Log 1

[mayfield_mods]

Who: Everyone (General Log)
What: Make yourself at home.
Where: A new town
When: The first day

Comments

[cursedtolive]

I believe in demons and immortality so I think superstitions are plausible.

[justdumbluck]

But we've seen both of those in action, superstitions just make no sense.

[Which is exactly what he would have said about demons and immortality if asked before 1930.]

[ooc: Sorry for these being so late! :(]

[cursedtolive]

And where's your proof that superstitions can't be real? Why do you think superstitions even exist in the first place!

[[hey no worries! there's no rush, so take whatever time you need ♥]]

[justdumbluck]

How am I supposed to know? People just make things up.

[[Thank you! <3]]

[cursedtolive]

Where there's smoke, there's fire!

[justdumbluck]

That's got nothin; to do with what we're talkin' about! You can't just use a saying and be right!

[cursedtolive]

That was a perfectly placed saying!

[justdumbluck]

I'm just sayin' it doesn't actually prove your point! Gimme one example of a superstition that's got anything real to back it up.

[cursedtolive]

... Um.

[He blinks.]

[justdumbluck]

[And Firo blinks back. Despite asking the question as a challenge, a part of him expected Czes to fire right back with an example that he'd have to scramble to refute.]

...What?

[cursedtolive]

... I'm too lazy to think of anything.

[He turns back to the rest of the garage with a huff!]

[justdumbluck]

Too lazy? That's no excuse!

[He folds his arms and stares after Czes; nobody's ended an argument with him like that before.]

Then that means I win, right?

[cursedtolive]

No.

You're not allowed to win.

[justdumbluck]

What? What the hell does that mean?

[cursedtolive]

It means exactly what I said. You're not allowed to win.

[justdumbluck]

You can't just say that! It's an argument; the person who's right wins!

[cursedtolive]

Yeah and you're not right, do you don't win.

[justdumbluck]

But you can't prove me wrong, so that makes me right!

[He swings out his arm to punctuate his point, nearly spilling the paint as he does so.]

[cursedtolive]

... That's not the way it works, Firo. You're gonna spill the paint.

[justdumbluck]

But that is-! Huh?

[Oops. Just going to discretely set that down now.]

I'm still right.

[cursedtolive]

No you're not.

You're just not.

[justdumbluck]

I'm not listenin' to you until you come up with a good reason.

[Harumph!]

...You done over there? We could get started on this sign.

[cursedtolive]

If you're not gonna listen to me, why're you asking me a question? Yeah, I'm done.

[justdumbluck]

I meant--!

[Czes has him there, so he breaks off with an angry sigh. He stoops down to grope in the spot where he picked up the paint can, eventually finding a brush. It's a bit wide for the precise task of writing, but it'll do.]

Okay, fine. Whatever. I'll get stated on this. We probably just need both of our names, if it'll all fit.

[The board isn't too big, a few inches longer than Firo's forearm and about as tall as the length of his hand.]

[cursedtolive]

[He snickers in mirth as he walks back over to Firo and examines the board.]

Well, both our names can be short so I'm sure it'll fit if we write small enough!