this didn't go as well as Eastwood's escape

[longlived]

A back alley in London. Body parts fall to the streets. Two hands. The forearms. Feet, legs, a hollowed torso in several pieces, internal organs. A human head. Each of the parts is light enough that a falcon could conceivably transport it from one place to another in its claws, and the blood is all clinging. Altogether, these parts would make a full human being--short one eye.

Huey has only done this once before, so it takes some time before his body reassembles. Like cells of an organism, like a well-coordinated swarm of ants, his flesh and bones and organs pull themselves back together, joints locking in and blood flowing once more. He is now as whole in body as he was that day he was made immortal, minus an eye and a ponytail. Huey Laforet looks around him, and in a calm, quiet voice, calls for his youngest daughter.

"Leeza? ...Hilton?"

But there is no answer, and the streets beyond don't sound like 1930s Chicago. Nor did this place seem to have any connection to Alcatraz. So. Something didn't go to plan. (Again.)

"Ah."

But at least he has the clothes he had asked the Poet to fetch. He may as well dress and go looking for answers. He places a hand over his empty eye socket and wishes Renee the best.

[blah blah spam or prose, I don't care which, apologies for his lack of social, you know the drill]

Comments

[intellectualrapist]

After an earlier rain shower, Erika decided the weather was perfect for wandering. Any stray cat adores a hunt with the smell of fresh rain still lingering. She skips over puddles and enjoys her casual walk, going deeper into London's twisting labyrinth of alleys, until she notices, some few streets away, what appears to be body parts gathered. A murder? Oh, if only. She can hope.

Though, by the time she's made her way over there - it is important to secure the area first after all - she finds not parts but a whole. And that whole is a person. Erika pauses and tilts her head.

"Hello there?"

[longlived]

"Hello." In those two syllables, there are the lingering traces of a French accent, curling his vowels. He smiles, but it's a faint smile, doll-like, inhuman.

He still is not wearing clothes. The accent explains his lack of concern.

[intellectualrapist]

"...Ah." Well, it isn't as though nudity is a strange and foreign concept to her but decency is still rather important. But it doesn't matter enough beyond a single comment. "I wouldn't recommend walking around like that."

Before she continues, folding her arms. "Now, more importantly, that was an impressive trick you did."

[longlived]

He assesses her like--well, like she isn't human. Like data. Raw material. A potential subject. He decides that obfuscation or deception would be pointless. "Thank you," and it's with that same, faint, mechanical smile.

"Pardon me," he says, as he begins to clothe himself.

[intellectualrapist]

"Of course." With a shrug, Erika turns her back on him. Let him dress in privacy. In her mind, she rewinds back over the moment he spared to look over her. Analysing her, too? Not too weird.

"Furudo Erika." May as well introduce herself. There's no reason not to when she's going to be scratching under the stranger's surface just as well. "Erika will be fine."

[longlived]

There is a moment's hesitation, covered by the ruffle of clothes. He is deciding whether or not to use a fake name, to test if she is immortal--but from the naked curiosity, he would suppose she is not. Still, he cannot take untested matters for granted, not here with no sign of Sham or Hilton, and it would be foolish to be caught off guard. "My name is Ronnie Schiatto--ah. I see. Please forgive me that lie. It is something of a habit. I am Huey Laforet."

[intellectualrapist]

Commonly uses an alias. Lifestyle requires it, then? Makes sense. If he can do something like that, he probably isn't human. So what is he? Close enough to human but plenty of things are. Ah, well. She'll find out.

"Huey? It's nice to meet you." She giggles, tilting her head back to look at the sky. "So what sort of world are you from? I'm from Japan, 1986. Ah, don't worry, time and place difference is common here, so it isn't strange information."

[alethiological]

Back alleys in London, or back alleys in general, tend to be the havens for all kinds of horrible things. Monsters, homeless kids, body parts-- well. Not body parts, those are somewhat odd. Body parts tend to get people immediately walking out of a side door to get scared and running to the cops on account of it being a pile of body parts.

However, there are always exceptions. Such as right now, when the person immediately walking out of a side door stares for a beat. Two. Then turning around and slamming the door, through which a faint argument can be heard. Who forgot one?! Not me! Don't look at me, I'm still working on the last one! The simple debates of pointing fingers and denying of responsibility of a mess to your teacher, before they give up and clean it themselves.

The second time Will walks out, the body parts have reformed into a human being. Missing an eye. No more body parts, or blood stains, or anything showing it's anything more than some random person standing in an alley. Another stare, for a longer moment, before the apathy breaks and he goes to rubbing his eyes in annoyance.

"Starting to see things..." Hallucinating dismembered humans reforming into non-dismembered humans. Maybe Lion's right about that 'sleep more' thing. ...Nah.

[longlived]

Hallucinations? He himself would question if he is experiencing one, but the intricacy would require technique well beyond even Nebula's capacity. Of those Huey knows to live, perhaps only the demon is capable of such things. And it does not have the edge of dreams. So it is most likely real.

He needs to get a sense of what has happened.

(He needs to rescue Frank and steal Renee's eye. Perhaps Christopher and Sickle can manage it, but he had wanted to be sure of this, and neither knows his intentions for Renee's eye. The passing of the opportunity irritates him, but he will have another chance eventually. Perhaps even in less than a century. Ah, it is a shame the new immortals are all so closely tied to Maiza and the demon. It is too difficult to use them with that pair in the way. And Isaac, or that counterpart of his--no. Huey does not think he wants to make an experiment of them. So he will catch Renee again.)

All that is a side-thought. For the material before him, he only says, "My apologies if you were startled." His voice is calm, dispassionate. (French.) The faint smile is an expression of politeness and nothing more.

[alethiological]

Accent. French? Not just hallucinating people. Hallucinating French people. After that stint in the late 18th century? No. Never again.

So there's no response to his statement in a calm, dispassionate (French-accented) tone with matching smile of blank politeness. Nothing except closing the distance in two strides and flicking him directly between the eyes. Hard. But there's an impact and resistance. Okay, not hallucinating French people. It's just... a random French person. Slightly better.

Then the tall possibly-in-denial-American closes his eyes and sighs once, shoving his hands in his coat pockets and then the speech changes completely. Actually French - and not just knowing French, it's fluent with the proper accent - and the switch is instantaneous. "Don't worry about it. Long day."

[longlived]

Huey doesn't step back (it's a left hand) but the flick is a surprise. Confirmation? That's fine. Nothing is unworthy of testing. Huey hasn't spoken French in some time--he even uses English with his homunculi--but he falls back into the language of his mother, the rural accent never schooled out of him in his time in Lotto Valentino or the following centuries. "Thank you." Mechanical (doll-like) thanks. He doesn't mean for the flick.

How utterly laconic. There's something in the presence. Not an immortal. Far from a demon.

He doesn't ask Will a question, not out of disregard for Will. Rather, it's like a philosopher caught in thought, saying the words for himself rather than others. "What would the opposite of a demon have to do with dismembered bodies? No... Perhaps that isn't altogether surprising." The clothes are the eighteen hundreds. Literature is already being transformed. But that doesn't change the truth Huey knew from before, when they came to drown his mother. (Even at that thought, there isn't any flicker of emotion behind his eyes. He can recount his life's greatest pains like he is reading from a textbook. But he is better than Elmer. He doesn't smile as he says it.) His thoughts surface in his words again. "So corpses aren't surprising."

Also, Will is there. But Huey never stopped looking at Will--even seeing him. It is just that he is accustomed to speaking this way.

[alethiological]

The first part earns the faintest 'mn' noise, expression flattening out somewhat. Silent for the rest of it. The type that gets lost in thought trains, related or not, only speaking parts of them when deemed relevant. Current conversation and confusion of the other party be damned.

Sounds familiar.

That type of personality means going straight to the point is the most effective means. Say upfront to keep the angel thing quiet? Not worth it. He'd decide whether or not to tell anyone. So, take the better route.

"Never seen a corpse put themselves back together again."

Not surprising. But curious. And whether it's something to keep quiet about or not. If so, then he'd extend the same gratitude. Fair's fair in the analytical mind.

[longlived]

"Ah." An utterly uninformative response. It's, Ah, so you don't know of us. That's fine. "Are you in fact an angel?" It's a street. People could hear. But people could also see. If this man was so obsessive about it, he could kill any potential eavesdroppers. If his power was even a fraction of Ronnie's, it wouldn't be any effort to even kill Huey to keep silence. So it isn't really a problem.

[forbioethics]

[A young woman, spacey and wobbling as she walks, happens upon this scene. What is her reaction?]

[Pure joy.] Y-You there! Excuse me! Are you a human being? Are you immortal? Is that a condition you were born with or part of an experiment?

[longlived]

[Oh, a crazy person. Huey wears his faint, pleasant smile.] Are those aspects each mutually exclusive? [Look Fran, he put on his game face for you, be proud.]

[Also he put on pants! They are white. Hell if I know why, but Huey loves wearing white.]

[forbioethics]

[Like she cares if he's naked. She rushes forward, still teetering, and clasps her hands together.] Of course not! But I would hate to classify you so early on. I don't have my lab here but could you describe your physiology?

[longlived]

[His smile is indulgent.] My body is human. My cells act constantly to maintain the state of being I was in at the moment I achieved immortality.

[forbioethics]

Immortality?! The number of times I've encountered that can be counted on one hand. [Speaking of hands! My, she's been rude! She sticks out her hand.] Fran Madaraki. I hope you don't mind my excitement or my skepticism. The immortals I've seen were not 'true' immortals.

[longlived]

[She's obviously more homunculus than immortal, so Huey doesn't give a fake name when he shakes her hand.] I am Huey Laforet. In what respect were the immortals you encountered incomplete?

[aloofness]

Hey, how did you just do that?

[longlived]

[Huey assesses her. Perfectly ordinary raw material. Probably an innocent bystander more than a potential specimen. He has a smile, faint, like that of a doll.] Pardon me?

[aloofness]

That thing. Where you were all in pieces. And then you weren't.

[longlived]

[Though killing her would be the most simple solution, she is an innocent. So Huey dismisses the possibility. His smile transforms into something more congenial.] That sort of truth is a closely guarded secret. [His eyes drift a little way from her--as if he isn't talking to her at all and is just giving voice to his own thoughts.] Perhaps to preserve freedom. That would hold implication for the new educational movements.

[aloofness]

Wow. You somehow made something that seemed like it might kind of be cool seem really, really lame.

[longlived]

Did I? That's a shame. [That same smile, and then he dismisses the raw material and walks from the alleyway.]