Glencoe Park
The sun has been down for a little while and the population of the park is dwindling. Wit has been here for around half an hour, handing out fliers with Hope's picture on them and his cell number in case anyone should spot her. Her basic information is listed as well as places she frequently went. There's a mantra he repeats to himself under his breath as he smokes a cigarette and hands passerbys the fliers. "It's for Rose, it's for Rose, it's for Rose…" He offers the fliers to a family who has just departed from a day of fun in the borderline weather. They mutter about how sad it is, but keep on going. No bites yet, except for a few people asking if she dances at the Kitty Cat Club on the highway and someone wanting to know if Wit had accepted Jesus as his personal savior. Luckily for Wit, the night is still mostly young.
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Young nights are the bestest of best times for bunny hunting! Upon waking up at the Hotel where she's got her rocking theatrical MTV screen, and a nice cushy bed — unlike her previous places that she's crashed — Ronnie rushes out to the parks. Tonight is no different though for once she's actually got a more subdued outfit on than normal. A sleeveless black jumpsuit that goes down to her knees, a lacy black overhshirt, a fluffy green skirt with a black lace overlay, green slouchy socks and a pair of roller skates.
"Life is a mystery! Everyone one must stand alone… the bunnies call my name, and I'll feed from hooooome~!"
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Wit is probably not as tasty as a rabbit. Not with all of the drugs he imbibes and the cancer stick jutting from his lips. He takes a long puff of his cigarette before moving to stub it out. As Ronnie walks past, he moves towards her a little jerkily. "Heya, miss! I got a flier here maybe you could have a look-see at. A friend of mine is missing and her family's super worried…" He offers Ronnie the flier and eyes her attire for a long moment before a slight smile of appreciation crops up on his features. The song she was singing seems to have gone by the wayside at the moment. He's off in his own little world, mostly.
~
Nothing is as tasty as a bunny. TrueBlood comes close, but even that? Well it only tastes good cold. She's already had a few bottles, but her bunny hutch was sadly empty and so she needs to find more hoppy little fiends to feed from. Her bastardized version of Madonna gets interrupted when there's a paper shoved under her nose. Her basket whips upward to snap against the paper, and she's able to stop herself from skating on by. "Wouldn't it like, be way better to actually be out looking for someone rather than hand out papers on the green day?" Scratching the back of her head, the vampire peers at the picture. "I've totally seen her before. In the paper or something. She doesn't like me."
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"Doesn't like you? Do you know her?" Wit asks with a skeptical brow. He can hardly see Hope associating with someone like Ronnie — it's only by chance that he ended up associating with the more prim, proper Tyler sister in the first place anyway. He lets out a little bit of a sigh. "Well, you'd think so. But Dallas is an awfully big place to look around for one itty bitty girl like her. Maybe these'll be more effective. Besides, the cops get a little peeved if you step on their toes too much. This is what they'd tell me to do if I wanted to help out anyhow." Not to mention the fact that due typecasting, Wit would probably be a suspect. Cocaine-addled tattooed punk fits the description of many delinquents. "Sorry for disrespecting the Earth or whatever. But we all gotta die someday. The Earth'll be gone before any of us ever will." It doesn't seem he's caught onto the fact that Ronnie's a bit ashen.
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"Only like, what I totally read in the paper. I mean, she had brighter hair and stuff." Ronnie snags the piece of paper and skates a circle around him, nearly hitting him with her basket. "But she's like one'a them sunshine types. They don't like me." The crazy vampire doesn't seem to know more than that though. "You haven't like, seen any bunnies hopping by here have you? I'm totally looking for some evil to smite. Sunshines make me angry, and anger makes me hungry, and I could like totally go for a bunny if you've seen one." She cocks her head to the side. "Already totally dead."
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Wit catches onto the deadness after she mentions bunnies. He doesn't peg her for a hillbilly who is really into roadkill or summat, though he's heard stories about Texans in general. "Oh. Sorry then." He lets out another dejected sigh and slumps in place. Underneath his apathetic attitude, there's the slightest bit of worry. He takes in a breath and then tilts his head at Ronnie. "Well, some people are just uptight about vamps." IE: It's not my problem, crazy lady. He glances to her before letting out a quiet laugh. "I haven't seen any rabbits. Maybe you should leave traps."
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"Traps'll kill'em. They're only good fresh, otherwise the evil escapes." And the whole entire point of eating the bunnies is to clear them of their sins. "What's there to like, be sorry about? I can totally like, party all the time and never be hungover again. It's great!" The downside is she thinks it's 1985, so there's that, one could suppose. "Some vampires are like, totally uptight too, dude. Wil Wheaton is way uptight. I mean, like totally." She skates around him again, ignoring personal space. "Don't worry, I totally won't eat you. You taste like swamp, and Jannie'd say you're too orange. Way too orange. Too much orange to be rad!"
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The assertion of what Wit tastes like brings a raise brow from him, and a face that could best be described as scrunched. He reaches up to comb some of the hair out of his face before watching Ronnie skate to her stillborn heart's content. "I don't know if I taste like swamp, but…" He waves a hand dismissively to this assertion. "I suppose that it must have it's downsides. Like no hangovers. But how do you even party or get high or whatever? Isn't it a bit… I don't know, anticlimactic?" He asks, handing someone another flier as they walk by. They have the decency to throw it in the trash at least, rather than on the ground.
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"You do. All humans taste like swamp. You like, have totally yechy blood. It's like, a blood barf-o-rama." Ronnie's cute little vampiric nose wrinkles upward and she points her index finger at her mouth as though she's going to force herself to gag. "No way! I mean, you can totally get buzzed on swampy-blood that's got substances in it." Ronnie, the stuck-in-the-80's vamp, is apparently just high on life. "You'd like, have better luck putting posters up all over the place. They had to do that for me once. I like, totally got lost last year. Rob Lowe didn't like me wandering off. Probably like, shouldn't here either. Wil Wheaton might like, get way made, and dude? That dude is just totally not to be trifled with. He takes away my MTV!"
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"Oh." Wit simply says. He had mistakenly thought she was referring to the drugs in his system… vampires can totally smell that, right? The notion makes him quirk his brow once more before nodding to her information. "You know Rob Lowe and Wil Wheaton personally? They're kind of has-beens," he remarks idly. "Sorry that Wil Wheaton is such a dick. Maybe he's still bitter after that whole Wesley Crusher thing." This brings him a quiet laugh. And the stark realization that he's owned up to being a Trekkie in some capacity, which makes him blush faintly. "You're right, I should save some of these and staple them around, eh? But there are laws. Like you can't staple phone poles. Not that it ever keeps people from doing that. Oh well. I'll find a stapler."
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"Wesley whossat?" Ronnie seems focused on those names. "Oh, no! See, like Rob Lowe? He's the total dick. A dickhead even. Pure penis." Stoutnod. Skating in another circle around him, still narrowly missing him with the basket, she shrugs. "But I like, so totally don't know anyone named Wesley. Is he the new King or something?" It takes her a moment to realize what she's said and when she does she squeaks, "Like Elvis. I totally mean like Elvis." There. Nice save on her part.
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The young lad seems to be a little uncomfortable with talk of penis flowing so freely from Ronnie's mouth, though he's also amused. "No, I don't think Wesley is the king. He's just this guy that everyone hates." Wit doesn't seem too troubled that Ronnie might collide into him. Worse has happened to him in his short 18 years, though not by a damned lot. "Sorry that Rob Lowe is a dick then. How did you get to be so chummy with all these people anyway? Once I almost met Oasis, but my girlfriend was sick so I had to take her home."
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"What's an oasis?" Ronnie doesn't get it. If it's not from the 80's? She's got no clue. "Oh, they ship me off, you see. I'm generally not in one place for very long. I tend to like, make people really angry. I'll be totally shipped off again soon, I'm sure. I mean, 'cuz I already know that the dude-man, Wil Wheaton? He totally hates me. He's just like humoring me or something. I mean, he wants me to wear dresses." Proper dresses even. Horrible, horrible things with bows and frills — that are yes, much different than her bows and frills. "Like, whatever though, right? Rob Lowe can be a total penis-face. I don't have to put up with him any more. That's like, why I'm here looking for bunnies. You haven't like, seen any, right?" Another whirl around him, though this time she's twirling up into a skating spin, ending with her leg extended behind her as she circles him again.
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Penis-face. Wit blinks a few times, his eyelashes batting before he shakes his head and laughs. "No. I haven't seen any rabbits. Didn't you ask that?" He doesn't seem too annoyed by her repetitive questions. He frowns a bit. "He shouldn't be able to tell you what to wear and what not to wear. I'm sure you're hardly a child." As for making people angry? He doesn't offer up any argument there. He can see how the skating, rabbit-obsessed girl might get on people's nerves. Though for the time being, he's enjoying his conversation with her. "Sorry that you get shipped off. That must suck. Like going to a bunch of military schools or something."
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"I'm only 18!" Which is true, if this were still the year she died. "But like, moving around isn't a huge deal or nothing. I used to do it all the time. Tour here. Bus there. Shopping malls across the nation!" Which nation is hard to tell. There's no doubt aboot it, her Canadian accent is no longer existent. "So like, no bunnies? Well that blows. I'm totally not in the right park. I think I saw Coco at the other park, that's where the bunnies were. Only I can't like, remember how to get to the other park. I guess I'll like, find it some other time." Shoulders shrug upward. "Well it's like, he's totally my guardian, right? So like, Wil Wheaton, he wants me to be presentable and not embarrass him. 'cuz I mean, I like totally embarrass everyone. At least I'm not wearing fuchsia!"
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Wit's not a stranger to past decades of music. Eventually some recognition dawns on your face. He laughs a little bit. "Oh. You're ah… what the Hell's your name? My brother was nuts about you when we were kids. He had this poster of you…" Wit trails off there. He glances to Ronnie's clothing and color choices, having to peer through the quickly darkening night. "Fuschia. I don't know, you could probably pull it off. With a lot of black, of course. Maybe some fuschia tights." He shrugs his shoulders a little bit and peers up toward the moon briefly. "Damn. I should get going before Rose starts to worry. She'll have my head on a pike." He doesn't bother to ask her who Coco is, although he does take a pen out of his pocket and move over to a tree, beginning to draw a map of the other park for Ronnie.
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"Ronnie." Well that's her name now anyway. "A poster of me? Oh, rockin'!" Stopping skating around, she peers at him. Wait, someone remembers her? For a long moment, she's not sure at all what to do. She just sort of stares, as though completely at a loss. "Huh? Oh, like totally. I can pull it off, but I like, don't wear it. It makes people even more angry." It doesn't, really, but that's her excuse for not wearing the pinks tonight. "OoOh, is like, Rose your girlfriend or something? I mean, yeah, that's totally cool." He's moving away, and she starts to skate off. Only to realize she flung her basket somewhere without realizing. Zooming back for it, she finds it and then looks at him. "Don't suppose you know where the Corey Heart is tonight?"
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The question about Rose being his girlfriend makes him flush for a moment. "She's a friend and she's a girl, but I wouldn't go so far as to call her a girlfriend. I think she's already got a boyfriend anyway." It's said with a certain amount of bitterness, but it's washed away by Wit handing over the map. He used enough of them upon arriving in Dallas to be able to map out the parks rather well — though his drawing skills are subpar. "Corey Hart…? I don't know him, sorry. I'll let you know if I see him."
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"Yooooou have a girlfriend, yoooou have a girlfriend!" Ronnie skates around the tree, having difficulties with the grass. "Corey Heart! He wears his sunglasses at night!" The ones she gave him. Swoooooon~! "It's okay. You'll like, totally know him if you see him. He's way dreamy for a Corey. And he wears sunglasses." Beat. "At night!" Snatching the map she grins. "This is like totally cool of you, dude. I'm going to go bunny hunting, but if I see your sunshine friend, I'll like, totally tell her you're looking for her." That will go over well. 'Hey sunshine friend, dude in the park is like, looking for you'.
