#kleinstar001

It isn't all too different from the city, to John. Buildings, amusement park, even a beach. Not all too bad, things considered. But he was worried, for Winston and Charon, the onslaught he'd left in the middle of. Thank fuck the dog is with him. Unfamiliar with this place, John keeps the coins in his pocket close, searching for a sign. Any passing familiar glances, any people looking at sudden phone notifications. He knew nobody here, and all he had to defend himself with was a toy ( but with a past like his, that's more than enough ).

He was getting hungry. So he did anything a reasonable man would; bought a hotdog from a vendor and sat on a bench, his doting pitbull sitting beside him with an expectant look, tail wagging and mouth watering. John looked back at his hotdog, breaking off a piece of the sausage and feeding it to the dog, petting him gently on the head. Just scraps for now, until he figured this place out a bit... "I'll get you some kibble later."

It missed having it's own body. V's is nice sometimes ( for example; Silverhand is a tits guy over everything else ), but it's no glove to fit in. One of the best things about having complete and total control of a body is that the booze hits in realtime, the high doesn't lag, and he can actually put his feet in front of himself to stop from tripping over. One of the things he'd planned on doing before talking to Rogue was to prove that it was him, but part of that plan was the selfish need to feel real. Fuck, does he miss this.

"Gotta take care of somethin'-- stay here." Silverhand rushes around the corner of the alleyway, holding its mouth with one hand, before kneeling next to some bins and emptying everything from his stomach two hours prior ( has it really only been two hours? ). His hair is a mess, sunglasses askew, bile threatening to reacquaint itself with his throat. He upchucks again, groaning, before stumbling out of the alleyway to find that his date for the night has vanished. Shit.

Volo had invited him to his desk at the Spirale Annals, offering the open seat at the other side of the desk. A notebook sat open, the top of the page labelled VOLO'S GUIDE TO SPIRALE, a few notes scribbled extensively beneath, amongst a few little illustrations.