Post by Katsuragi Panda on May 25, 2011 21:08:51 GMT -5
As he looked into the dim little room in which he now found himself Emil noticed something glaring in the light from the open door behind him. As his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting he saw that he had the misfortune of being targeted by the firearms of several people in the darkness. Luckily most seemed to realize that pointing weapons at him was quite a rude way to greet a guest and lowered their guns. Unfortunately, one of the people disagreed. This one stepped forward.
“Lower your weapon,” commanded a surprisingly female voice. The woman tilted her head at him before bringing her weapon level with his head. Confused, Emil cocked his head, mirroring the woman.
"Who are you?” he asked. “What’s your name? Are you going to shoot me? That isn’t very polite you know, to invite someone in only to shoot them in the head. Absolutely horrendous manners for a host. Are you the host here?”
"We have another...survivor. We don't have much more time to barricade until the horde north of us gets here." The woman had completely ignored him. Acting dejected, he dropped the one knife he had unsheathed, the one that had nearly stabbed him earlier, on the floor. The woman’s radio crackled to life as a familiar voice filled the air.
“Wait for as long as you can, then take him up from the loading bay to quarantine.” He recognized the voice as the one on the radio broadcast. How had it known he was male? He turned to the right and noticed for the first time another person watching cameras. That was probably how the voice knew about him. Emil began to feel slightly indignant. He couldn’t tell the voice’s gender, so it wasn’t fair that it got to know his, not fair at all. Slightly less troubling was the mention of a nearby horde, most likely of dead, which had just now registered in Emil's mind.
He looked back to the woman with the radio who had yet to lower her weapon from its place aiming at his skull.
“So, you aren’t the host then. That voice is? Even if you’re only a doorman, or woman in this case I suppose, this still isn’t the way to treat a guest. Why, not one of you has offered to take my coat, and I’ve yet to be offered a single refreshment.” He was still being ignored. He remembered from his short-lived career in the diner that the hosting party was responsible for showing the guests hospitality. These people weren’t very good at that he noted sadly.
“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” he offered in an attempt to incite conversation with the woman. “My name is Emil Faust. I heard a broadcast and decided to come here for lack of any better options. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He began a sweeping bow to the woman which was left unfinished as he leaned too far forward and fell onto his face. The woman and others behind her had apparently had enough of his antics. Two of the oddly garbed people silently hoisted a slightly dazed Emil off of the floor, carrying him deeper into the darkness.
“Lower your weapon,” commanded a surprisingly female voice. The woman tilted her head at him before bringing her weapon level with his head. Confused, Emil cocked his head, mirroring the woman.
"Who are you?” he asked. “What’s your name? Are you going to shoot me? That isn’t very polite you know, to invite someone in only to shoot them in the head. Absolutely horrendous manners for a host. Are you the host here?”
"We have another...survivor. We don't have much more time to barricade until the horde north of us gets here." The woman had completely ignored him. Acting dejected, he dropped the one knife he had unsheathed, the one that had nearly stabbed him earlier, on the floor. The woman’s radio crackled to life as a familiar voice filled the air.
“Wait for as long as you can, then take him up from the loading bay to quarantine.” He recognized the voice as the one on the radio broadcast. How had it known he was male? He turned to the right and noticed for the first time another person watching cameras. That was probably how the voice knew about him. Emil began to feel slightly indignant. He couldn’t tell the voice’s gender, so it wasn’t fair that it got to know his, not fair at all. Slightly less troubling was the mention of a nearby horde, most likely of dead, which had just now registered in Emil's mind.
He looked back to the woman with the radio who had yet to lower her weapon from its place aiming at his skull.
“So, you aren’t the host then. That voice is? Even if you’re only a doorman, or woman in this case I suppose, this still isn’t the way to treat a guest. Why, not one of you has offered to take my coat, and I’ve yet to be offered a single refreshment.” He was still being ignored. He remembered from his short-lived career in the diner that the hosting party was responsible for showing the guests hospitality. These people weren’t very good at that he noted sadly.
“Maybe we got off on the wrong foot,” he offered in an attempt to incite conversation with the woman. “My name is Emil Faust. I heard a broadcast and decided to come here for lack of any better options. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He began a sweeping bow to the woman which was left unfinished as he leaned too far forward and fell onto his face. The woman and others behind her had apparently had enough of his antics. Two of the oddly garbed people silently hoisted a slightly dazed Emil off of the floor, carrying him deeper into the darkness.