is not sure if he wants to unfold all of his cards. His path seeking power led for the inner beast in him to grow stronger. That beast continues to seethe in him, wanting to lead everything into ruin.
However, Jiro at least felt comfortable enough with explaining his underlying issue. Or at least, Jiro /owed/ Rust, the man who has given him a second chance, that much.
The eyes slowly return to normal, then they slowly shut. The Stray Dog takes the time to just listen to Rust.
"You're the first to have done what you did for me." A faint smile grows, "...I've endured many people who I looked up to turning their backs on me." The smile fades, the echoes of despair running along his face as he gives a rueful chuckle.
"I owe this information to you. ...You have been one of the few that believed in me... I would do you a disservice by keeping it from you."
There is a snort.
"No. I do not trust anyone regarding my situation." His eyes fall shut, "...At this point, it no longer matters. All what is important is trying to fix the issue that is going on in this world. ...And it seems that it is all centered on Saiki."
It probably doesn't help that the two of them are barely a step above strangers. Howard basically came into Jiro's life entirely out of nowhere, picking him up from the middle of the road... where the two would soon be accosted by a strange individual, both sent on their own misadventures... all culminating to their paths rejoining as people with large stakes in trying to make heads or tails out of all of this.
The answers have likely not been to anyone's liking. It's a lot of bitter pills to swallow. Maybe even the entire bottle... don't even have to take the lid off! Just eat the whole big ol' plastic bottle! All the bitter pills, at once!
Howard seems unsure as to what to say to much of it - that air of distrust. Is he really the first one to show him any sort of kindness on that level...? A part of him seems equal parts stunned and maybe even disbelieving. Jiro doesn't even seem to be all that bad of a kid in the least. Some temper issues, sure, but... betrayed and shoved aside, disregarded, up until now?
"I, I think it does matter," Howard speaks up at last, a ways after Jiro's snorting, "I don't care what... what people're sayin' 'bout the end of the world, I--"
"Hello?" A different male voice speaks up from the laptop. The voice of an old man, whose voice is stern. Sharp. In comparison to how Howard can sometimes be hard to hear because of all his stuttering, mumbling, and just dragging it... on... and on... and on... this voice sounds concise.
"Ah, shit, s-sorry... I, I didn't say, ah, Jiro, one sec, I've been, I've been trying to get thro-- hey." Howard turns the laptop closer towards himself... and thinks to angle it a ways towards Jiro. "C-Can you see me?"
"Howard?" Asks the old voice. "I can see you got yourself a swanky place."
"Uhh... y-yeah... you can see me," Howard murmurs, with the tone suggesting he'd rather move on from what he knows is coming next, "h-how are you--"
"Did you get a real job yet?" The old voice asks. If Jiro leans over to get a look, it's an old man that's in his 70s... or 80s? He looks the part. Shriveled. He leans a bit too close to whatever camera to make out much of him other than his face. A perpetual frown, very tired brown eyes... doughy, saggy cheeks, almost like a Saint Bernard. "Well? You can't afford a house like that unless you got a real job, Howard."
The voice is tinged with disappointment and criticism. Disapproval. It may not be a pleasant sort of thing for Jiro to hear, given his personal life experiences. How many times has he been greeted in such a way by certain people he might've looked up to?
"...Alma and Frei have been there for me..." A faint smile grows, "... Alma, especially." He shakes his head, "...However, none of that matters here. Everything is so far apart. After all, I'm dead, remember?" Jiro glances over towards Rust while his eyes narrow at the older man.
A voice speaks up from the laptop. "Hm?" The young man slowly turns around, tryingto pull himself from the couch. However, the effects from the presence of Mukai lingers within him. He can feel the inner rage trying to seep through his veins. It is calling forth those dark flames to manifest itself around him. Slowly, Jiro starts to tune it out, staggering over towards Rust and the laptop.
The exchange between both rust and the old man. Jiro gazes at the monitor a bit more closely to see the old man. However, the man carries that feeling that Jiro has grown accustomed to: Disappointment.
Jiro is slowly turning his head away, gritting his teeth as the fists tighten. This is too close to home. His eyes lift up, gazing up to see Rust's reaction.
It's always reassuring to have good friends to count on, isn't it? Alma has been a name he's inevitably heard many times (and possibly had contact with, off-screen, over matters when he's brought to the YFCC for whatever reason). Frei, though, that's a mutual friend the both of them share. Howard would at least inwardly hope that Frei's got his finger on the pulse of whatever craziness is going on...
If only he knew the truth of the matter...
Howard doesn't seem able to address the fatalism at the moment, given that this is apparently a very important call he's been trying to make. An important call that seems to be filled full of a very old man (older than Howard and... he's not quite that old but he sure looks it, given all the pipe-wielding Kyokugen fighter kind of puts himself through).
Rust's reaction, as Jiro looks upon it, is one of weariness - but, at the same time, familiarity. A bit of a smile? Howard's face tends not to be very expressive. (It's probably because it's a Playstation 1 texture, but, semantics!)
"I'm... I'm happy with what I got, dad," Howard responds, as though it's not the first time he's said it, "it's--"
"You keep getting yourself hurt for peanuts, Howard," the now-identified 'dad' figure lectures, "you gave up that comfy job at that high school just to get your ass kicked? You grew up knowing what being injured and unable to go out and work looks like. You're in your forties and you're still mucking around. When are you going to settle down with Liz?"
Howard grimaces visibly at this as he rolls one of his shoulders. He casts a look over to Jiro, who he sees looking back at him with those grit teeth and clenched fist. He holds up the hand closer to Jiro, palm open, as if to say 'hold on.'
"Dad, she... she cheated on me years ago, we... we aren't a thing any more--"
The old man leans a bit closer to the camera. "Howard? Who's that?"
Howard gestures for Jiro to come a little closer, if he's so inclined, despite the Stray Dog looking particularly irritated and riled up. He doesn't blame him - Howard feels guilty for snubbing him mid-talk, but that's no reason to push him out entirely.
"This... this guy, 's name's... Jiro. Friend of mine, we're... we're staying in a hotel tonight... h-hey," he faces Jiro, "this is my dad."
It's hard to tell what his dad thinks of Jiro just looking at him. (He doesn't look particularly inviting.)
Hearing this conversation is depressingly despair-inducing. Jiro's eyes narrow as he looks away, already feeling the wounds from his own truth come forth. It looks like there is something that Rust and he share. The young boy turns his head at the older man, listening to the conversation more.
"...Heh." It looks like the old man has no love for fighters. Nevertheless, Jiro blinks as Rust extends his hand out with the palm open to tell him to hold on.
As the old man looks at the camera, Jiro glances at the old man. Jiro has nothing against Rust for snubbing him mid-talk. However, the tense atmosphere builds a familiar air.
As the boy wanders closer towards the camera, the Stray Dog looks at the old man. The gaze is not an inviting one. Just as the old man's gaze is not inviting, Jiro's eyes narrow with that uneasy gaze. The hair stand briefly, as if hackles have been raised. However, his scowl is restrained. What is easy to see is that the young boy has grown rigid.
The only thing that the boy can muster is, "...Yo."
"...Hi." The old man responds to Jiro's completely unfriendly gaze. If the two were to stare at one another in person, it might be one of the staring contests for the ages. If it broke out into a fight, well, Jiro doesn't need to be there in person to tell. Howard's dad is absolutely no match for him in body. In putting forth a fierce, unapproachable air?
Jiro could probably crib some notes from him.
"You look like you want to take a piece out of someone." Rust's dad observes. "I know that look. My son there used to give me the same eye before he'd beat me up at your age."
...
Howard frowns slightly at the mention of that. This is probably not the first complete stranger he'd used to tell, for whatever reason.
"Dad... l-let's not... I'm, I'm many years out of that." Howard shakes his head. "I, I just wanted to call to... to let you know I'm all right, and... and that--"
"You better come home is what it sounds like." So the father commands. "Howard, how do you keep letting yourself do this? You scared me and your friends at home half to death every time you get caught in... what happened so far? That invasion, those wars... don't think I haven't heard what you did!"
Jiro may have heard bits and pieces about Howard if he's asked around while he was out. Howard Rust is a celebrated war hero of sorts - 'Hero of Nepal' from being the one who really turned the tide in an earlier invasion when Shadaloo-puppeted China overtook Russia and started to systematically try to take over the world is the one that sticks out most. This is something most people should be proud to hear - he didn't do it on his own, but he is one of the faces most often accredited to saving the world a number of times over.
He still can't ever seem to get things straightened out when it comes to paperwork or getting much headway in his career as a full-time fighter, but he has that.
Why would anyone like his dad be so disappointed in him, then? Even so, Howard just shakes his head a few times, but... he doesn't seem to be in that much distress, at all. Actually, in stark contrast to Jiro's growing despair, Howard himself seems almost reassured just talking to him.
"It's like it's the end of the world out there. You're living /next to an erupting volcano/ for Christ's sake, Howard!"
It is a good thing that the older man recognzies that Jiro does not think too highly of him. Of course, the man would likely not care. Nevertheless, that both feelings would be mutual.
The hackles remain raised until the older man finally speaks out about wanting to take a piece out of someone. Jiro only closes his eyes with a smirk growing. "...Heh." Then, the young man re-opens his gaze to focus on Rust as he speaks. The exchange is made and...
Jiro is taking a bit of a silent observation between the two.
"Nngh."
So, it seems that his father wants Rust to return home. However, despite of the old man's accomplishments, Jiro is staying quiet.
However, seeing Howard just taking it in without any form of distress... It makes Jiro angry.
"... Shouldn't you be proud that your son has been a hero? That he turned the tide of war so that people can keep living? He has done stuff that has been bigger than anyone."
It would anger so many, wouldn't it? To be belittled and spoken down to by someone so close, to brush aside some of the truly great things one did for nothing - and yet, Howard over there doesn't seem too riled up about any of it. Why? His father has done pretty much nothing but vent disappointments on him since the two began talking! It has to be emotionally a terrible thing to go through, wouldn't it? Disapproval from one's father...?
"Whoa," Howard speaks up as Jiro angrily defends him, but this vocalization is lost in Jiro's defense on his behalf. Why doesn't Rust speak back himself? It can't be that he's afraid. He sure doesn't seem afraid of his own dad. (His dad even just came forth and said that Howard used to be the one to beat the crap out of him!)
"Maybe you don't understand because you're probably not a father, Jiro," his dad starts waving a finger - huh, that must be where his son got the gesture from, "but I'd like to think my son would grow up and do something with his life other than go hurt people! Maybe he might not look it, but he was one of the best guys the local construction firm ever hired! He got a hell of a big break as a high school teacher at a fancy school, and look what he threw it all away on!"
Howard's dad continues to snap. "Is that too much to ask? I don't want to pass onto the great beyond and say to St. Peter that my only child grew up to be someone's thug!"
"Okay. Okay. Okay." Howard finally speaks up, repeating 'okay' a few times as he holds his forearm out to Jiro, leaning in a bit on the laptop. "Dad... it's, it's been hard everywhere... I, I know. I'm... I'm not a thug like... like mom, and," he moves to rest a hand on Jiro's shoulder, if he allows him to, "neither is he."
Jiro is prone to great bursts of anger and violence but that's something that probably doesn't need to be pointed out for the sake of the argument.
Howard's dad grunts in a manner not entirely dissimilar to Howard himself. That's another thing he got from him.
"I... I just wanted to, to make sure you were okay. It's... it's gonna... it's gonna get a, a lot worse before it gets any better." Will it get better? So far, the odds are looking like 'no,' but Howard seems to hold onto that faith. "I'm... I'm really sorry that, that I couldn't... reach you for weeks, dad, I got--"
"When you call back, and you're going to call back," Howard's dad interjects, "you're going to tell me about your new job. I mean it this time. Are we clear?"
Howard just nods his head. "I'll... I'll tell ya all 'bout my job, sure. Y-You just... sit tight. I'll k-keep in better touch now, okay... love you, dad."
Those words don't ring like hollow nothings. After all, this is the end of the world - when Howard speaks those words, they carry a heavy weight. A sincerity, given how heavy the circumstances are now. Still, if this is one of the last times they'll ever talk if - or when, as is looking more likely - worse comes to worse... these aren't exactly the friendliest overall parting words, are they?
"Ah, you keep saying that," the father looks away as the feed suddenly turns off abruptly.
The Stray Dog looks over towards the older man, the scowl becoming a more vicious sneer. The young boy has not had much luck with the older men department.
"Sorry, I am afraid I don't know how fathers are supposed to be, other than turning their backs." The bitterness seeps in, all of the bitterness from those lingering memories are coming forth. However, that bitterness is quickly repressed as Howard finally interrupts the talk. With the hand placed on his shoulder, Jiro lowers his head.
"Nnggh."
This is ridiculous. The young man just heaves a sigh, shaking his head. The young man watches the two talk.
As the feed turns off, Jiro grits his teeth and he steps away, exploding up from his seat.
"... This is why I no longer know what father-figures are supposed to be like."
Pause.
"...I'm sorry. ...I may have been out of line, but... just the way he kept speaking to you."
Howard closes the laptop as it all comes to an end. He doesn't seem really all too upset by any of it, by appearances. Well, his knee kind of does as it is popping loudly as he puts some weight on one of his legs, but his knee has never really had an opinion that had been respectfully heeded (other than 'please do not attempt to lift the huge stone man with interesting white pattern markings on them again, ever,' that much is crystal clear).
"Well... he is, ah, really... disappointed that, that I'm a fighter," Howard repeats what is made plainly obvious just from the conversation as he stands up from the bed. He takes in a deep breath, maybe so he can enjoy the cleaner air for just a bit longer. (He has a whole evening to do this!)
"Sometimes, Jiro, sometimes... w-we don't... we don't see eye to eye on, ah, everything," Howard says as he stands up, stretching out his arms and legs and-- oh my god, all the popping. What the hell did this man do to his body to make it so? At the end of his little stretching session, he turns to face the troubled teenager filled with dangerous impulses, walking around the perimeter of the bed so he can stand a bit closer.
"My dad... y-yeah, he says some pretty, ah... loaded, things," that's putting it lightly, "but... but he never gave up on me, growin' up. I mean... h-he couldn't work, it's, it's kinda a wonder the state didn't... didn't put me into a, a foster home, or nothing." He says, lips pursed tightly as he recalls a lot of the troublesome earlier years. "E-Early on, I had to be the, the breadwinner, and... well, I liked fighting. Th-that's what my mom did, but... she... she wasn't a great person, kinda... caused a lot of problems, but--"
He shakes his head. He snorts. "We do care 'bout one another. I... I know where he comes from on, on all of that. Sure, we, ah, we give each other shit. All the time." Every time, every call. He casts a glance to the side as though there were something interesting out the window, but there isn't. It's just smoke. "It's... it's... the same for, for a lotta people who're close to one another."
Howard sits back down on his bed, probably because his knees do demand respect after everything. He walked how long, how far today after being nearly beaten to an inch of his life during the escape? They deserve a break. He pats on the bed to let Jiro sit down next to him if he wants to.
"I... I can't, can't speak for... for how rough it was, ah, growin' up for you." Howard definitely had it rough, but he's not so vainglorious to believe he had it the worst. After all, he had his dad. "I... I don't know... everything that, ah, that went the way it did, but... I, I doubt I'm the first to, to give you a hand, 'cause... well."
Howard takes in another breath, but he keeps his eyes level to Jiro as he rests one of his arms on his lap... no, ouch! His elbow there is so tender! He lifts it up slightly without missing a beat and carefully lowers it back down.
"It... it kinda cuts... both ways, Jiro. There's, ah, there's a lotta assholes out there, I'm... yeah. Can't... can't even count 'em on my hand if I had, like... a thousand hands." He raises his one right hand to illustrate. "But... but, if you're willin' to, take someone's hand, you might find that... hey, they're facin' you. They want to. They wanna reach out, I mean... how many times have, ah, over the years, have... people just, just come outta nowhere to help me."
How many times, indeed...
He raises his left hand upward. "I mean, you... you took mine, out on the street when... when I found you, right? How'd that work out?"
As the laptop shuts tightly, Jiro looks over towards the older man. However, the youth cannot help but loook annoyed at the fact that the older man is so calm. His teeth grits, the glare just now directed at the old man. "How the hell can you be so calm at this?!"
Rust explains about the relationship. This leaves an unpleasant taste in the boy's mouth. His head rests against the seat where he was laying at, his head leaning back against the railing. Both eyes fall shut.
"...Hrm."
Jiro lowers his head, "... He cares about you, yeah." There is a rueful smile, "He expects you to call him and let him know if you are making something of yourself."
That brief moment where Rust mentions about people giving each other shit, the young man thinks back to his time. His time. Mimiru and him never saw eye to eye. They always quarraled with one another. His mother and him, they generally argued quite a bit, but she was there for them both. At least, at the times that she was not sucked into her job. She worked too much to do anything with them both.
There is a sad smile that forms. He lifts his head up at Rust. At first, Jiro was not likely to move from his seat, but he finally decides to get up and join beside Rust once he pats down for him.
"Many of the people at various schools have been there for me. Sakura, Alma, Frei, Mimiru..." He lowers his head, "Everyone from my own time, the friends that I have made." THe frown grows, "...I barely have any of that here." He gives a frown, "I suppose that I have Alma, Jira, Frei, and you."
The Stray Dog closes his eyes with a frown growing. Between his time in Paris and here, he is getting a sense of who he can trust. However, the tension grows when Jiro gazes over at Rust.
"Take someone's hand.."
They want to reach out. His eyes lower as he thinks back to when he finally turned his back on Mimiru, who had been trying to reach out to him.
~ "That all I've ever wanted... All the Mimiru you used to know ever wanted was for you to be happy..." ~
The young boy's eyes lower, cast away as he feels his heart sink once more.
His eyes lift up towards Rust, "... Well, we're still alive, right? We pissed off some Godlike guy and managed to get out with our lives."
Howard listens to Jiro, putting the brakes on his own exposition for a little while. Maybe it's due to the virtue of lungs that are increasingly stressed from having had to breathe in all that... stuff. If only the strange pink man didn't totally shatter his gas mask...
Still, he's not one to want to interrupt Jiro as he mulls about the people he has called friends, the difficulty in catching up with them when brought to a time that is not his... the events of Paris are still a blank to Rust. He doesn't know what he went through when partaking in trying to reconnect with family that had since moved on until he reappeared.
"I, I... I gotta be honest, Jiro, I... I don't know how I, uh, keep... beating the odds on that," he says, as though sounding a bit less confident than when he hereby declared that the big scary stone man was ultimately a waste of their time in the wake of being shattered like a stone himself. His upper back remembers being backhanded into that wall.
Ouch. So much so, he has to rub his right shoulder again.
How the hell did he even keep it together on the way to the Kyokugen Dojo? Being somehow fine enough after a near death experience to make it all the way there, then... still have enough of it in him, in all of them really, to come here? The way he's feeling, he'd probably have checked into a hospital if he knew there'd actually be a bed or two available. The best he can do is try and get a good night's rest and hope he doesn't feel too cruddy when he wakes up.
"I'm not gonna... take it for granted," he says, choosing to be level and realistic in the face of a fantastical, if horrifying, end of space and time itself from all that's been said, "but... but I'm not gonna wait for it to fall... fall apart. The, the stories you hear 'bout me... 's true, usually, I'm, I'm the one that's the last one standing, but... but I never fought 'em alone."
Howard straightens up where he sits, facing over to Jiro as he waves a hand about to illustrate something or another. "I made a... uh, a lot of friends over the years. If... if Saiki doesn't, ah, help us out," based on how insistent that one individual was about Saiki's power, something deep down makes him hope this Saiki person is a reasonable character open to discussion about matters of the world's continuation, "our... our best chance, Jiro."
He points out to the window, to all the smoke. "We gotta round up everyone we can. It's, it's really eatin' me up, Jiro, I, I'm not gonna lie." He is squeezing at the amazing sheets that defy logic with the hand that's against the bed, "I'm... pretty scared 'bout what we're looking at, and, and I've seen... a lot."
Boy, has he.
"Long as... long as I got someone like... like my dad, keepin' a good thought for, y'know, the future, well... who'm I to say otherwise?"
"Heh."
The Stray Dog looks rather bemused now, considering Rust as he explains of his survival and the story behind the title that he has been given. There is a consideration that Jiro is giving Rust as he speaks. "Who can explain it? I've been through quite a lot as well." He laughs a little more, "Survival is what we do best when the world wants to put us down."
Once the topic shifts towards a more determined-filled path, Jiro looks just as determined. "Well, I suppose we'll have to find everyone that we can in order to deal with Saiki, then." He grunts, considering Daniel's words from before regarding Saiki, "... I don't think this Saiki guy will be a reasonable one." He narrows his eyes, "So, it looks like we'll have to resolve this by getting everyone together."
His eyes lower a bit, "... I don't know." To be scared? Jiro is not sure. The thought is rather scary, but perhaps it is the fact that he should not even exist here that the feeling has subsided to a faint thought.
"...I'll do my part to ensure the future." He shrugs, "I seem to have been here based on a fluke, but... let's make that fluke count, huh?"
Log created on 19:52:35 09/18/2014 by Jiro, and last modified on 13:08:27 09/28/2014.