"The cabinets are fine." There's nothing in particular in any of them; more books, some miscellaneous objects. There's absolutely no blankets or pillows anywhere to be seen, which is possibly concerning.
Not only are there a lot of books on ancient Egypt, there are a lot of novels with apocalyptic or dystopian settings. There's also multiple copies of what appears to be a Jack Ryan rip-off, if Sam has any idea about Tom Clancy. He has like three copies of the same book for some reason.
The apocalyptic stuff isn't a surprise, either. What is, though, is the action-adventure novels. Three of the same one, even. He shrugs and puts them next to each other in the cabinets.
"I never got to read much. I mean I had to, when I was younger, for school. But once I broke out on my own as a porter, I was either delivering or sleeping. Never took much time for myself."
"Shame," Higgs says, shaking his head. "I'm not really sure where I'd be without books. That's what I did most of the time. Read. Even on deliveries, where I needed to stop somewhere overnight." He sighs. "Nobody got it. Told me to get one of those damn ugly tablets instead."
Not that he'd been treating books very nicely at the end. "I used to buy big boxes of 'em without even knowing what was inside. It was kind of exciting, to tell the truth."
He doesn't say he knew part of that from reading his journal. He's not gonna shut Higgs down like that. Instead he says, "Yeah? For school I'd read off my tablet, but I liked going into the library just to look at the real books. Felt like stepping into the past."
He sets the last of his stack of books in the cabinet and leans against the desk. Looking somewhere over Higgs's shoulder. "That sounds... fun, actually. Getting a surprise every time."
Higgs is quiet for a long moment. "I've never had one. There were a bunch of pre-Stranding books in the shelter where I grew up. None of that digital shit." It's probably not a shock, though, since Higgs is a second-generation prepper. Children of preppers grew up with the objects people were able to save.
"A lot of the time, more than one of the books was too damaged to read, but that didn't stop me from trying to read it anyway." He's stubborn like that, though Sam knows only too well. At least trying to read damaged books is harmless, compared to other things Higgs has done.
"You've got a library now. Pretty decent one at that." They look well loved. Like Higgs has read them over and over again, waiting here in this shelter in between --
Well it doesn't bear thinking about. What matters is Higgs is being kind to him. And maybe he's falling into a trap of his own making, but part of him wants so badly to take this chance and have it work out.
"I suppose so." It's an interesting way to put it, at least. Not the way he's considered it before.
He's not sure what else to talk about; he's never done this before, had a real conversation with someone before, and Higgs isn't so sure how much he should open up to Sam. He's already said far too much. "If people are actually gonna be livin' here, I should clean up all these boxes."
Again, something to do, something else to focus on. If Sam helps, he'll find that, likely unsurprising given Higgs' background, the pizza boxes are all completely empty.
"It may just be a few days. I don't want to completely take over your place." He hadn't really asked, after all. It had been more of a declaration, and he feels a little guilty about that as he starts stacking pizza boxes."
"My backup plan was to see if any of the other buildings around here were abandoned. Maybe some prepper got tired of living alone and moved to the city."
Given how much time Higgs spent around preppers, it's probably not a shock that he has opinions on the subject. He shakes his head. "You're more likely to hear about folks leavin' cities than you are preppers moving to one of them, especially around here."
There are a number of satellite towns, but those are all even more connected to Bridges than an individual prepper is. "Though I'm sure you've got pals in the area willing to help."
"You're probably right." These are the people Higgs grew up with, he'd know better than Sam what they are and aren't willing to do.
As for pals willing to help, that makes Sam hesitate. "I don't... really know. I've got good working relationships with most of them, but I'm not sure who would go out of their way to help me. If any." It sounds pathetic when he says it out loud, but Amelie's skewed his view of friendship so fucking badly, he doesn't trust himself to judge that sort of thing anymore.
"Mn." It's an acknowledgement of Sam's statement. Higgs doesn't trust himself not to say something rude about it, and he doesn't want to. Not when this conversation with Sam is one of the first normal conversations he's had in over a year.
"Out West it took a long time for them to warm up to you."
"I noticed." The further West he got, the more hesitant people were about him. Some were downright hostile, at first. But dammit he'd felt the need to prove himself, just as much as he needed to connect the damned chiral network.
"I'm not sure if I can trust the people I thought were friends. At least I know where I stand, with you."
Higgs is silent for a long moment. "I suppose you do." It's odd to think about.
There's a lot involving Sam he's not sure he could explain. The walls of crazy just add to it, really. The one thing he's certain he can't explain at all, though, are the schematics. Likes, as valuable as they are, didn't see the correct choice as a parting gift.
The schematics, weapons capable of being filled with any number of bullets; both non-lethal and otherwise, seemed much more useful to him in the long days he'd spent designing the guns.
As crazy as Higgs is, he'd also been... kind, Sam supposes. In his own way. Giving those schematics as a parting gift had been nothing short of incredible. He can't imagine all the damage, non-lethal or otherwise, those guns could do.
And Higgs had let him into his home. Into his mind, really. Which is how he knows Higgs doesn't bear him any grudges. Sam isn't sure how to repay something like that.
Instead he holds up a stack of pizza boxes and asks, "Where does trash go?"
Higgs fiddles with his boxes for a moment before responding. "There's an incinerator out front. On your right as soon as you walk out the front door, before you get to the shelter entrance."
The floor plan for the shelter is so small, it should be incredibly easy to find it. "Sorry about the mess out there. I've got some generators and shit blocking it, but you should be able to access the control panel without too much trouble."
"Afraid your pizza boxes gonna go necro?" It's a stupid joke. Everyone has incinerators, up this way. It's just smart business, not leaving trash lying around. In the cities you can take your stuff to dumpsters and they'll incinerate for you but out here? You're on your own.
Sam takes the boxes Higgs is holding and heads up to go incinerate them. Muttering to himself about what a dumb joke he made.
The joke is so ridiculous it pulls a laugh from Higgs before he can stop himself. It's a genuine one, too, by how short and startled it is, even if he does straighten up abruptly in an attempt to make himself look a little more serious.
"I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Bridges."
Well, at least it made Higgs laugh. Sam smiles and ducks his head, the tips of his ears turning a little red.
"It's my best kept secret." Or at least, a secret between him and the security cameras in all the private rooms he stayed. Somewhere he's sure there's footage of him making faces in the mirror, or taking stupid selfies. Flexing for whoever watches the cameras. It relieves boredom for a few minutes, anyway.
"You got any other interesting secrets?" It's teasing more than a real question, friendly banter he's not even aware of doing.
"You've always struck me as the broody, serious type. Doesn't speak much at all unless there's a very good reason." Versus Higgs, who... well, when he talks he does talk a lot, but he's not exactly the chatty person he was under the Extinction Entity's influence.
Porters are often off in their own heads. Maybe that's why so many of them these days travel in small groups. It's less lonely that way, even if it does slow down deliveries. "I wouldn't know what questions to ask," he says with a shrug. He frowns right after, though. Maybe that's a little too harsh a way to put it. "What I mean is... I don't really... talk to folks much. I'm better at writing letters."
"Huh," Higgs says. It's filler, a noise indicating he's still present even if he's struggling to come up with something to talk about. "Well... you know what my favorite food is. So what's yours?"
It's an innocent question, as far as he's concerned. No way to have it turn into a conversation about something incredibly unpleasant.
"Most of the time, if I'm craving something, it's a really good piece of meat. Burger, steak, whatever. Something I can really sink my teeth into, you know?" It feels like a boring answer, but at least they're talking.
It may be a boring answer to Sam, but at the very least Higgs looks interested. "We could always order burgers, you know. Get a huge order out here. Peter Englert was orderin' food often enough no one would suspect anything. Well, I suppose it not bein' pizza might be a little odd but it ain't like most people are paying attention to that."
Higgs hadn't gone to great efforts to disguise himself at all, but it seemed like Bridges were a little too occupied to notice the obvious hints. "What do you have in that canteen you're always drinking from?"
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Not only are there a lot of books on ancient Egypt, there are a lot of novels with apocalyptic or dystopian settings. There's also multiple copies of what appears to be a Jack Ryan rip-off, if Sam has any idea about Tom Clancy. He has like three copies of the same book for some reason.
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"I never got to read much. I mean I had to, when I was younger, for school. But once I broke out on my own as a porter, I was either delivering or sleeping. Never took much time for myself."
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Not that he'd been treating books very nicely at the end. "I used to buy big boxes of 'em without even knowing what was inside. It was kind of exciting, to tell the truth."
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He sets the last of his stack of books in the cabinet and leans against the desk. Looking somewhere over Higgs's shoulder. "That sounds... fun, actually. Getting a surprise every time."
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"A lot of the time, more than one of the books was too damaged to read, but that didn't stop me from trying to read it anyway." He's stubborn like that, though Sam knows only too well. At least trying to read damaged books is harmless, compared to other things Higgs has done.
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Well it doesn't bear thinking about. What matters is Higgs is being kind to him. And maybe he's falling into a trap of his own making, but part of him wants so badly to take this chance and have it work out.
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He's not sure what else to talk about; he's never done this before, had a real conversation with someone before, and Higgs isn't so sure how much he should open up to Sam. He's already said far too much. "If people are actually gonna be livin' here, I should clean up all these boxes."
Again, something to do, something else to focus on. If Sam helps, he'll find that, likely unsurprising given Higgs' background, the pizza boxes are all completely empty.
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"My backup plan was to see if any of the other buildings around here were abandoned. Maybe some prepper got tired of living alone and moved to the city."
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There are a number of satellite towns, but those are all even more connected to Bridges than an individual prepper is. "Though I'm sure you've got pals in the area willing to help."
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As for pals willing to help, that makes Sam hesitate. "I don't... really know. I've got good working relationships with most of them, but I'm not sure who would go out of their way to help me. If any." It sounds pathetic when he says it out loud, but Amelie's skewed his view of friendship so fucking badly, he doesn't trust himself to judge that sort of thing anymore.
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"Out West it took a long time for them to warm up to you."
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"I'm not sure if I can trust the people I thought were friends. At least I know where I stand, with you."
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There's a lot involving Sam he's not sure he could explain. The walls of crazy just add to it, really. The one thing he's certain he can't explain at all, though, are the schematics. Likes, as valuable as they are, didn't see the correct choice as a parting gift.
The schematics, weapons capable of being filled with any number of bullets; both non-lethal and otherwise, seemed much more useful to him in the long days he'd spent designing the guns.
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And Higgs had let him into his home. Into his mind, really. Which is how he knows Higgs doesn't bear him any grudges. Sam isn't sure how to repay something like that.
Instead he holds up a stack of pizza boxes and asks, "Where does trash go?"
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The floor plan for the shelter is so small, it should be incredibly easy to find it. "Sorry about the mess out there. I've got some generators and shit blocking it, but you should be able to access the control panel without too much trouble."
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Sam takes the boxes Higgs is holding and heads up to go incinerate them. Muttering to himself about what a dumb joke he made.
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"I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Bridges."
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"It's my best kept secret." Or at least, a secret between him and the security cameras in all the private rooms he stayed. Somewhere he's sure there's footage of him making faces in the mirror, or taking stupid selfies. Flexing for whoever watches the cameras. It relieves boredom for a few minutes, anyway.
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"You've always struck me as the broody, serious type. Doesn't speak much at all unless there's a very good reason." Versus Higgs, who... well, when he talks he does talk a lot, but he's not exactly the chatty person he was under the Extinction Entity's influence.
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Sam shrugs and leans against the edge of the desk again. "You can ask me whatever. Like you said, I read your journal."
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Porters are often off in their own heads. Maybe that's why so many of them these days travel in small groups. It's less lonely that way, even if it does slow down deliveries. "I wouldn't know what questions to ask," he says with a shrug. He frowns right after, though. Maybe that's a little too harsh a way to put it. "What I mean is... I don't really... talk to folks much. I'm better at writing letters."
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What's something that I know about you, that you want to know about me?" he offers, by way of a potential conversation starter.
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It's an innocent question, as far as he's concerned. No way to have it turn into a conversation about something incredibly unpleasant.
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Higgs hadn't gone to great efforts to disguise himself at all, but it seemed like Bridges were a little too occupied to notice the obvious hints. "What do you have in that canteen you're always drinking from?"
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