You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.

The cancer I don’t have is everywhere now

❝People are blinded cattle following a system they don’t understand, but lookin’ at you, I don’t think you’re one of ‘em.❞ A smile, Tyler taps the cigarette to rid it off the ashes, before taking a drag; ❝Rather reassuring to see that some people don’t have their eyes covered by useless media and corporate brands, bogged down in worries over bills and getting the latest technology. Buying things they don’t need with the money they don’t have. Hell, I don’t even think you’d need the club. You’re not boring, not repressed like the others are. You’re not a copy of a copy of a copy. I don’t even need to talk to you.❞ He leaned forwards slightly, and gave him a smile, ❝But I am anyway. Unless you walk away and make me look like an idiot.❞ He shrugged, and leaned back again, ❝Wouldn’t be the first time. But the best thing about being free, is not having the responsibility to be somewhere, not caring whether you get into trouble or not. So if you walk away now, at least I know that you’re a douche-bag.❞

At least he’ll know you’re a douche-bag? What the hell? Who the hell is this guy and why is he suddenly spouting philosophical shit at you? And what’s this club about? Don’t just stand there! Do something! I want answers and I want them now!

A chuckle escaped; he couldn't help it. His mind was full of crap about the economy and how no one was important; about all the physiological bullshit that he had grown so tired of over the years. When those thoughts escaped to ears that weren't expecting it, the reactions to those few was quite amusing. If not pitiful.

Tyler rose an eyebrow, and tilted his head slightly. Ran over by a car before? Well, this should be a gripping conversation. Although he wasn’t entirely convinced over whether or not it was worth it. ❝Interesting answer. How about your view on the people who waste away their lives on dead end jobs to buy materialistic goods that they really don’t need?❞

❝Y’know when you get that sudden urge to jump in front of a moving train?❞ A pause. Tyler looked towards her, and smiles. Someone had finally listened to him. He bends down and sits on the wooden plank, looking down towards the other.

"I dunno about a train but I’ve been run over by a car before." She’s distracted with a pair of broken scissors she’s pulling apart that she found in her bag.

Tyler rose an eyebrow, and tilted his head slightly. Ran over by a car before? Well, this should be a gripping conversation. Although he wasn't entirely convinced over whether or not it was worth it. ❝Interesting answer. How about your view on the people who waste away their lives on dead end jobs to buy materialistic goods that they really don't need?❞

A groan, and a slight turn to look at the other, before sighing heavily and getting up. He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and stuck it in his mouth, before glancing towards the other and smirking slightly, lighting it. He then began to walk out of the room and in the direction of the door. ❝--Just some simple expansion, nothin' to worry about.❞

“Fuck off with your sofa units and string green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let…lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

❝You would think that after thousands and thousands of years of imagining, discovering, thinking, creating— that the human race could come up with something better than a cliché old story of how a man and a woman came to love each other. Or of how the next celebrity got their number one hit, or their child, or what boy they’re going to date next.❞ He looked from the magazine, up towards the other, before taking a step forward, motioning to the next magazine on the store stand. ❝Now this one. Politics. A bunch of rich bastards who claim to millions of pounds each year while the rest of the country lives in poverty. Inconsiderate arseholes who complain daily about the state of the economy and don’t do a thing about it.❞ Tyler looked back to him, and flashed him a smile. ❝So which one do you believe is the most full of crap?❞

            Now, there was no clean cut answer to a question of this magnitude—- this was a question that reached down into you gut, and pulled out the truth. That, honestly, shocked Beau for a moment. He stood there, stunned, looking back at the stranger with furrowed eyebrows. But only for a moment, because next thing he knows, his mind is forming an answer. Which was worse? They both seemed pretty terrible to him. He’d never had much of connection to the world today, anyhow; the news, the celebrities, the music, none of it. Nothing from the day he was born could touch him, it was only the objects of days past that he liked. Trinkets from his grandfather’s day, stories brighter days where “Who wore it better”  wasn’t the most important question on the table.

He found someone who replied to him? If that wasn't a miracle, he didn't know what was. He saw that he thought about it too. Of course, some others had the same look on their faces once he posed the question, but again, this one stayed. Curiosity took over; maybe he could have a decent conversation with this guy.