Pandemic Roleplay

Once he'd picked nearly more berries than he could hold, Moby shrugged off his pack, opening it with one hand and dumping the berries in. He went back to gathering after pushing up his glasses (one of the lenses was now printed with juice), finding an especially ripe berry and holding it out to Viola. "C'mon, you gotta try one."

"You've never had fresh blackberries?" Moby shook his head. "I've eaten a lot of dirty city food over the years, but I never passed up the chance of berries once I moved out to the post office. I think life was better there in general. Maybe." His hand slowed as he was reaching for another berry, suddenly deep in thought. "But, anyway..." he continued, plucking the small fruit from its vine. "I think this is better than even the post office."

"Well, um... I guess that depends," Moby answered, suddenly becoming a bit more anxious. "Do you mean the city I was born in, or the city I was living in when you met me?" He kept picking berries, but frowned slightly as he did so. Could he even tell her about this? Truthfully, he didn't even know why he'd mentioned the first city he'd lived in. He shouldn't have. It would've made things so much simpler.

Moby stopped picking, and putting the berries he had into his pack, he sat down in the grass. Thoughtfully, he watched Viola with the flowers. "Well," he started eventually, "I lived in that old post office for maybe two years, I think. I probably mentioned that yesterday. It was alright, I guess. Living on the outskirts of the city had its pros and cons. It was harder to get food and supplies from downtown, but it distanced me from everyone trying to hurt me."

He paused, staring at her hands as they worked with the stems. Did he trust her enough to tell her everything? Maybe not everything... But Moby hesitated to launch into his stupid sob story. So instead, he answered evasively, "I dunno... I mean, I was living in the city I was born in. I was surviving, that's all."

"With no real stable government or anything, no one would've been able to even locate any of my relatives. As for how I survived, I snuck around, stole food, raided corner stores. Did whatever I could, really. I slept behind an old 7-Eleven. Very classy, I know. I mean... I wasn't exactly alone, but..." Moby shifted uncomfortably, lowering his gaze. Part of him pleaded that she wouldn't question him further, but the other part almost hoped she would.

Moby glanced upwards, a little flustered and very confused. She made me a...flower thing? He reached up to touch it gingerly. "Yeah, actually... H-how'd you know?"

He sighed, resting a hand on the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was with a gang for a while. Six or so years. I joined when I was young. Probably not even quite ten, I guess." Moby hugged his knees to his chest, pressing his face into his jeans and staring down at the forest floor. "I dunno... They promised me a family... How could I have turned that down?" he mumbled softly.

He froze, quite unsure of what to do in this situation. He couldn't exactly remember the last time he'd been hugged without sugared words trying to convince him to do something or other. And it had never been like this. He'd never felt unusually safe like this. The novelty freaked him out a little. "It's, um... It's okay," Moby said lamely.