[ Randel was no stranger to hospital stays. There were times when he thought of the bed in the clinic as being more familiar than his little camp under the bridge. If he didn't need to keep his cats fed, he wonders if he'd end up there at all between Section III's missions and his injuries. So while he's in the hospital, he's pretty content to heal and listen to the nurses (who thankfully don't seem to have nearly as much of a fixation with his urination needs as Nurse Rosetta) and keep his questions to a minimum, especially when he notices the fear in their eyes. Yes, he wants answers, but he won't let other people get hurt in order to get them.
Once he's out of the hospital, though, he lets those long legs of his get to work, walking around, getting a feel for the place. It's entirely outside of the realm of anything he's ever known or seen, even given all the traveling he'd done in the army. Definitely nothing like where he grew up. It's closer to some of the places out near the edges of the Imperial Capital, though not nearly as large and ostentatious.
He's seen a few people glance nervously at the signs, though they don't bother him nearly as much as he figures they probably should. He's lived through enough war, enough martial law, to know what it looks like. Though the rules themselves are where he starts to get a little curious.
And goodness knows, he has no idea what to do with the house. All it does is make him sort of wish that the Tumbleweeds were here, so that he could give it to them, since it's nicer than any place he's ever stayed at. Sometimes he sleeps there, but just as often he's to be found dozing under a bridge or on a park bench.
...well, mostly on the park bench. These things aren't made for people to sleep on, let alone seven-odd-foot tall people.
He's been pondering what to do, since there's no war here that he can see, let alone war relief, and his skills are... well, as his brother had always said, he wasn't good for much. But he at least has a strong back, so- ]
Could I maybe help you with that?
[2] into the woods
[ That... was a scream.
It's the first thing to break the idyllic peace in this place, and he reacts to it like the soldier he is, immediately reaching for-
Well, he doesn't have his gun or his shears, so his hand lands shakily on his lantern.
Not yet. Not yet. That could just make things worse.
He sees the looks, all of them telling him not to go, but he can't just ignore that, can't ignore someone, anyone, man or beast, in pain. He can't just leave someone to be hurt and his feet are running into the woods, through the brush, ignoring the sting and slap of the flora as he pushes past each bush and tree. His muscles are already aching by the time he can see the fence, and the sign.
Well, that's... that's certainly not encouraging.
He doesn't head for the fence, since he has no intention of dying, but his hand stays on his lantern as he starts looking around for someone, anyone, where the noise might have come from.]
Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need help? I can't find you! I'm here to help!
[3] a couple of flakes
[ At first, Randel had been out, doing what he could, putting the shovel he'd found in the garage to use to help clear drive ways and walkways. Once the snow continued, he'd done what he could, offering to bring people things from the shops since he's tall enough that the snow walking wasn't nearly so bad for him as for other people and besides, he's never really used cars much except on missions.
When the power goes out, he sighs a little, but given that he's lived most of his life without the convenience of electricity, it's just a matter of rearranging and resettling a few things to make due and weather it out. It only occurs to him that some of the others, some of the people who seem like they've had all these things their whole lives, that they might not know what to do or how to handle the cold.
He's never regretted growing up in District Zero, but this is the first time he's really appreciated that it might have given him something that others don't have. So, shovel in hand to help him in particularly rough spots, he sets out to check the house next door, to make sure that they're all right.
...hopefully not scare the living bejesus out of them when the giant man knocks on their door from out in the dark and the storm. ]
Are you all all right in there? Are you doing okay with the storm?! Do you need anything?
Randel Oland | Pumpkin Scissors
Once he's out of the hospital, though, he lets those long legs of his get to work, walking around, getting a feel for the place. It's entirely outside of the realm of anything he's ever known or seen, even given all the traveling he'd done in the army. Definitely nothing like where he grew up. It's closer to some of the places out near the edges of the Imperial Capital, though not nearly as large and ostentatious.
He's seen a few people glance nervously at the signs, though they don't bother him nearly as much as he figures they probably should. He's lived through enough war, enough martial law, to know what it looks like. Though the rules themselves are where he starts to get a little curious.
And goodness knows, he has no idea what to do with the house. All it does is make him sort of wish that the Tumbleweeds were here, so that he could give it to them, since it's nicer than any place he's ever stayed at. Sometimes he sleeps there, but just as often he's to be found dozing under a bridge or on a park bench.
...well, mostly on the park bench. These things aren't made for people to sleep on, let alone seven-odd-foot tall people.
He's been pondering what to do, since there's no war here that he can see, let alone war relief, and his skills are... well, as his brother had always said, he wasn't good for much. But he at least has a strong back, so- ]
Could I maybe help you with that?
It's the first thing to break the idyllic peace in this place, and he reacts to it like the soldier he is, immediately reaching for-
Well, he doesn't have his gun or his shears, so his hand lands shakily on his lantern.
Not yet. Not yet. That could just make things worse.
He sees the looks, all of them telling him not to go, but he can't just ignore that, can't ignore someone, anyone, man or beast, in pain. He can't just leave someone to be hurt and his feet are running into the woods, through the brush, ignoring the sting and slap of the flora as he pushes past each bush and tree. His muscles are already aching by the time he can see the fence, and the sign.
Well, that's... that's certainly not encouraging.
He doesn't head for the fence, since he has no intention of dying, but his hand stays on his lantern as he starts looking around for someone, anyone, where the noise might have come from.]
Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Do you need help? I can't find you! I'm here to help!
When the power goes out, he sighs a little, but given that he's lived most of his life without the convenience of electricity, it's just a matter of rearranging and resettling a few things to make due and weather it out. It only occurs to him that some of the others, some of the people who seem like they've had all these things their whole lives, that they might not know what to do or how to handle the cold.
He's never regretted growing up in District Zero, but this is the first time he's really appreciated that it might have given him something that others don't have. So, shovel in hand to help him in particularly rough spots, he sets out to check the house next door, to make sure that they're all right.
...hopefully not scare the living bejesus out of them when the giant man knocks on their door from out in the dark and the storm. ]
Are you all all right in there? Are you doing okay with the storm?! Do you need anything?