[ It's the sort of hypothetical he's encountered before from others dubious at his insistence on not using weapons. So, he's more than prepared. ]
Some creatures act quickly on base instinct, I'll grant you. We might have seconds only to spare, no time at all for negotiations. If it's eating people, that's where I come in. Naturally, I put myself in front of it with the spoon fully extended.
Starlight or sunlight would reflect off the spoon's surface, generally enough to distract anything at least momentarily. If it's operating at a higher intelligence, it buys me time to talk to it, see if I could reason with it. If nothing else, time enough for anyone around to start running away. I'd run, too, but in the opposite direction, leading the creature with me out as far as we could go. You might say, why would it follow me, well, why not, I'll be the loudest one around! It'll follow just to shut me up.
[ In all of this, it's quite clear he has no fear for himself. He'd only care for the well-being of everyone else around him. ]
A long distance from everyone else, now it's just me and the sandskid, more time to tame it, neutralize it, learn more about it. Every creature has a weakness, a vulnerability. Maybe it's got terrible vision, can't hear, only attracted to movement and vibrations. I can work out how it functions and why it's chosen to eat people suddenly. But if there are no other alternatives, if its true food source hasn't suddenly disappeared and if it absolutely just wants to eat people, then I dig a trap for it in the sand with my spoon, play a song for it against the rocks and lull it to a sleep there's no waking from.
[ Last resort. Always. But beneath the whimsy, the optimistic veneer, the cheerfulness and the hope he clings to, lurks a dangerous man, a darkness very carefully held back for the sake of the universe. ]
no subject
Some creatures act quickly on base instinct, I'll grant you. We might have seconds only to spare, no time at all for negotiations. If it's eating people, that's where I come in. Naturally, I put myself in front of it with the spoon fully extended.
Starlight or sunlight would reflect off the spoon's surface, generally enough to distract anything at least momentarily. If it's operating at a higher intelligence, it buys me time to talk to it, see if I could reason with it. If nothing else, time enough for anyone around to start running away. I'd run, too, but in the opposite direction, leading the creature with me out as far as we could go. You might say, why would it follow me, well, why not, I'll be the loudest one around! It'll follow just to shut me up.
[ In all of this, it's quite clear he has no fear for himself. He'd only care for the well-being of everyone else around him. ]
A long distance from everyone else, now it's just me and the sandskid, more time to tame it, neutralize it, learn more about it. Every creature has a weakness, a vulnerability. Maybe it's got terrible vision, can't hear, only attracted to movement and vibrations. I can work out how it functions and why it's chosen to eat people suddenly. But if there are no other alternatives, if its true food source hasn't suddenly disappeared and if it absolutely just wants to eat people, then I dig a trap for it in the sand with my spoon, play a song for it against the rocks and lull it to a sleep there's no waking from.
[ Last resort. Always. But beneath the whimsy, the optimistic veneer, the cheerfulness and the hope he clings to, lurks a dangerous man, a darkness very carefully held back for the sake of the universe. ]