Post by Soldier 76 on Aug 20, 2016 5:34:54 GMT
Ansell kept digging around, looking, looking for things. The keys, the knives, anything. George had a gun case, carbon fiber no display window he wasn't about to get into that. But he had to, he was going he was leaving. He had to go. They were going to turn on him, any moment. He sniffed around. Where did George keep his keys? On his key chain? The Key chain was with the other man though and he was in his car, and he wouldn't be back for a while. The Wildman made a noise of frustration, pulling uselessly at the pad lock that kept the case closed. He panted and took a deep breath, rage would only lead to mistakes, mistakes would lead to possible death.
The man moved to the kitchen, seeking out the drawer that seemed to just contain garbage, useless gadgets and misfit items. He sought through till he found some pliers. He dug some more, there a lighter. These would work. He had to work fast. How much fuel did the lighter have? Enough. He eased back into the den, igniting the flame and realizing he was missing something. Shit. He left the work and headed to the kitchen again putting ice in a hand towel. Again at the case he lit the flame under the metal, it looked like high grade aluminum, but it could be steel. He hoped it was steel, as it'd become brittle quicker.
He heated the metal till it was turning black, and then iced it quickly, doing this a few times he tested with the Pliers. Right almost. One more burn and icing, and he snapped the now brittle metal, slipping the lock off. Ansell was constantly aware, listening and looking. He threw the case open, George had 2 hunting rifles, a shotgun, a space for a side arm, some kind of 45 caliber pistol, and there....Ansell's rifle. He snatched the rifle, and examined the other guns. He quickly removed one of the rifle's scopes and attached it to his own. There, now he's have better luck with game. He looked around. No he needed to go. But he was caught standing there not leaving.
Where would he go? He was in America, he didn't know America. "Doesn't matter." Words aloud as he took a deep breath. It would be better if he was just out there alone, without anyone, it had been fine before. He'd survived the outback the American West would be easy. He went to leave only to be caught by the sound of the knob turning, George?? Was he already home.
"Ansell? I uhm, I got some paperwork for you...well more like work sheets I guess...if you're gonna become a citizen you need to go through this test. Or marry someone but honestly I don't think we have anyone for you to marry so," he called as he chuckled to himself. American laws were funny like that. He passed by the den, Ansell petrified there, a few steps back. How the hell had he gotten a hold of that? "Hey...what are you doing?" He pointed at the gun and raised a brow. Don't show fear, he had to come at this clear headed, even if his heartrate shot up.
"I...have. go," the wildman replied, not aiming the rifle at George, but seeming like he was considering it. "People....don't trust. Going to....turn. Can't stay." His eyes flicked wildly from George to the window. He could just go through it wasn't much of a drop they were on the first floor after all, it would be easy.
George cleared his throat as he started to walk into the room, slowly with hands out showing he wasn't holding anything threatening. Sure he had his pistol on him, he carried it everywhere, but it was buttoned in it's holster. "People? What people? You have trouble with people you can tell me I'll fix it," he said as he continued to draw closer. Wolff flinched, he shook his head.
"Alone. I ...leave....alone," he said as he let the rifle slowly drop down, holding it against his shoulder, he was half way to aiming it. He could shoot George if he had to, right? It would be easy. George was a big target in this rather small space, the naval man could be put down with a single shot. He aimed. But then what? "I need leave."
"Why's that? Seemed you were doing alright around here, people know your name, I trust you. Come on, now, there's no need to make something out of this; you're not going to shoot me," he said, because he knew something Ansell didn't. He just hoped the wildman wasn't really willing to pull the trigger. He got as close as he could. "Come on put that down, lets talk, you said you wanted to learn how to do that again."
More than anything. Talking was such a part of living, it was awful hearing people speak, understanding every word and having such limited means with which to reply. "No, talking. Move. George," he demanded. The big naval man did not move. He only took another step forward, hand on the rifle barrel. "Move...move, George..." Ansell rubbed his palm against his forehead. "Move...I...I have go." He made a frustrated noise, he sounded stupid. He just sounded stupid. So stupid.
The bigger man didn't say anything, just pushing the barrel down and grabbing hold of it to take it away. Ansell released his hold on the gun, he looked away. George was going to need a new lock for his case he supposed, something that couldn't be finessed like that. He put the weapon on the desk, and slowly wrapped the Australian up in his arms, easing him close.
Ansell made frustrated noises, as he hit his head with one of his metal arms. George stopped that by pulling it down and away. "Shh, it's okay, it's alright to get overwhelmed. Things maybe moved too quick, we can slow down, you can take a break," he said softly, petting the man's hair gently. Rehabilitation wasn't as he expected, but then he wasn't entirely sure what he expected when he let some crazy man into his house. "Don't bother me none. I know it's hard, even after 60 years it's still hard. People don't do what you expect them to."
The wildman shook a little, seemed like he might be crying. That frustrated, that pent up, needing all the instincts you'd developed from years in the wastelands unlearned. "Tired," he murmured after they'd stood there a while. "...Tired." George nodded and let the man go. He kept a hand on his shoulder, and motioned for him to take the lead. Ansell quickly left the den, escaping to the bedroom. George left him to decompress. The door closed he let out a breath.
Thank god that Rifle wasn't loaded, he wasn't sure he could take being shot in his own home. What the hell was he doing? Taking care of this madhouse reject. He sighed. "Really in deep this time George...you really done it," he said to himself as he walked out to the living room and falling on the couch. Maybe he'd go crazy in the process.
The man moved to the kitchen, seeking out the drawer that seemed to just contain garbage, useless gadgets and misfit items. He sought through till he found some pliers. He dug some more, there a lighter. These would work. He had to work fast. How much fuel did the lighter have? Enough. He eased back into the den, igniting the flame and realizing he was missing something. Shit. He left the work and headed to the kitchen again putting ice in a hand towel. Again at the case he lit the flame under the metal, it looked like high grade aluminum, but it could be steel. He hoped it was steel, as it'd become brittle quicker.
He heated the metal till it was turning black, and then iced it quickly, doing this a few times he tested with the Pliers. Right almost. One more burn and icing, and he snapped the now brittle metal, slipping the lock off. Ansell was constantly aware, listening and looking. He threw the case open, George had 2 hunting rifles, a shotgun, a space for a side arm, some kind of 45 caliber pistol, and there....Ansell's rifle. He snatched the rifle, and examined the other guns. He quickly removed one of the rifle's scopes and attached it to his own. There, now he's have better luck with game. He looked around. No he needed to go. But he was caught standing there not leaving.
Where would he go? He was in America, he didn't know America. "Doesn't matter." Words aloud as he took a deep breath. It would be better if he was just out there alone, without anyone, it had been fine before. He'd survived the outback the American West would be easy. He went to leave only to be caught by the sound of the knob turning, George?? Was he already home.
"Ansell? I uhm, I got some paperwork for you...well more like work sheets I guess...if you're gonna become a citizen you need to go through this test. Or marry someone but honestly I don't think we have anyone for you to marry so," he called as he chuckled to himself. American laws were funny like that. He passed by the den, Ansell petrified there, a few steps back. How the hell had he gotten a hold of that? "Hey...what are you doing?" He pointed at the gun and raised a brow. Don't show fear, he had to come at this clear headed, even if his heartrate shot up.
"I...have. go," the wildman replied, not aiming the rifle at George, but seeming like he was considering it. "People....don't trust. Going to....turn. Can't stay." His eyes flicked wildly from George to the window. He could just go through it wasn't much of a drop they were on the first floor after all, it would be easy.
George cleared his throat as he started to walk into the room, slowly with hands out showing he wasn't holding anything threatening. Sure he had his pistol on him, he carried it everywhere, but it was buttoned in it's holster. "People? What people? You have trouble with people you can tell me I'll fix it," he said as he continued to draw closer. Wolff flinched, he shook his head.
"Alone. I ...leave....alone," he said as he let the rifle slowly drop down, holding it against his shoulder, he was half way to aiming it. He could shoot George if he had to, right? It would be easy. George was a big target in this rather small space, the naval man could be put down with a single shot. He aimed. But then what? "I need leave."
"Why's that? Seemed you were doing alright around here, people know your name, I trust you. Come on, now, there's no need to make something out of this; you're not going to shoot me," he said, because he knew something Ansell didn't. He just hoped the wildman wasn't really willing to pull the trigger. He got as close as he could. "Come on put that down, lets talk, you said you wanted to learn how to do that again."
More than anything. Talking was such a part of living, it was awful hearing people speak, understanding every word and having such limited means with which to reply. "No, talking. Move. George," he demanded. The big naval man did not move. He only took another step forward, hand on the rifle barrel. "Move...move, George..." Ansell rubbed his palm against his forehead. "Move...I...I have go." He made a frustrated noise, he sounded stupid. He just sounded stupid. So stupid.
The bigger man didn't say anything, just pushing the barrel down and grabbing hold of it to take it away. Ansell released his hold on the gun, he looked away. George was going to need a new lock for his case he supposed, something that couldn't be finessed like that. He put the weapon on the desk, and slowly wrapped the Australian up in his arms, easing him close.
Ansell made frustrated noises, as he hit his head with one of his metal arms. George stopped that by pulling it down and away. "Shh, it's okay, it's alright to get overwhelmed. Things maybe moved too quick, we can slow down, you can take a break," he said softly, petting the man's hair gently. Rehabilitation wasn't as he expected, but then he wasn't entirely sure what he expected when he let some crazy man into his house. "Don't bother me none. I know it's hard, even after 60 years it's still hard. People don't do what you expect them to."
The wildman shook a little, seemed like he might be crying. That frustrated, that pent up, needing all the instincts you'd developed from years in the wastelands unlearned. "Tired," he murmured after they'd stood there a while. "...Tired." George nodded and let the man go. He kept a hand on his shoulder, and motioned for him to take the lead. Ansell quickly left the den, escaping to the bedroom. George left him to decompress. The door closed he let out a breath.
Thank god that Rifle wasn't loaded, he wasn't sure he could take being shot in his own home. What the hell was he doing? Taking care of this madhouse reject. He sighed. "Really in deep this time George...you really done it," he said to himself as he walked out to the living room and falling on the couch. Maybe he'd go crazy in the process.
