SOMETHING TO SHOCK 'EM!

Henry Hidgens || The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals

Kooky Reclusive Biology Professor ™

He’s been pretty much isolated and preparing for the apocalypse for the past 30 years

Writing a musical about a group of old college friends, He seems oddly close to the characters though. like. really close. 

was struck by lightning and now he wears turtlenecks constantly  

63 year old Gay Disaster 

Might yell at you to get off his lawn but he can be nice when he wants to be. 

Trusts only the people who can make a really convincing argument or bring him groceries 

Someone should give him a slack, he was out of the game for almost an year now and going on two years in this city. He may have been back at home for a while, until dragged back into what it feels like hell, he missed home, he missed everyone else. And bones was also afraid the long he stay here, the long he would miss everything; would he forget their faces? what would happen when he was not there? He knew he was replaceable, any capable doctor can be a CMO, but that felt like a sting to his wound. He damn well missed his family, it ached to stay here and listen. Do nothing and wait, wait for what these bastards would bring to him, he felt trapped and it was honestly adding oil to the fire. 

“Sounds like a infestation, if y’ask me. have anyone been harmed durin’ this whole shenanigans? Did they threatend y’besides from makin’ ya’ll dance and sing? How long has this happened?” he was generally curious, he was, after all, a doctor in his own field. “Wha’ also sounds t’me is tha’ they might be controllin’ yer minds, or hallucinations.” there would be many cases, others different from each other, but he had no clue until there is a better information. 

“They were… extremely hostile, it seemed to be a fail-proof way of infection. I didn’t experience much of it myself - I had already constructed a safehouse in the case of an apocalyptic situation but what I was told and what I saw was enough to go off of. Some of them would trick people, one of my students worked at a coffee shop and her co-workers mixed some… blue shit in with coffee, that pretty much poisoned everyone. Then the group of survivors I took in- one of them brought her husband to me, he was infected and unconscious and wanted me to help him. That thing gutted the poor girl when we weren’t paying attention. I never should’ve let her bring that monster into my house, that put all of our lives at risk!” 

“Hm.” He clicks his tounge together, giving a small nod at the reply in question, listening careful by their words. It was fascinating to hear different eras, different times and how the people cope with their surroundings. It was also interesting to see how they cope with the city itself; how few didn’t know of such technology or even some who doesn’t have such in their own world. Bones tries to understand them, but it was strange on his part, since everything around him was down graded. He lived in a world where technology is so advance than the world he was currently residence.  “You’re right, it ain’t simple. We Have folks who don’t understand machine in general ‘ere ‘n I find it quite fascinatin’ t’ look at ‘em.” He can’t help but admit it. 

Yet, the information given did make him perk, gazing at them in interest of his own, “A specimen?” He asked; he had seen so many to count for, lot of which wanted him dead. The more he spoke the more bone couldn’t help but raise his brow in confusion, “Musical traits? Like singin’ folks?” He paused, trying to understand the information just given, “Well, i’ve got lot of cases where folks would see hallucination thanks t’some floras. Almost killed by lizard folks, ended up on a planet filled with leeches tha’ would control your mind and eat away at your body. A livin’ rock was th’ strangest. Never really anythin’ t’deal with… Musical.” 

         “Eighty-seven,” Castiel repeats in tandem, minding the necessary adjustment of the book ; the upside-down worldview of something so minuscule yet captivating. He is perpetually fascinated with humanity, right down to riddles and science exams.

         “You have a sharp mind, as I’ve said. It’s commendable.”

         —yet, as bright blue eyes look upward, there is the betrayal of youth on Henry’s face ( whatever the nature of the affliction he has suffered, the traces of it are deeply and strikingly visible in the linework of his skin ; in the periorbital dark circles beneath his eyes ) : he is fraught with exhaustion.

         The next audible sound is a slow, toilsome breathing : yet it doesn’t raise itself in its seemingly-mortal alarm, “You are free to speculate with me over this useless information if you are feeling restless.”

He returns the book, still open on the page. It slips from his hand easily, no more thought given to it. He remains leaning, although attention fixated on the room still unfamiliar. It’s not the elaborate mansion, standing menacingly amongst the pines in the Witchwood, but the coziness isn’t overlooked. 

“Thank you, I wouldn't have a doctorate if I didn’t.” Does his doctorate even apply here? 

@anglerfishnabe​ said:  ‘ what makes you laugh? ’

@thursdy​ said:  ‘ tell me one truth and one lie. ’  

✧*:･ﾟ| SIEBREN has enough sense not to voice his thoughts aloud. Firstly, he is quite frankly of the opinion that cigarettes should not be smokes, PROUD of his strengths, however few they may be. And secondly, that the other could very much use a comforting hug more than a smoke. But, for all his nosiness and need to learn and piece apart the lives of others, he keeps it to himself. A WIDE EYED stare, owlish lilac hues taking in the stranger.

❝AH, I ah certainly —- ❞ he responds for despite his distaste of cigarettes, Siebren has always learned that a lighter is a useful tool to keep on hand, particularly as the Stars are prone to TOYING with the lives of the city’s citizens. The object is fished out, very much hardly used, and handed over after many long moments of digging around keys and little honey sweets. ❝There we go! Here’s HOPING it still works, hm?❞

BUT of course, his CURIOSITY remains, hands returning to his pockets as eyes wander over the theatre. So much life and passion resting within; even being near calms his bones. Fingers outstretch, press against a marble column. ❝Do you ENJOY the theatre?❞

The seconds between the other’s response and his offer last much longer than they should. Hidgens knows he should find better coping mechanisms, he had the last 30 years to find a healthier method of fighting his increasing anxiety but no matter what he always seems to return to tobacco… and alcohol. Bad habits die hard, he supposes.

“Thanks.” He takes the lighter shakily, instinctively using his other hand to shield the small flame from even the slightest breeze. Following the chance to fuel his addiction, he finally takes notice of the stranger’s most unique trait: the way he hovers several feet above the ground, as though it repels him. As much as Henry tries to act as though this doesn’t faze him, he struggles to hide a slight sense of fascination. Catching himself staring, he clears his throat and answers the question. 

“Well, ‘m pretty much th’same with folks in this time period too, so we ain’t too different. Although, lot of folks from this city should be an exception, seein’ th’ out of th’world fashions.” so he didn’t fault the stranger when they pointed out how plain his uniform looked, “It’s a Starfleet insignia, I guess y’could call it a team. We’re part of the Federation of planets, big deal out in space.” 

“I suppose there’ll always be that barrier between understanding part of certain time periods. Although that’s not what I focus on, as interesting as human advancement is.” He rocks back and forth slightly, thinking about the implications of such an organization's existence - life on other planets, something that has already been proven to him, just not to such an extent. Surely, this must mean that the meteor that implanted itself into Hatchetfield wasn’t alone in it’s ill-intent… and surely, it means there’s just as much to worry about. Henry tries to hide his pain and he tightens his grip on the glass of alcohol in his hands. 

“I thought my knowledge on the subject of aliens was greater than most, obviously you can prove others… although I am curious if you know of a certain… specimen. Before I ended up here, a meteor crashed in the town I lived in. It’s effects on the residence were, let’s say strange. It was like a virus, at first it was only a handful of people and then apparently almost all of the population. The infecteds’ blood turned blue and it had… uh… musical traits.”

“Yes! It is rather amazing!” He agreed with a grin on his face. He was blown away by the marvels within the house. Even the world outside caused him to stare in awestruck. He lead Henry to the kitchen and towards the fridge and stove. They had stoves, kind of. But, nothing like this. He had opened the lid, but came to the conclusion it was far too small to place a fire inside.

“Uhm, how do you work these two objects?” He asked. He wanted to be able to cook again, but learning how to use such objects was important first and foremost.

He fidgets as he begins to explain, quickly motioning to the fridge before continuing to brush his fingers together, if only to keep his mind moving. “The fridge is pretty simple, it’s just used to preserve certain foods. Meats, vegetables, anything that needs to be kept cold to keep it from rotting. As for the stove…” he turns one of the knobs, and a little flame flickers to life on top, which Hidgens quickly snuffs out by turning it off, “These are used to control the intensity of the flames.” 

         AND HIS RETORT IS UNHASTING, UNDELAYING, GRADUAL, SURE : “The lack of precautionary measures to fend against all manner of MONSTERHOOD within these walls is concerning. More concerning than that : fiendish names that could tie the tongue or break the jaw run rampant even here. The appearance of creatures all bristle, chaff, and claw may be present as well.” Castiel tilts his head, never moving an inch from the threshold, his eyes bright and clear as a drop of summer rain, nearly a glimmering blue. They settle on the rifle in the other’s grip, and he adds, unperturbed :

         ”You are far more prepared than our fellow residents, therefore, you must understand my sense of urgency. You seem to have a sharp enough mind if you have a weapon at the ready.” The admittance sinks to a whisper, lingers in awful silence, laying bare remorse after ailing remorse, shuddersome and shuddersome ; dreadful and yet more dreadful. Yet, to Castiel, this is common practice. “If I may, I would like to add protection sigils, runes—place several strategic devil traps—within our sharing space to ensure that we are not attacked by demons anytime soon.”

         —and despite how he holds harrowing scriptures ; old-world tales of strange impossible torments and DEMONS on his tongue ( of men and monsters, coherent yet unmeaning, linked together by a fear-etched skein of abhorrence ), he must add, “And against those also possessing wavelengths of celestial intent.” A prolonged sigh. “Angels.”

There is no right to judge the other’s warnings, Henry thinks as he catches himself in overcritical thought. If anything, the shared mindset is a blessing. he heeds every word of caution with a grain of salt, deciphering the others’ overly-poetic phrasing of his sentences. “I can agree that there is little being done to protect us from anything. Only a lock keeps us safe from whatever wants us at its mercy.” 

@ariatorule​

“Well, yes, I guess y’can put me in th’ catagory of folks who looked like they’ve just walked out of th’ cheesy scifi movie, if y’wanna call it tha’.” He gave a small shrug, he had seen his share of how the 21st century sees the future and he was honestly a bit disappointed to see lot of destruction or invasions.  “‘m just wearin’ my normal uniform today.”