Neighborhood Watch
24712
THREADID
34
POSTS
11 - 20
DISPLAYED
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Dillon responds to Kassidy's enjoyment of the song by joining him, here and there. The Gangrel's husky rasp of a voice molds easily to Billy Gibbon's stylish growl, and is very un-Christine Daaé. Truth be told, he might even add some melodic pitch where Billy doesn't bother to.
The Gangrel's chin dips shallowly in time with the rhythm, glancing out to the river as they cross it.
"Like ZZ Top?" he asks, during a lyrical break. "Or just music in general?"
Travelin along... singin our song...
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"In General. I actually have a normal job as a late-night DJ at a local-ish station." He looks just a bit proud of that, even if his segment was short - just a few hours on one weeknight. He gave a grin, and fell back into humming - but not full singing. As enjoyable as it was, Kassidy wanted to leave an avenue open for conversation, should Dillon want to pursue the topic.
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"Oh really?" Dillon's friendly smirk is a little mischievous at learning that. Not for any particular reason, just in that way that one does when they're deciding on whether or not to embarrass a friend with flowery congratulations. "That's actually a perfect job for one of us.
"When's your time slot? And the station? I'd like to hear it, sometime."
While he's comfortable enough with speaking to public, and is long time fan of music, Dillon isn't sure he could attempt such a profession. For one, he's slacked off on his catalog of songs and artists over the last couple of decades. Maybe if it were a classic rock station, or segment, he could make do. Ironically, It's Martha that has helped introduce him to some of the newer stuff.
That and bouncing around Elysia like the Ember and Avalon.
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"Eleven to one on Wednesdays 95.1" Kassidy gave a satisfied smile to himself. "Definitely not needing a visible face has it's benefits. I'm always somewhat surprised that more of us don't have interest in getting into radio. Though I suppose that has more to do with keeping up with music?"
He tapped his chin and shrugged. He wouldn't deny that his segment had the largest range of music out there.
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There is a nod, while Dillon commits the time slot to memory. He seems equally satisfied with the arrangement, thus far. "That's perfect, actually. I'm generally patrolling that early into the evening on Wednesdays."
Except on alternating weeks. He tries hard not to fall into any patterns. And having a reason to take the car will help him avoid a pattern of patrolling in animal forms, as well.
"Even if I'm not, I can find a radio, somewhere." ...Revealing that no one has told this poor old vampire about AM/FM apps available for that beaten-up smartphone in his pocket.
By now, they have left the freeway again, driving by a commercial block with several retail businesses, and a hotel that he distinctly remembers busting Allison Black 'illegally' making Haven. Well, it wasn't a real Haven, not in a hotel, but it was an amusing moment, nonetheless.
"Welcome to Valencia," he announces with playful drollness. "Shopping centers, parks, and suburbs, far as the eye can see."
A beat.
"Soccer moms are good eatin', I promise."
He's probably joking about the soccer moms. Probably.
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Kassidy arched his eyebrows at Dillon's comment about finding a radio. "Hmm. Is your phone one of those only good for texting and calling?" He pulled out his own phone and looked through the apps on it. He tended not to have a radio app, since he was more likely to trawl through his music library to create a playlist for the next time slot than listen to other stations. After a moment, he figured it was best to put it away, just in time for Dillon's crack about soccer moms.
It sent him into convulsive giggles. "Better than the weary travelers from the Airport, I would guess. The Airport is in this area isn't it? And that Sports arena." he straightened in the seat, looking out the windows with greater alertness.
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Bump? I know you're busy, should we figure out how to close this up?
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Dillon raises an eyebrow, as he doesn't immediately catch the reason for the question about his phone. Reaching in his pocket without looking, he pulls out the device and gives it a little absent wave before placing it on the center of the couch seat between them. "Well, no. It's a beaten up and outdated iPhone. Poor thing should probably be put out of its misery."
Indeed. Though the screen protecting film has been left on to try and preserve the newness of some part of the thing, it is scratched and peeling at the edges. The casing itself is scraped and dinged in every way imaginable. Including two deep, evenly-spaced trenches on both of the phone's long sides. They are marks of repeated pressure, possibly identifiable as teeth marks.
As though this device is regularly carried around in the jaws of a large, powerful animal that's trying very hard not to crush it...
Nodding again at Kassidy's grasp of geography, Dillon continues. "Yeah, the 'big' airport. Out by the Domain's northwest border. Remember, there's also the one in the Communal Zone; Rio Linda. I used to make Haven near there, before coming to Valencia.
"I gather that quite a few Kindred stay down by The Rack in the Communal Zone. Even if they aren't permitted to hunt within the boundaries downtown, hunting nearby can be almost as good. A Haven as far away from that as possible seemed to make sense."
Little point in keeping the secret now, he thinks. Not having been anywhere near the dorm house of college students he rented a basement in for several months. It had been a perfect arrangement. The only oddity of suspicion that had come from the other students in the building was that no one ever spotted Dillon up in the kitchen using the microwave.
OOC
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Kassidy gently picks it up to inspect it. The tranches catch his eye immediately and distract him form his original purpose. He couldn't recognize the teeth marks - but he did understand Protean from Watching Efraim change forms. They just emphasized how powerful the man in the driver's seat was on his own. "Ah, there's a few different applications that would allow you to listen to radio stations through your phone." The feminine black man set the phone back onto the bench seat, instead of browsing through app options like he'd initially been intending.
Somehow, the idea of playing with the phone of someone who could turn into a creature with very big teeth seemed like a bad idea.
Kassidy hummed in agreement. "I actually think the Apartment I'm sharing with Catherine is closer to Citrus Heights? Though she's recently gotten permission to move down to Florin, so I suppose it will be just mine soon..." Well, his main haven and Catherine's Bolt-hole. He should really upgrade the locks to reflect that.
"She has a similar arrangement as me, only with the stipulation that until she's capable of fighting on her own, I'll be with her on her patrols."
OOC
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There is a similar noise - somewhere between a murmur and a grunt - of agreement from within Dillon, but at Kassidy's last statement. "Catherine Keyes... Bruce Lee she most certainly is not."
It's said with a measure of quiet, a twitch of the corner of the Gangrel's mouth revealing that he's trying not to smile about it. It's not Cat's fault after all. Even with a potential eternity stretched out in front of them all, some Kindred learn different subjects with different levels of dedication. And thanks to the Blood, one need not necessarily learn violence to prosper among a world of horrors.
"I keep forgetting about the entire catalog of applications and features those things are capable of," Dillon says with a glance down to the battered phone lying in the seat between them. Then back to the road, taking them on a casual and lazy tour straight through the middle of Valencia. "Or even that I could probably get some idea of the broader spectrum of the possibilities by running a Google search on it."
Possibilities.
He shakes his chin once. Technology and progress in his younger days were slow, prodding (if relentless and tenacious) marches. Where possibilities seemed endless, but stretched out endlessly into the future.
These nights, it is a breakneck run. Where possibilities are implemented as soon as they are imagined. As much as Dillon likes to keep his finger on the pulse of movements of modern society and culture, such things threaten to leave him behind.
"Meanwhile, I'm still reeling from the fact that I can send pictures of the Sacramento night to my centuries-old Sire while she travels across the country."
Video, too, as long as he's careful not to get himself into the image. There's your double-edged sword.
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