[He isn't quite sure how he always ends up exploring these new spaces with Gebura, but he supposes he shouldn't complain. If he had to choose someone, it would be her; less likely to complain, more likely to understand just why all of this is dangerous, all of it nonsense. Even things that would seem innocuous.
The carnivorous plants that rest on the shelves at each side of them as they walk through the greenhouse definitely do not seem innocuous.
One them curls a vine somewhat aggressively in their direction as they pass.]
To hell with this place.
[He says, pausing just long enough to let Gebura pass first.]
[She at least knows him well enough by now to realize that, no, he is not being a gentleman. He is letting her deal with the vines first.
The one squeezed loosens and retracts, and Weir is quick to unhitch his knife (stolen from a local kitchen -- nothing very impressive) and cut it away when it eases towards him instead. Seeming to understand the point, it curls away fully.]
Like prey walking straight into a trap, and knowingly, too.
[They still have a bunch of vines to walk under, which. Weir does not want to do. Gods.]
That's what it always feels like when one of these new places crop up.
But you're doing so well, why would I take that away from you?
[He huffs. But fine. Perhaps it'll look a little silly, darting through a curtain of reaching vines, but he doesn't care terribly. He darts through and makes it past... mostly. One reaches out to grip tightly around his wrist, and he jerks back when he reaches the end of its length, like a dog caught on a leash.]
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a dirt man appears for plant-related things
The carnivorous plants that rest on the shelves at each side of them as they walk through the greenhouse definitely do not seem innocuous.
One them curls a vine somewhat aggressively in their direction as they pass.]
To hell with this place.
[He says, pausing just long enough to let Gebura pass first.]
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We didn't expect any differently at this point, right? At least, I sure as hell didn't.
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The one squeezed loosens and retracts, and Weir is quick to unhitch his knife (stolen from a local kitchen -- nothing very impressive) and cut it away when it eases towards him instead. Seeming to understand the point, it curls away fully.]
Like prey walking straight into a trap, and knowingly, too.
[They still have a bunch of vines to walk under, which. Weir does not want to do. Gods.]
That's what it always feels like when one of these new places crop up.
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Which will happen either way.
[ A bit wearily. Let's keep walking, though now she's swatting vines away. ]
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[Mannequins, and now, what? Killer plants?
Weir makes a face at the vines draping above them. They reach and try to wrap around their limbs.]
Rush through this part. If we walk slowly, one of them's going to be a noose rather than a vine.
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[ She will absolutely call him out. You ain't slick, sir.
And she side-steps another vine with a grunt of annoyance. ]
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But you're doing so well, why would I take that away from you?
[He huffs. But fine. Perhaps it'll look a little silly, darting through a curtain of reaching vines, but he doesn't care terribly. He darts through and makes it past... mostly. One reaches out to grip tightly around his wrist, and he jerks back when he reaches the end of its length, like a dog caught on a leash.]
Shit.
[Time to hack away at it with his knife.]
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Does she?
Nope! ]
Pick up your feet!
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He cuts it free, at least, and the excess vine falls to the ground uselessly.]
Seems I'm a more tempting target than you.
[Fine, he's right behind her!]
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[ GEBURA, THAT'S MEAN. ]
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Someone's sharp-tongued today.
[Not that his pride withers under such evicerating words, but good gods.]
In a worse mood than usual for any reason in particular, or have the plants already gotten to you?
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[ Or maybe she's just sassy.
No, she's just tired of fighting people who have turned into monsters at this point. ]