[semi-open] june log;

[hardcase]

WHO: Randall Flagg & You
WHAT: Reconnecting with his followers, bonding with cellmates, jailbird life
WHERE: The dungeons
WHEN: Pre-event and probably all of June

[ closed to lloyd and nadine ]

[ His connection with Nadine is broken, so he can't call her down whenever he wants her. Lloyd, too, is out of his reach. He can do nothing but wait for his bride and his right-hand man to choose to pay him a visit of their own free will.

It's a sort of powerlessness he isn't accustomed to, and isn't fond of. When they come down to the dungeons he perks right up, a big smile on his face. ]

There you are. I was missing you, you know that? My heart's a-longing for you both.

[ Hey, he's in no position not to schmooze right now. If this kind of attentions keeps them coming back, he'll provide it. ]

[ closed to cellmates ]

[ He's got pretty good cellmates, all things considered. None of them have seen him for the vile creature he is yet, none of them are looking to pick a fight with him and play King of the Cell, and sometimes they're even good conversational partners. So, it's only sensible to keep them on his side.

As soon as Nadine and Lloyd leave, he takes the food they've snuck him (mostly fruits and pastries, with a few pieces of chicken) and divides it evenly by four, keeping one portion for himself and giving the rest to his cellmates. ]

That should tide us over for a while.

[ Yes, he could take it all, but that might start a fight and he doubts it would endear him to the others if he stayed in the corner eating his spoils and snapping at anyone who came close to him like some kind of hungry animal. ]

[ cells - open to visitors ]

[ When he's not chatting up his cellmates, Flagg spends most of his time leaning up against the bars, peering at the visitors that come down. He doesn't speak to them unless they stop, he'll just sit there humming something (usually his own rendition of Jailhouse Rock) and eagerly make eye contact whenever he can.

It makes him feel like he's trying to be the most interesting animal at the zoo, hoping that the next tourist will stop in front of his cage and feed him from an overpriced bag of peanuts instead of moving on to the next exhibit.

Luckily, he's not too bothered by dehumanizing experiences. He hasn't been human an over a thousand years at least, so this is all 'been there, done that'.

If someone stops in front of his cell, he'll give them a big smile. ] Howdy.

[ rec yard - open to other prisoners ]

[ Flagg makes sure to check up on anyone he's spoken with here when they get sent to the yard. Though not as valuable as his cellmates, it's still to his benefit that more of them are with him than against him. Eddie Dean's a lost cause, so with him Flagg keeps his distance aside from shooting him a fierce grin every now and then.

With everyone else, though, he'll approach, maybe touch them on the shoulder if he feels like they're close enough for that, and say: ] How're ya holding up?

Comments

[gardienne]

[Whilst his visitors were there, Eponine had sat as far away as possible in their little cell, all huddled together with her knees drawn up and her face firmly buried in them. She tells herself that she doesn’t want to know, if she can’t see the treats that Flagg is getting, she can’t want them. It doesn’t work: she sneaks peaks over, and her mouth waters. How long has it been since she’s tried proper chicken?
She doesn’t move when the visitors go. Watching him enjoy his spoils would be even worse than watching him get them. It doesn’t occur to her that he might share. Why would he? But he does anyway, and she lifts her head, eyeing both him and the food warily.]

Is it a trick, M’sieur? I know you ain’t a unkind man usually, but food does funny things to people. Please though, do not tease me with such stuffs if you will snatch it back. My stomach can’t stand it, Sir.

[hardcase]

I wouldn't dream of it. It's all yours, hon.

[ He steps back and starts gnawing at his own chicken drumstick, looking up a little to avoid staring at the food he's given everyone else. ]

It benefits all of us to survive together.

[gardienne]

Really?

[It has been a long time since anyone has given Eponine anything without expecting something from her as well. She eyes Flagg with suspicion as she moves, almost animal-like, to her share of the food. She snatches it up and pockets what she can, hiding it about her person. The chicken though - she can't help herself. She raises a piece to her face and just inhales it's scent before she starts to nibble on it.]

D'you know how long it's been since I had a piece of chicken, Sir? I cannot even remember how it tastes proper. Your friends are lovely, you know, to remember you.

[hardcase]

One of them is my wife. I know she's missing me.

[ But he's glad that both Nadine and Lloyd are outside anyway. He needs allies up in the castle. ]

When we escape, we'll feast like kings, I promise. [ A lofty promise, but one he feels comfortable making. If they never escape...well, he's got bigger problems than a lack of food in that case. ]

[gardienne]

Your wife? How is it you are locked up when she is free? Did she give you up to stay out?

[She snorts. It's not laughter, exactly, nor sympathy, but more an acknowledgement that she's been through that and that it's a horrid feeling. But she also understands why Montparnasse did it. If he was arrested, he'd die. If it was her, she'd be let out soon enough.]

At least she remembers you. When 'Parnasse had me put away, there weren't no one to visit. Then, he didn't give me chicken even when we were both free.

[She shrugs, and finishes her piece in silence. Once the meat's gone, she licks her fingers, her hand, sucks her digits until absolutely every last trace of the chicken is gone. She smiles, and leans back against a bed leg.]

Tell me then. How are we to escape?

[She leans in, glancing at the cell door to see if they are being listened to. She can't see anyone, so she hoarsely whispers,]

Tell me your plan and I'll tell you mine. We might make 'em work together if we try.

[hardcase]

No, no. She'd never give me up. [ Because she loved him, but also because he wasn't the forgiving type and she knew it. ]

I'm not entirely sure yet. I have my wife and right-hand man trying to figure some way out, but if they can't...

[ He can think of a few options: bribe one of the guards or otherwise promise them something he has no intention to deliver on, convince someone else to break him out, or use some good old fashioned violence. ] It may get bloody. Justice often is. Are you prepared for that?

[gardienne]

Then you're lucky Sir. My family, pah. [She spits hard on the dirt floor.] My Ma and Pa'd lead the police to me if they thought it'd improve their chances, and 'Zelma is too stupid to lie, and 'Parnasse? He pushed me to Javert's clutches himself. You're lucky, I think.

[She listens, contemplating what he means.]

You mean, a fight? Sir, I am quick with my fingers, and I know how to hold a knife and that. I've never done it, but I have watched murders, you know? I don't think I'd like it... but I don't want to stay here forever either.

[hardcase]

There's always time to find a new family. I was orphaned when I was thirteen, and I didn't have any siblings with me, neither. [ He orphaned himself, really, by burning the mill his family had owned for generations to the ground. Truthfully, he didn't know if his parents perished in the fire, but he never went back to check. ]

But I've been lucky enough to find my wife, and a few people I'd consider family although they aren't related to me by blood. [ He just shrugs at the last part. ] Most people don't like it, but it's good that you're willing.

[gardienne]

Really, Sir? I wish I had been orphaned sometimes. My brother, he orphaned himself, just went away from my folk and refused to come back to 'em. It ain't so easy with 'Zelma. If I ran, she'd have no one to stand up for her and god knows what my Pa'd have her do. Me, at least I will yell back to him, and take his belt, and for her besides.

[She shakes her head, dismissing her tiresome little sister and her unpleasant home life from her immediate conversation.]

Have you killed someone, Sir? I don't care if you have. 'Parnasse - my Pa calls him as my husband, you know? - but so, Montparnasse, he is a cut throat. So I don't care if I share a cell with a murderer.