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[awooligan]

CLIFFORD NORMAN
UN: REDRIDINGHOODIE

STATUS: grade 11

ACCOLADES: n/a.

BIO: name's cliff. let me know if you'll buy cigarettes and shit for me, we can work something out.

© TESSISAMESS

Comments

[awooligan]

[Can a bird drink soda... It's an interesting thought, and one he probably would have lingered more on if he were sober, but instead he rolls his eyes and gives a wry smile.]

Chocolate, huh. [Chocolate's bad for dogs. Maybe chocolate would keep it down better than bourbon.

He's not nearly as steady as he was the last time he did this, but the Clifford Express isn't too terrible of a ride. He falls quieter, though, weary but even moreso when he considers the possibility that all this talking and walking around might be undoing his efforts. What if he has to drink even more tonight... He almost wants to puke just thinking about it. Absorbed in that thought, it isn't until he's in front of the vending machine that he's like,] Oh. Money?

[It'd be weird for a vending machine to not need money, but it wasn't like the school needed it... Maybe he'll just squint and experimentally poke at some buttons with his available hand.]

[hawkwardness]

< You don't have any money? > [Grumble grumble. He doesn't get paid enough for this.] < Okay, hold on, I'll be back. >

[And he tries to launch himself into the air as gently as possible... flying indoors is trickier. He'll return! With spare change!]

[awooligan]

I wasn't really planning on our talk going in this direction? I thought you'd kick me out.

[It was going to be a short visit, why would he need money... He startles a little as Tobias takes off, reactions dulled but all that really does is place him back in the human range.]

W -- [Wait... But it's too late, huh. Off he goes... Cliff stands there stupidly, which he gets bored with so he switches to inspecting the snacks. Ooh, chips. That's not candy, but it's junk. Valid option. Conclusion reached, the boredom starts to set in again. Yeah... He can feel the antsy wolf's need for stimulation, and he can feel his nose, too, which he wrinkles and is pinching when Tobias returns. Cliff regards him blankly.]

Hey. [Hi...] Sorry. I'll pay you back. Y'know... Garrett would've just tried to stick his arm in and get stuck? Unless Micah was actually around. Then we'd've made him do it. Be funny. Can you eat chips?

[hawkwardness]

< Good point, I guess I could have crawled in. >

[As what, he doesn't say. He's got a little cloth baggie in his beak, which he tosses onto the floor once he's perched again. French change!]

< No, nothing in there, unless I change shape. Don't worry about it. >

[awooligan]

[Aaah, it's harder to crouch down and keep his arm level, but he's doing his best. French change... French change for chips to eat by himself, and that's fine. Since it would just be using more of Toby's money, he doesn't float the idea of soda out there. It's math, anyway.]

Do you just pick stuff up? Like a crow. Hey -- when I asked about buying stuff for me, you said you thought you'd have to pay? But, like... I didn't think you had money. Why would you?

[It's just idle chitchat because it doesn't really matter anymore. Chips... There's barbecue flavor, which is so ridiculously tempting but half-defeats the purpose of going for chips in the first place. Just regular chips are fine, too.]

I know that isn't the point, I figure you just hate this shit... It's helping right now, even if it's gonna suck tomorrow.

[hawkwardness]

< We all got Christmas money last year from someone anonymous. I haven't had much to spend it on, I have a lot left. >

[Rich people are bizarre, basically. Giving money to birds like that. He turns his head, questioningly...]

< Uh. What am I supposed to be hating now? >

[awooligan]

[Huh... That's bizarre behavior for rich people, he's pretty sure. Oh well.]

Uh, you think I just get wasted all the time. And that I'd be a jackass like earlier if I didn't. [Jokes on Tobias, he's just a jackass.] I really don't, you know... Shit's just...complin...complicated, right now.

[hawkwardness]

[He says a few words to himself, not projected so others can hear, and a ghostly hand picks up the bag of coins, brining it within reach of his beak. He could have stolen chips that way too, he supposes... blame him for not thinking clearly.]

< It's like a dollar in American money, forget it. It wasn't about the money, it's... also complicated. >

[awooligan]

[Though he's mildly distracted, he nods, having figured something like that. The way he'd received Cliff in his room sort of confirmed his suspicions. Since he didn't seem to be simmering on it -- at least as far as he's able to tell right now, which isn't a guarantee at all -- Cliff thinks it's...okay. Not great, obviously, but Tobias had sort of accepted his state without a need for explanation. This means he's not going to push on how the heck a bird ends up having a problem with drunkards -- idiots outside bars throwing rocks, maybe? He could see that. People suck.

And he'll just be assuming that Toby is a good boy and not a fan of random snack stealing for drunk idiot boys. It's all fine.]

Life should cut that out. The "being complicated" thing. Anyway, the paying you back isn't really about the money either, but more, like, you didn't fucking ask for any of this. It's like I'm making you my chaperone every time we hang out. You seriously act way older than you sound, dude, it's a little weird.

[hawkwardness]

[Cliff's not wrong and Tobias is very, very aware. But... what is there to say about it? Should he be apologizing?]

< Yeah, I know. Sorry. I'm not much fun. Fun's not what people expect of me, really. >

[It never was and it never will be.]

[awooligan]

[Apparently apologizing is weird, too, because after getting and opening his bag of chips with the help of his teeth, Clifford looks at him and makes a face. Anyway... Fuck, how is he going to eat... Hm.]

Kev does. [Frowns...at chips... It's clearly an unsolvable problem.] What do people expect, anyway? From a talking bird. Dead rats?

[hawkwardness]

[Inwardly he rolls his eyes and flutters to the top of the vending machine. There, both hands free.]

< He's actually into playing games though. > [And... you know what, he's not going to dignify that with an answer.] < I mean, you could play too. >

[awooligan]

[oh -- ]

Uh, was I saying that out loud? [The impossible chips-eating problem stuff...] Sorry.

[He holds the bag in his teeth again so he can take the glove off and set it on top of his head for the time being. He's recovered enough that eating with it on, even if he holds the bag in that hand, sounds gross.

Also, what? He was genuinely asking!!!]

Mm... I do. [Munch, crunch. Chips were a good decision, he concludes with a little nod to himself.] The consoles are back home, though. So it's mostly stuff I can play on my phone to pass the time. Not a lot of multiplayer, unless it's something I play with Kevin.

[hawkwardness]

< Yeah. There aren't a lot of options on phones. I don't have enough money to buy anything better to play on either, they didn't give us that much. >

[Everything's so damn expensive. Oh well. Only so much time in a day.]

[awooligan]

[He goes over to lean against the vending machine, eyes tipping up to the ceiling.]

Yeah... Kevin tried to say I should get a switch lite when he knew I was leaving. I think he felt bad for some reason that he was getting it all to himself, like it wasn't for him anyway. Told him no way Carl was gonna go for that, even if he pulled out the good kid puppy dog eyes.

[Cliff seems amused, which combined with his slowly increasing need for activity, makes him tip his head a little further back so he's in prime chip-catching position when he tosses one up. Wow, what a trick! Good boy! Stupid.]

Phone's enough, though. You just click stuff and an hour goes by. Not the best for actually playing, but a great way to avoid doing homework.

[hawkwardness]

[He nestles down, tucking his feet into his feathers, a little face peeking over the edge.]

< I'd rather be actually playing a game. Or watching a movie. Reading. Flying. I'm not bored usually, anyway. There's always something to do. >

[awooligan]

[Oh that sounds nice... Not being bored. If he wasn't bored and lonely, he wouldn't get into nearly as much trouble, he thinks -- still some. Always some. Nothing could change that about him. But movies were a tricky business sometimes, reading was...eh, and he couldn't fly. Because of only having the phone, the game problem's already been pointed out. Hmm.]

You don't ever feel like you're going crazy, not doing enough? [before he catches another tossed-up chip. Hell yeah, not even missing the shot while drunk.]

[hawkwardness]

< No... you know how I said I feel like whatever animal I am? I don't think I mind sitting around as much as you would. I mind it a little, but... like I said, there's always things to do. >

[Hawks spend so much of their time flying or sitting, searching for prey, being patient. Being aware of movement. Not thinking about much else. It's only Tobias who needs more.]

[awooligan]

[He’s about to throw another chip up, but he pauses last second and sighs, closing his eyes and letting that arm go limp at his side. His admission leans closer to a grumble.]

I did like twenty laps around the track earlier. I should’ve been too exhausted to be bored. But I still had to go and make everything slow down...

[hawkwardness]

< I seriously don't know, dude. I've never felt like that. >

[What is one bird supposed to do to fix it? It's a shame the infirmary isn't an option.]

< What else do you like to do, anyway? >

[awooligan]

[Mm. It's hopeless. And he'd already known it was hopeless going in, so despite that brief moment his ears had perked up hearing that Tobias changed with each animal, Clifford isn't expecting one bird to provide a fix at all. A whole flock of birds couldn't find a fix. He's just...relieved to be heard, really, by someone that doesn't even like him, so it isn't in some vain attempt to change what couldn't be changed. Cliff just...needs to work harder at pushing it down deep where it wouldn't be a burden on anyone else anymore. Same as before.]

What? [He blinks up, face blank, but his mind catches up a beat later and he's back to his chips.] Uh... I dunno. Kevin likes games and movies, my friends like -- well. You know. [That Stuff.] If none of them are around, I'm either in my room so I'm out of the way, or out in some forest, or field, or cliff side. Or doing chores or homework, but that's not really a a "like to do" thing.

[hawkwardness]

< Right... maybe what you need is a new hobby. To, uh, not think about things so much? >

[Hell if he knows. It's lame, he realizes, once he says it 'out loud'. A new hobby is a pretty pathetic attempt to take your mind off the literal apocalypse.]

[awooligan]

Pff.

[It's barely a laugh because he's not amused. Rattling his bag of chips to get them up against one side and easier to access is more amusing to him. A hobby... That's such a strange suggestion to hear in real life, at least when said genuinely.]

It's...fine. Getting drunk works, it just sucks ass the next day, but...like I said, it's going to be over soon, don't worry about it. I won't have to do it much longer...

[hawkwardness]

[Is that a red flag?? Again, what the hell??]

< What's going to be over? How do you know? >

[awooligan]

[In response, Cliff rolls his eyes before tossing one of the chips up again and catching it. He just said not to worry about it... Hmm.]

It's happened before. The not sleeping, and the shitty mood thing... [sighhh.] Back home I just thought it was wanting to get out of the house because Carl was pissing me off. Turns out I'm just losing my fucking mind, it's great.