tushanshu | 001;

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[It takes him a while to figure out the console - a mechanical box of some sort, on the table in his little apartment? What newfangled technology is this now? Seems rather silly to Booker, being able to see people's faces through it. It's not any better than a telephone, and much less mobile.

It takes him a moment to realize the video feed is actually on and he can stop poking and banging at it - he frowns into the camera somewhat suspiciously, then.]

This seems like a nice enough place. I'm not looking for any trouble, but I need to find someone. A girl. Brown hair, blue eyes, a little on the small side. She answers to Elizabeth. It's important I find her.

If anyone can point me in the right direction, I'll be much obliged. If she's here.

[A brief look - of desperation, vulnerability, fear, even - crosses his face, and then he shakes it off.]

If you see her, tell her Booker's looking for her. [Then he flips off the feed abruptly.]

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That's hard.

[Her friends are few and far between. Or dead. There's also dead.]

How do you know her? I'm just wondering in case I do meet her. I don't want to freak her out.

[There it is, how do you know her? Well isn't that the question for the ages.

Being completely honest is out of the question, but outright lies are probably not a good idea, either, especially if she is here. So, boil it down to its simplest?]

I was hired to see her to safety.

[That works. Sure.]

[She can leave it at that. She knows when not to pry.]

Bodyguard. Gotcha. Booker the Bodyguard. I will remember that. And, like I said, I'll keep an eye out for her.

[A pause, then a shrug.]

Somethin' like that, sure.

Thanks.

You didn't seem like you wanted to go into too many details.

[Julie's smart and good at reading people. He gets a grin from her.]

I don't pry when I hardly know someone. It's unfair. And rude as hell.

There are likely some who could learn from your example, miss.

I'm familiar with the expression and attitude of one that wishes to not talk about something.

Back home, almost everyone has that face. I don't pry, unless I think I need to. And, again, if I know the person.

You're Elizabeth's bodyguard and that's fine by me.

[Unless she somehow thinks this guy should explain more, then she'll pester. But only if someone is in danger and she thinks he has the answers.]

Edited (wrong bioshock for all of two seconds) 2013-10-27 02:35 (UTC)

Must be a rough place to call home. [He's not prying, either, really, just vaguely curious. She seems very young, at least. Then again, so is Elizabeth, and the kind of life she's had...]

It is. [And she's open about her world, so...] Home is dying. My world is on it's way out. There are zombies. I've been told that for every one alive and kicking human, there are two of them at the very least.

Zombies? [What the hell is that? is the tone of his voice right now. That word isn't exactly in wide circulation in 1912.]

Deceased humans who reanimate and roam the earth, looking to make meals out of others. Their bites are contagious and only shots to the head, decapitation or severe dismemberment can get rid of them.

There's no cure so if you're bitten, you're fucked.

Zombies.

I'd say that sounds like sommethin' out of a penny dreadful, or a preacher's cautionary tale, if I hadn't seen somethin' like it myself recently.

Well, the dead weren't trying to eat me, though they tried their hardest to get mt to join them.

[It would've almost been enough to make him believe in God again, except he knows God had nothing to do with bringing Lady Comstock back.]

[She smiles a bit, nodding. She knows what a penny dreadful is, if only because she reads anything she can get her hands on and learning is one of her favorite things.]

I'd honestly hate to meet the preacher that uses zombies as a 'get right with God' sermon.

[...not including that whole Jesus rising...thing.]

I haven't had good experiences with preachers, so I might not be the best judge.

[Vague shrug.]

I generally avoid them. They're a little too 'end is nigh' for me back home.

[That sort of thing seemed like they'd given up and weren't preachers supposed to be rays of hope or some shit?]

Plenty of that where I come from, too.

Where are you from, anyway?

New York.

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