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Mods ([personal profile] modblob) wrote in [community profile] redmarsshit2020-04-27 08:43 pm
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test drive meme: april 2020

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

▶ SPECIAL NOTE: We're only a month off from the 1 year anniversary of the first TDM, and we received this request for a fancy dress ball, so we thought it would be funny fun to run with it! This TDM will only have one prompt/event, as the monthly log with a bit more plot-related stuff will be going up on Friday May 1st.

a. an invitation.

There are ears everywhere in Anchor. A maintenance bot here, a surveillance AI there. SINI, restlessly pacing the dark digital hallways as she watches over the things that still matter to her. It doesn't take long for word to get out about Starscream's expedition plans. It takes an even shorter time for that news to circulate amongst Anchor's robo-population.

They know when you're unhappy. They always know.

It's why residents will start waking up one fine day to find gorgeous clothes laid out for them to wear and an invitation to a formal dinner taking place down at the plaza at Anchor’s base. The clothes aren't particularly specific to a character's gender, species, or culture - it's all about what the bots think your character would like best. Even if they're wildly off the mark, the clothes are still made to fit and fashioned beautifully. The invitations are marked "TOMORROW, STARTING AT 6PM LOCAL TIME." A smaller note underneath instructs attendees to see the tailor bot adjacent to the spa if they are unsatisfied with their assigned clothing, and also that the spa bots are on high alert, prepared to beautify anyone who wants some extra pampering and a dash of makeup.

Just be careful. Some of the makeover bots are really fond of glitter.


b. quite the spread.

True to the word of the invitation, the plaza is closed off under large white tents and guarded by bots who encouragingly steer you elsewhere should you try to get inside. They're nice, polite, all the things they've been programmed to be whether they like it or not, but there will be no sneaking by them into the party area.

At 6pm on the dot the day after the clothes arrive, characters will find music playing on all levels of Anchor, broadcast from the musical robots who have been practicing ever since that first tiny party almost a year ago.

Invitations will be taken by a bot in an impeccably tailored suit, and characters will be welcomed onto the red carpet that curves around the edge of the park and into the area cordoned off for festivities. The flashbulbs and cheering of bots that line the carpet echo through Anchor, broadcast along with the music until it sounds like the entire place is full of faintly electronic cheering. Each arrival is greeted with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, their image projected larger than life against the interior of Anchor's dome.

The sides of the tents have been rolled up, revealing the absolutely decadent set-up within.

Rows upon rows of buffet tables laid out with the most extravagant and strange dishes for residents to try. All of it delicious, though not all of it will appeal to every palate. There are sweet dishes, savory, spicy, whatever you can imagine. Appetizers of a hundred different kinds. Fruit plates formed into works of art, showing places and events from around Anchor. There are spun sugar reindire. Tiny plates of hors d'oeuvres that depict the faces of residents, both current and former. One particularly large dish is sculpted in the shape of what looks like an explosion emanating from Anchor's base, near where the locked and flooded rooms were found.

There's a cake near the middle of it all, frosting painting an image of a young, smiling man. Anyone who's seen him will, after a moment, recognize the whole and handsome features of a much younger Creepy Joe - the words on the cake say LET'S CELEBRATE OUR OLDEST LIVING RESIDENT!

While most of the food is at least recognizably from the general stores and from the agricultural level, there are other plants and garnishes that look entirely foreign. If asked where they came from, the bots will simply insist they're part of Anchor’s available resources.

There is also a full-service bar, but...not manned by the usual bartender (for anyone who might ask, the other bots will kindly inform them that the usual bartender is on sabbatical for stress). Instead there's a freshly-built bot serving drinks of all kinds, taking requests for old favorites and mixing up new cocktails based on guests' stated tastes.

The only thing not on the menu is a tequila sunrise.

There's a table full of hookahs and little treats that have various light, pleasant effects. These range from simple mood lifts to treats that will leave characters blissed out and relaxed.


c. dance, our residents, dance!

After people have finished arriving, the band picks up and guests' attention is directed upward toward Anchor's dome, where there's a truly magnificent light show being projected with musical accompaniment. It's spectacular, haunting and beautiful...and it shows more than just lights. It also shows celestial bodies in motion across the planet's dusk-red sky, meteor showers, strange northern lights. The show itself is almost an hour long, and ends with words unfurling across the apex of the dome.


HAPPY +1 ANNIVERSARY ANCHOR #3, THE LONGEST RUNNING COLONY.

STAY HERE, STAY HAPPY!



The show fades away and the music picks up again, encouraging guests to dance.

Go on, dance.

It’s a party after all.


d. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to ask a friend to back you up to take out the toothy voids? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.



nothinglikefather: made by peaked (Default)

[personal profile] nothinglikefather 2020-05-12 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
Jacob looks down at himself with a grin. True his suit is less eye-catching in colour, but the waistcoat makes up for that.

"Clearly they only give these suits to the most handsome men in Anchor."

And they look good. Neither of them had a say at what was delivered to them after all, and Jacob would never purposefully copy someone else.
hypothermic: (tumblr_inline_p1rxsyWAU21rwwjc4_100)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-12 07:37 am (UTC)(link)
Len watches Kabal's face for what feels like a long time, especially for the guy who can't breathe, waiting for Kabal to scream 'You've been Punk'd' in his face, like a psychotic Ashton Kutcher straight out of the deep-fryer. That would make it easier to kill him.

There's a blue tinge to Kabal's scarred lips, and he still hasn't cracked. That's commitment.

For the first time in this conversation, Len's starting to believe he might be legit. It's too much to fully process right now.

"Put the mask back on. You're no good to me more-dead." Is that an answer? It's going to have to be. At least while they're in public. Time might have stopped for an entirely unromantic moment, but the party is still going on around them. Len is going to punch the next person reaching between them for shrimp in the throat.

Can't these crustacean-obsessed losers tell they're having a moment? Fuck it.

Before Kabal can put his mask back on, Len leans in to graze his lips with a barely there kiss. Uncharacteristically soft.

"Stop looking at them, and start looking at me. Or I'm gone. Got it? I don't do second place." Not again. He can't take it anymore.

If this goes down the way it did with Mick, Len's swearing off tall, brawny, charbroiled chunks of beef brisket for good. Platonic, romantic, or chaotic.

He'll go vegan. Like everyone else who hates themselves.
seaboard: (little voices left to rot and plot)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-12 12:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Her fingers lift to cover her smile as she almost laughs. Which isn't proper, at all, so she does her best to stiffle it with her head bowing to make sure it is hidden before she continues. "Yes. I have to say it is... it is not my usual... usual... circumstance."

Nothing has been, she hasn't known how to talk or behave or do anything since she arrived. "Which is not to say I am ungrateful, I am very much so, to be invited. It is very kind that they thought of me and were so happy to see each of us. That is nice, don't you think?"
seaboard: (but will not lift you)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-12 12:13 pm (UTC)(link)
"Why ever would anyone regret the Father-Sea? He is the benefactor of my family for centuries." She is so proud, so loving, of this the one thing it is right to be proud and loving public of. "When we are children, he takes us into the sea, and remakes us, before giving us back to our Mothers and Fathers. He makes us strong, and in turn, we praise and love him, that is why we call him Father, for he is Father to us all. That is why I am Daughter-Sea, for I am a child he loves as well."

It might be the most she has picked up all evening, talking of Him, He of the Sand and Sludge, Bound by Seaweed and Free of Form. Fathomless and Beautiful to all his children, in her words, it rushes. The sound of the ocean that echoes in the depths of each vowel and constant when she speaks with her polite voice.

"But I am sure you feel similar for you Spirit? Is it the one that gave you... your... mask?" Uh, what does she call that thing on his back?
Edited 2020-05-12 12:13 (UTC)
seaboard: (where sweat and dreams have dread)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-12 12:27 pm (UTC)(link)
She presses her lips together as she thinks, and tries to phrase it. "Well... perhaps it might be called different where you hail from? We call it The Great Pleading. It is the day the founder of our family, St. Loe himself, he was slated to die at the hand of cruel men, and he pleaded to be saved to any who would listen. Be it Earth, Wind, Water or Sky."

It is a story she knows by wrote. Told to her over and over again since she was a child.

"The Great Sea Spirit answered him and saved his life that day. That is how our people formed their bond with the spirit that protects us. I have heard similar tales from the other Great Pacts. From what I hear of the other lands, things that are similar happen."
towhatmatters: (→22)

[personal profile] towhatmatters 2020-05-12 04:35 pm (UTC)(link)
Somehow, that doesn't sound like the rhetorical question that it should be. She either thinks they're pretty, or she doesn't. What a strange woman. Who smells vaguely of ... salt? No. The sea. That's what it is.

Interesting.

"Believe that's up to you to decide."
kaballin: (Smug)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-12 07:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Well that's softly sweet, a sensation that Kabal can't process because no one has ever been soft, nor sweet, to him in his entire life. There's a half smirk on his face as he pulls the mask back on; finally he understands and doesn't feel like he's drunkenly trying to swim a river littered with alligators in the form of Len's verbal snares.

"Hm, think I can do that." As if he's not undressing Len with his eyes everytime he glances at him.

One of those shrimp obsessed douchebags comes in and Kabal grabs them by the back of the shirt, tossing them easily right into the shrimp platter they desperately wanted. Shellfish and cocktail sauce go everywhere as the table collapses, though by some miracle none on Kabal's fancy white outfit.

Without missing a beat he winds an arm around Len's waist to lead them somewhere with less appetizer obsessed idiots, "Want me to prove it?"
lelalacula: (confident +2.)

skye pyke ✪ sims 4 oc ✪ ota

[personal profile] lelalacula 2020-05-12 08:25 pm (UTC)(link)
✪ An Invitation
You want me to wear what?

[The voice is loud enough to carry outside the room, and a moment later the door bursts open and a person stumbles out, arms flailing as he scrambles back from the tailoring bots that burst straight out of the room after him.

The bots are brandishing a sparkly yellow suit, and the young man scrambling away from them is half-naked. In fact, his patchworked and artfully distressed jeans fall down to his knees as he smacks into the wall across from the door, and he twists his hands into the waistband to yank them up.]


Do I look like Diego Lobo or something? No way!

[Shoulders hunching, his head jerks back and forth as he looks down the hallway in both ways, pale blue eyes glowing slightly in the shadows, looking for some sort of intervention.]

Can someone please get these weird malfunctioning servos off me?! I'm not wearing that thing.
✪ Quite the Spread
[When Skye finally arrives at the party, he's decidedly not wearing the yellow monstrosity. He's wearing an entirely different kind of monstrosity, but at least it's his kind of monstrosity, so he's feeling a bit more confident as he strides into the area where the festivities are being held. Not that he particularly likes being out in the open, surrounded by strangers and completely unaware of what they might be talking about just out of earshot.

When he hands over his invitation to the impeccably tailored ticket-taking servo, he flinches back just a little, trying not to get too close, wary of another experience like the one with the yellow suit earlier. Then he flinches even more when his picture and name are broadcast across the sky for just anyone to see. Ugh, that's. Awful. Did these guys ever hear of the right to privacy?

Fortunately, nothing bad happens, and he makes it into the party only a little shaken up. Of course, he doesn't know anyone here, so for a few minutes he stands awkwardly in a corner staring at the food and the people and the servos for a while before making a decision.

Taking a breath and a step forward, hands moving gracefully through the air with a shower of sparks following them, and summons his familiar, a blue owl with purple sparks dripping from the tips of its wings. Skye doesn't really react much to it besides glancing back and smiling a bit, then squares his shoulders and takes another deep breath, more confident now that he has Owl watching his back.

Spotting someone who doesn't look particularly threatening (though really his judgement of that isn't the best, probably), he lifts a hand and waves.]


Dag dag!

[A beat.]

So the servos around here, they're really weird, right?
✪ The Network
username: nibfrabbit

Hi guys, if anyone can direct me to the gardening area or tell me where to find an easel, that'd be great. I'm in the MedBay if you want to stop by. They have the weirdest surgical equipment, just figuring it out here.
✪ Wildcard
Skye is a Sims 4 based original character who is a spellcaster, doctor, and gardener. He is also a big fan of weed, so please let me know if you want to opt out of anything regarding drug use. Hit me up by PM, or on plurk if you have me added ([plurk.com profile] caffemisto) or discord at coffee #6251 if you want to plot anything. Or just throw me a wildcard starter, I'm flexible.
kaballin: (I woke up for this)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-13 04:26 am (UTC)(link)
"Sure." That's not suspicious in any way to be at a party and not eat. Neither is the fact he's never seen Carlisle's face. But hey, he's a great boss who doesn't enforce the dress code.

"What's it gonna do? Burn me more?" That's exactly what it would do, and he knows it. In all honesty he's not a big fan of fire, but he's also not someone who has any fear. He's definitely not going to let some inanimate object (or force of nature) best him, so he'll light whatever he wants on fire. As a show of strength. Because that's how it works in his charred mind.

"And I'm gonna be honest and be surprised you even came to this. There's more than two people here you know."
kaballin: (Nah)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-13 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
"This is a person?" Well he's totally lost. Not that making small talk is something he's good at to begin with, but this is next level conversation and he's unprepared. He apparently started this on new game plus without noticing.

"Or are you talking about the actual ocean?" He gives a glance at her lower half which is well concealed by all those layers. "You're not secretly a mermaid are you?"

His spirit? The one who 'gave' him the mask is Kano and he'd like to skin him and maybe stuff his entrails in a car thats on fire and send it careening off a cliff into a lake. A little hard to do when he's here.
hypothermic: (pic#10289826)

[personal profile] hypothermic 2020-05-13 04:37 am (UTC)(link)
"Now that's cold."

If that ain't the most romantic thing he's ever seen. Len laughs, actually laughs, as the douchebag slips and slides in the cocktail sauce like one big, especially ugly shrimp.

"Now, I'm not one to kink-shame, but I'm starting to think you have a food fetish." Thank God/Satan/Alanis Morisette there's no tuna. The totaled buffet is nowhere near as messy or disgusting as their first meet-cute slash murder-attempt in the kitchen, that was too nasty for a repeat (even for Kabal), but there are enough similarities Len can't help but think back to when they first met. Is it too soon to be nostalgic?

He isn't expecting the arm around his waist, glancing sharply at Kabal before relaxing into it. Seeing someone else more humiliated and bewildered than either of them has done a lot to kill the tension, but there's something in the air.

New. Different. Dangerous. Like a good score. The kind that kills you or makes you stronger. The only drug of choice for any real career criminal worth his/her/their salt, because it's a special kind of high. Win or lose, the adrenaline is what makes the blood, sweat, and tears worth shedding, and legwork worth doing.

Len's waited a full year to hit a place. Call it crooked foreplay. He loves it.

"You can try." Len taps Kabal's masked jaw with two gloved fingers, looking up at him with a flutter of his eyelashes, and a smirk twisting the corner of his scarred lips, before playfully pushing his head away.

Talk about a dangerous, near impossible job. Kabal might be the ballsiest thug he's ever met.
abheirrant: (❧ he felt that (how unusual))

[personal profile] abheirrant 2020-05-13 04:53 am (UTC)(link)
Carlisle rolls his eyes, though whether it's because of the quip about fire — which, yes, will burn more — or his follow-up goes unsaid. He decides to address the latter:

"I decided it would be good for me to be among others. My constant solitude has done little to help my control over my energies."

It didn't help him in life, either — an entire lifespan spent isolated in his family's estate resulted in him accidentally destroying everything he'd ever known, including himself. He was doing better when he had people who called him a friend in Anchor, finding himself feeling more alive with each passing day, but as they disappear one by one, he's started sequestering himself away again, so sure the common thread of misfortune must be him.

However, being alone with himself and his endless thoughts just makes his solitude all the more unbearable, and so here he is, trying to pretend to be human once more. A futile hope, but one he found impossible to ignore as the party inched closer, his new outfit a solid temptation to lure him out. He's convinced that if he tries hard enough, he can feel the plush velvet of his coat's accents, the smooth gold that lines the buttons. It's a fantastic garment, one of a quality he wasn't sure he'd ever see in this place.

And in good news, he cleans up and wears it well, even if his face is hidden.
kaballin: (Gotta go fast)

[personal profile] kaballin 2020-05-13 05:00 am (UTC)(link)
"Me? I think it's you, keep trapping me near tables of food. Like you planned it or something." But there's a jaunty tone in his voice, leading them away from the shrimp-tastrophe he's created. That's someone else's problem now, exactly like the kitchen. He still has no idea who cleaned that up - and he's never going to ask and find out because he doesn't care. Not important. Some peon or do gooder or robot took it on themselves to clean up his mess. And if they hadn't? He wouldn't have cared about that either. Life was so much easier when everything became someone else's problem.

"You know... Everyone is here right? Which means there's probably some good shit left undefended." The residential area, generator rooms, the lab. Might be a good time to hit some of those places up, have a look around.

Kabal's been here for almost a year, but there's still plenty of places he hasn't investigated, both due to laziness and because he hasn't had the time. And while his thoughts are going more towards thievery and trashing the place, he gives Len a look making it clear that fucking him into the rubble is also in the cards.

Now that their little blow up has smoothed over, Kabal is back to being in a good mood, albiet far drunker than he'd intended. Fortunately he's pretty good at holding his liquor, years of experience aren't for nothing. But he's gonna be feeling this one in the morning.
mustact: (→41)

[personal profile] mustact 2020-05-13 07:43 am (UTC)(link)
While he doesn't have the frame of reference, as a whole, for cheesy romance in TV shows and books, he does know that it sounds a lot like the overblown stories of Faulkner, and sometimes the rest of the ship crew. That, along with the kiss to his hand, makes him laugh quietly, more breath than anything, and he shakes his head.

"What kind?"
circumspector: (xxv » damask and dark)

[personal profile] circumspector 2020-05-13 07:56 am (UTC)(link)
"The best kind." She says it matter of factly, that absolute way drunk people can be matter of fact - this is the best thing in the world, right now, nothing need be considered.

"One made out of flowers."
mustact: (→57)

[personal profile] mustact 2020-05-13 07:59 am (UTC)(link)
Dancing is pretty enjoyable to Ratonhnhaké:ton, and he has every intention of giving Angel one, but it doesn't surprise him that Charles is much less eager. People might consider him to be something of a loner, content to stay at the edges of celebrations and listen to others rather than participate himself, but when compared to Charles he might just be the life of the party.

Well. Maybe not that bad. And, even so, he's happy to find somewhere quiet and simply appreciate good company. He lowers his chin in agreement, and starts making his way over to the hookah table.

"Does Jacob want to dance?"
seaboard: (the crunching of your teeth)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-13 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
"The... actual ocean... ?" She is just as confused by his question as he was by what she said. "Oh, no, I am not a mermaid." She gives him a conspiratorial look like she is sharing a joke with him. "Though we often call each other cousins of land and water." The giggle is polite. She thinks she it is very clever.

"The Great Sea Spirit is our families... patron. If you would think of it like that. I could show you I suppose if you have not seen it before?" That would be alright, it is a good thing to show her bond, as it honours the family, and show her connection - which must always be upheld, of that there is no question.
nockturnal: (Default)

[personal profile] nockturnal 2020-05-13 12:54 pm (UTC)(link)
"Is that what it is for?" he remarks dryly, staring deadpan at his little brother as he takes another sip of sake. He does as he pleases, thank you very much.

"...is there a reason you did not do this before, then? If it makes you so happy." His brow furrows slightly as he looks around. It's a handful of people in a familiar place. There's no reason they couldn't have come together and drank as much as they pleased any time they wished to do so.

Of course, he knows little of what happens here on a general basis, so. Maybe don't listen to his advice, this once.
nockturnal: (pic#13782953)

[personal profile] nockturnal 2020-05-13 01:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah. Well. No harm in that.

He gives a polite little nod of his head. "Then I will not disturb you further," he assures her, before taking hold of one of the hoses. It seems a sweet, floral scent, like pear and jasmine, and after a moment he draws briefly with a bubbling in the glass base of the hookah.

Slowly, smoke creeps out from his nostrils, and a moment later a blue, serpentine snout pokes over his shoulder to observe the curling tendrils.
nockturnal: (pic#13784356)

[personal profile] nockturnal 2020-05-13 01:28 pm (UTC)(link)
"Is it my place to? It knows when I am speaking to it." He huffs, eyeing the little dragon coolly, but it either doesn't seem to notice or care. Instead it butts its head up against the wandering fingers with its snout, little whiskers tickling the tips.

Its reptilian eyes don't convey emotions well, but the way it seems to tilt into the touch says that it's enjoying itself well enough, and the man is not likely to be bitten if he continues with his attentions.
borntohurt: (pic#12912003)

[personal profile] borntohurt 2020-05-13 03:27 pm (UTC)(link)
She is, in fact, very sparkly. Like some elegant bauble or treasure, decked and jeweled to the tips of her horns. The effect is striking. But then, he's found her beautiful since he saw her in the woods on an alien wood, shining in the dark, just as she is.

Still, she appears to be enjoying the froofery, and he smiles gently and nods. "You look incredible," he replies, as though it should be obvious to anyone that of course she does, and the wolf gives a lick of approval to the underside of her chin.
circumspector: (( listening ) » I've lived my life)

[personal profile] circumspector 2020-05-13 03:53 pm (UTC)(link)
"Thank you. I feel like a lightbulb someone strung up. But I guess that can be fun too."

The dress was - to a point - ridiculous. Huge and unruly, and where was she even going to put it? "I don't think there is enough space in our Quad for me to put it afterward. Seriously, it's going to take up the entire floor at this rate - " and then she is licked, and she bursts into more laughter and light, pulsing brillaintly. "Maybe it can be a nest for our new roommates?" She doesn't consider grand things like this particularly precious - why would she, money was pointless to her. So was material wealth. Living proof that you couldn't take it with you, after all, but when you moved literal billions of dollars around with your mind - who cared about any of it?

And she fell on the wolf to scritch him all over, again. "Sorry, the makeup probably tastes gross to him." Her Murder Princess of a bird had certainly sulked about it, that was for sure.
lelalacula: (dazed +5.)

b. hey girl hey

[personal profile] lelalacula 2020-05-13 04:17 pm (UTC)(link)
[Of course he'd seen the hookahs, but after a few bad experiences while he was in university, he hadn't really been inclined to try them, especially when he has his own better stuff. But when a pretty blonde girl catches his attention and tells him it's not bad, he raises a brow and plops down heavily on the pillow next to her.]

Really? The stuff they put in the public hookahs at the festivals in San Myshuno is so rank. But if you say so...

[He gives her a little wink and reaches for one of the other mouthpieces, pulls it toward himself, and takes a long pull. Closing his eyes, he waits a moment for the effects to kick in, then shoots the girl a crooked grin.]

Well, it doesn't taste like a llama's ass at least. I'm Skye. What's your name?
Edited 2020-05-13 16:56 (UTC)
borntohurt: (pic#12911966)

[personal profile] borntohurt 2020-05-13 05:10 pm (UTC)(link)
"Does it? I don't know a lot about these things, but it looked alright." He smirks quietly, but more in self-deprecation than anything else. He doesn't see himself the way Jacob does, probably won't ever. Not after a lifetime of evidence to the contrary.

But if even he can find someone who looks at him the way Jacob does, he must be doing something right.

A little squeeze to his wrist and his steps become a little more sure, for a time. "Suits you, though. You could look like a real gentleman." That smirk shifts a little as he leans close to his ear in a warm murmur.

"If I didn't know better."
towhatmatters: (→18)

[personal profile] towhatmatters 2020-05-13 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Sure, but not from being shot.

"I said I get by," he says dryly, and downs another mouthful of whiskey. "Charles is probably better with the bow. With a gun? Might be even."

They haven't tested it. Never even crossed his mind.

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