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[Private to Dylan | Audio]*

[Sent as soon as he returns, though he's not sure when Dylan will get it or what the range of the communicators is.]

I've returned. The Southern City didn't have many resources. The construction of the dome damaged its economy. I suspect most of the fishermen left are generational. The people there were notably friendlier to outsiders than the ones here, but of course their homes are at less risk from air raids from the domes.

[And sent a bit later.]

If you hear reports of fog, stay way until it's cleared. Or purchase the first gas mask you can manage.

[Private to Sma | Audio]

I want to speak with you. In person. [Where the conversation can't be recorded.]

*OOC: Slightly backdated to fog times.

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And what's that supposed to mean? [To the first part, anyway. Though it means just what Rhade meant. He still has an excuse to swipe at Dylan with a filthy hand.]

It means...whatever you think it means.

[His uniform is already pretty filthy from his trip, but the swipe cannot be ignored. He elbows back.]

Not that I blame you.

I think it means you're in a survivalist situation and the best part is everyone is just a little bit nicer looking. [He finds a larger piece of bark and offers it as a shovel, because they are the saddest two wilderness guys right now.]

[Dylan takes the bark and gives Gaheris an expression of "What the hell are you talking about" while he's at it.]

I didn't think dirt and limited changes of clothing usually made a person more attractive.

The situation makes you more apt to notice what is attractive about them, though. Your instincts say that you should breed to save your species, your body complies, you take notice.

[He raises a finger.] That's not to say that they're not attractive anyway. But it does mean that of all the misfortunes of the situation, we are fortunate enough to notice.

I kinda think I would have noticed anyway. [Have you seen these ladies, Gaheris? They are smokin!]

I don't need Darwinian survival of the species instincts to make me want to... [How to put this delicately] ...be intimate with a beautiful woman.

[He almost feels like he's being provoked with that second line, and he actually boggles a little bit at it.] You wouldn't even notice she was beautiful if there wasn't the human desire for procreation. Are you doing this on purpose?

[This is probably the most agreeable form of Nietzschean paranoia. It's not even hazardous. Just a little strange.]

That's not what I mean. I know that sex drives exist for procreation but...

[He almost rubs his hands over his face and remembers at the last second that his hands are covered in dirt and drops them again.]

I mean that you don't have to reduce everything to biology and survival. It takes some of the mystique out of it.

[He snorts at Dylan almost wiping his face with his hands, and makes a nice little wood pile.]

I don't require mystique to use my penis. I'm perfectly content in knowing why I want to.

[Dylan wipes his hands on his trouser legs, just in case that happens again and he doesn't catch himself next time.]

Okay then. [And now they're talking about their penises. How do these conversations happen?]

I kind of like a little romance to go with my...uh...penis using.

I'm romantic. I told you that we have love.

[He finally settles into a position where he's decently comfortable, and can light the fire with his force lance.]

I just don't think any of them are particularly interested in romance given the circumstances, and we would be lucky if they're interested in anything else. [He thinks for a moment.]

I think we're more likely candidates than Hudson.

Edited 2012-04-04 06:55 (UTC)

None of them strike me as the roses and candle-lit dinners type even if we weren't on a war-torn planet. But a little conversation beyond "hey, let's your genes and my genes get together" would be nice.

I think a lot of people are more likely candidates than Hudson. [Hudson's way with women seems about on par with Harper's.]

[He would be astounded to see that.] I could explain that too, but I'm sure you wouldn't want me to spoil the ending.

[But... now that he thinks about it, this is the first time he's had a conversation like this with Dylan without Sarah coming up. He supposes that he has to ask. It would be better than saying something out of ignorance later.]

What happened to your fiancee?

[His cheer vanishes at the mention of Sarah.]

Sarah's gone. [He doesn't really want to talk about it, but he knows that "gone" isn't much of an explanation.]

She survived the war, though. Got married, had kids. Just not with me.

[He hmphs a little thoughtfully, contemplating some negative space between tree branches.]

I'll do my best to correct that. Duplicate or not. [He can still make that promise.

It's better than living here with Dylan hating him. He'd wish that he were more like a Nietzschean and capable of watching for this behavior and still care for someone just as much, but he'd not be Dylan then.]

Then maybe some Dylan in that other reality will have a chance to have a different life. [He appreciates the sentiment and Gaheris' apparent desire to make amends, but it doesn't make Sarah any less lost to him.]

[He picks up a small black rock- something almost the size of a go stone that he can turn between his fingers.] Let's reach a consensus then. A wise man once said that love was like the sun. Without its light, there would be no life. Which I believe is true, whether or not you're capable of explaining where that light comes from, or if you would rather just enjoy its warmth.

[Dylan smiles albeit a bit sadly.]

I think I can agree to that.

And if you believe in the concept, the same man said that friendship is one soul inhabiting two bodies.

Ours just happens to be stubborn [he'll admit to that], romantic, [he'll admit to that, too], and accepting challenges for what they are.

[See, he is a romantic.]

And attractive women.

[Sometimes.]

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