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There he goes. He messes with something on his back, and his rope goes <span class="mu-i">chunk-chunk</span> and stiffens. It doesn't look super comfortable, him dangling like that, but at least he isn't going anywhere. Unless you chew through his rope. Not that you'd do that. Unless he pissed you off. Then you'd do that, easy.
"HELLO," the guy signs. "...CAN YOU TALK?"
You clear your throat, despite lacking any. (No explanation there. You make the noise. Must be psychological.) "Yeah."
"WOW!
...YOU ARE ??? YOU ARE NOT-FALSE?"
You're... you're real... you're sure you're real? Oh. That's complicated. "I-I'm a person," you say defensively. "Are you a person? I-I want to see your face."
"MY FACE IS BAD."
You scoff-laugh. (No kidding? Diving Suit Guy has never seen yours, apparently.) "Tough shit. Call i-it a prereq, okay? You reveal, I-I-I reveal, we talk. Unless you can't breathe without it?"
"...I CAN."
"Then take that shit off. I-I-I'm not talking to a mystery man, got it?"
"..."
Diving Suit Guy hesitates, but fiddles with the latches of his helmet. He needs two hands to pull it off, and maybe he forgot to turn off some kind of failsafe, because smoke starts streaming out right away. A <span class="mu-i">lot</span> of smoke, in all kinds of colors— green, blue, yellow, light brown, dark brown. Some of those are probably reds. Is this why he had the helmet? Is this a guy made entirely of smoke? He got smokeified? You would've laughed at that, once upon a time, but at this point you're sure goddamn anything is possible. Shit, at least you're corporeal. That's not nothing.
Or, no. There's a face in there, once most of the smoke has drifted off. Not all the smoke. Half the face got smokeified, at least (so that definitely is a thing). The other half is— shit! That's not a guy! That's a lady! She's got freckles and Charlotte-curly hair, though she's not blonde, not even a little. You think she'd be pretty if you squinted half your eyes shut and pretended she had an entire face.
"Is that better?" Smoke Lady mostly sounds normal, if a tad soft-spoken. Not a smoker voice at all. Ha-ha. "...You're Gil."
"I—" Wait, what? "What does i-it—"
"You were shot! I'm so sorry." Her surviving eye roams over you. "But I guess you... you're better?"
You're tempted to claim otherwise, just to stick it to her. Who is this chick? Has Lottie been <span class="mu-i">talking</span> about you? "I-I-I-I'm fine. Who are <span class="mu-i">you?</span>"
"I'm Anthea Aves," says Anthea Aves, and tilts her head. Her smoke runs purple. "I guess you wouldn't remember me. It doesn't really matter. Please believe me— this place is going to explode!"
>[END THREAD]
