Huh. Well, this is gonna be unexpected and weird as fuck for Hoffman. The man doesn’t know how to socialize at all, but he was intrigued by a certain gambler. Ace was a big talker, apparently to everyone. That’s not what troubled him. What made him actually troubled was the fact he dared to talk to him during a trial, now sure, sometimes survivor’s did so. But it wasn’t the casual mocking. It was genuine questions. Like if he was new here or how he was. He didn’t even know how the fuck he was! Let alone the last time someone asked him!
The point is, he was kinder than most, was it during looping? Mhm. Did Hoffman deadass stop mid loop because of how much it confused him? . . . Maybe, maybe not. But it was unusual. That had been awhile ago, but he was bored now and it hadn’t left his mind. So, better now than never...
Hoffie walked through the woods, just glancing around for the gambler, what was he gonna ask? Well, he didn’t know...what do you ask...that made Hoffman stop again. ‘Was this a waste of time?’ He asked himself mentally, crossing his arms, he didn’t even know if he was here. Ugh. Fuck it, he was gonna try and find out where he was but he was starting to doubt himself to the point he wanted to turn back. Honestly, he might turn back in a moment but...he had a small feeling of a presence nearby. That was odd. Hm...
There was a part of himself that took pride in the fact that no one really knew what he was thinking - a blankness behind the eyes. It had always been his greatest asset, a poker face masked as something genuine, just enough to throw someone off the scent as the gears in his head turned for a plan, another response, a joke, a smile. Gambling had always been about being one step ahead, of both your opponent and the debt collectors coming to knock at your door. And it was a policy that Ace had carried over with him, into the fog.
As spineless as he was, there was some part of him that had been curious about the killers in the fog - none more than a second pig-headed maniac, taller and wider than the first. Though he attacked and sacrificed with equal precision to his swine counterpart, he’d noticed something… odd about the man. Curious, the way he almost stopped when asked a question, unsure if he was really being acknowledged, like how people talk to one another. Probably hadn’t been able to get out much before the fog, being a skilled killer and all. Who was he to judge?
While Ace much preferred the warmth and safety of the campfire, along with his fellow survivors to talk himself up to (with mixed responses that he always got a kick out of), there were times when the coldness of the forest was nicer than the fire. A low whistling tune escaped him, as he pulled his glasses off of his face, moving his light jacket up his arm to rub the dust off of the lenses, before he put them on again and looked up to the sound of crunching leaves and twigs, freezing like a deer caught in headlights. Ah, shit. Something was here, and it was going to rip out his spine-
“...Oh, hey, you!” He recognised the tall form of the killer, vaguely, between the dark sunglasses he wore and the lack of natural light in the forest around him - it was more of a guesstimation based on the vague shape between the trees. “Lookin’ a little different without the pig getup, huh? Tryin’ somethin’ new?”
Huh. He recognized him quite easily. Not bad considering the dimmer lighting from forest and along with the shades making it even darker, so well done to Ace. Though, just from the small comments from Ace, it was obvious to him that he was a lot more extroverted. Was Hoffman a introvert and therefore would have a harder time talking to him? Yeah, but at the same time, it didn’t give him pressure to carry the conversation as much as he would if it was someone a lot more similar to him, more shy and quiet like him, so in a way...he was more relived.
Though, the pig get up, he didn’t...shit, he didn’t have the get up. He didn’t have that mask, now it may be a sign of comfort to him when he has it on, I mean, they don’t know what he looks like and don’t have the facial hinting of how he feels. He doesn’t have to hide anything because his face would be hidden and his voice is a little more muffled by the mask, making it harder to distinguish his tone. But without it...he was a normal man. His emotions are a lot more exposed, his identity was more or less exposed, and his personality would be a lot easier to decipher without that small bit of ‘protection.’
Well, too late now anyways, besides. He needs to learn how to live without it again. He’s wore it before, he’s taken it off, he’s the same. Sure his personality is a little easier to translate but hey, he’s hidden it well before, he’ll do it again. Time to stop using it as a crutch.
But anyways, time to focus on the social gambler. “A little different is a understatement in my opinion but sure. This isn’t new though, quite casual for me personally. Which brings me to a question. Uhm, why are you out here exactly? I’m...well, I’m personally glad that I don’t have to look for you but why exactly?” He crossed his arms as he stared down Ace, he was awkward and a tad bit cautious as usual but he was being reasonably good considering how he definitely could be and often is.
He shrugged. “You know how it is. Con someone out of a flashlight one too many times, and they start calling you a liar and a cheat and before you know it, there’s an argument breaking out and you have to dip before people remember who the real problem is.” An all too relatable experience, he was entirely sure (read for sarcasm). Ace laughed a little, moving his hands to the pockets of his jacket, spinning the ring on his finger with his thumb while doing so. He wasn’t… nervous, per se, but still… couldn’t help but get your heart racing staring into the face of a man who can, would, and probably should be killing you right now. Especially when you could see his eyes now, as opposed to before.
He seemed a lot less… intimidating, was the first thing he noticed. Sure, the dude was still just as tall and broad and could very easily snap Ace over his knee if he so chose, but there was a… weird awkwardness about him that took the edge off by a mile, maybe even two. Seemed to be out of place, among the living. That was endearing, at least a little bit - tough guy only knows the company of corpses over an actual person. Maybe that’s why he’d responded so weirdly to Ace before this… maybe that’s why it stuck out in this mind so much. The gambler moved to gently elbow the detective in a playful gesture. “What about you, eh, big guy? Can’t say you’d find anyone worth your time out here. ...Unless you were looking for me. ‘Cos I’m worth a lot more than that, heh.”
Hoffman just listened, that’s what he was, a listener. Never truly talked a lot for anything other than the occasional friend or to his family...mainly his only family. But his job? He may of asked questions but he mostly listened and examined, looking for errors, frauds, lies, discrepancies...anything like that. It was all listening rather than talking or answering questions. Ace seemed...unique. Mark- well, he couldn’t tell what it was that made it unique. Perhaps a mental mask that Ace used or something similar but he could tell that something was definitely unique about him.
Then again, wasn’t everyone here unique in some sort of way? Whether they killed, survived, endured, or anything else. Everyone was different...special in their own ways, maybe it’s because of the common tie they all have to this place or rather just their actions or words...it was something that caught his attention about everyone. He’ll think more on that later. He has to focus so he doesn’t start losing his intimation more than he already did with the human appearance.
”Eh, I just prefer to keep my space from most people here. Some of them are...hm...not a good way to describe it really but most killers hit me off oddly, aren’t my type of people, which there’s very few that are my type of people in general, or just would likely bite is anything came near. So, I guess I just wanted to get out of that environment for a bit.” He wasn’t lying, well, yet. That was soon to come. He inhaled before sighing gently, glancing off into the woods for a moment. “Well, there’s another reason. That being you.” He glanced back to Ace, his eyes narrowing as he put emphasis on why he’s out here. Because of him and his way of chatting even if the brief moments.
”Why talk to a killer when they stab you, harm you, and just make you suffer...you knew what happens when we get you, so why even make small talk..?” Even though the detective’s job was to figure out why things happen and why someone would do such things...he was conflicted and confused about it...
A hum of acknowledgement escaped him as he looked down and kicked his feet in the dirt and leaves he stood on - how odd, for a killer not to make home among other killers. Was it like some kind of hierarchy, ala the ones in the prisons? Not that Ace would know - he just barely dodged enough jail time to understand it. Then again, what was he comparing it to, the survivors at the campfire? That was like comparing an egg to the cake it was baked in - same substance, different flavour. One being welcoming, and sweet… the other being rotten, and slimy.
And then his head perked up, with a lazy smile. “Ah, me? Well, you shouldn’t have come out here just of little ol’ me… even if it’s worth it.” He chuckled a little, again shrugging his shoulders. He didn’t have to justify the man, or anyone, with an honest answer, but the vibe that he was getting told him that he wouldn’t leave without one that sounded at least close to the truth. So, here goes; “Why not, right? S’not like life is finite here… you should know that by now. Gut a fucker one trial, he comes back the next like a spring chicken in the slaughterhouse. If we’re gonna be here forever, might as well get to know each other… ‘course, I’m one of the only one’s who plays around like that. Others just try and keep their head down. Can’t blame ‘em, really. Guess I’m just not scared to die.”
“You’re not afraid to die...hm...” That stuck with him for a moment before finally he snapped himself back into this little conversation they were having. “So, you decide to chat to killers out of bravery or some shit despite it being very probable that your living in fear that they’ll come after you and rip you up limb from limb?” He questioned the man who played a act of confidence rather well. Interesting. Hoffman will likely be haunted by this question for a long time along with his answer. Not being afraid of death...Hoffman had determination to live through out everything life gave him, he hardly feared it even when he died. He was scared to see what would happen but to him...it was a relief to finally pass away. He was starving and aching before his death. It was painful and made him have a lot of despair.
Also made him realize how no matter what, John was always a step ahead. He seemed to know he’d fail him by trying to fill his need for control and to be a leader...that’s why the doctor was there right? I mean, why else? He lost control of himself and his need for control, revenge, all of those things that slowly built up a need for. He can’t say he doesn’t fear loosing himself like that again, but now? He does what he has to, rather it’s by his choice, manipulation from the Entity, or because he knows what he has to do no matter if he feels a lot of sympathy over it...he can’t hold back without losing in some way here. He hated it.
“Hm...what’s your name?” He asked out of the blue, perhaps his curiosity is shining here but...he just needed something new. He needed...a lot of things so perhaps actually knowing a survivor and having the male before him know he doesn’t truly do everything by his own choice and will can help him feel something new. Perhaps even make him feel better about himself and his choices. He doubted it but...he was just looking for hope. That’s all.
"Hey now, ain't that a bit of an unfair assessment. The campfire's more than a pretty light, you know. Think most of those guys are like... reverse moths or some shit, it's a safe place." He didn't want to think too hard about a slow and painful death, especially one he couldn't come back from... because, of course, he was lying out of his ass. When wasn't he? He was scared shitless of this place, of dying over and over again... he was a coward much more suited for hiding, testing his luck when he could and using it to the best of his advantage when he couldn't. If he was lucky (and he almost always was), he'd avoid the worst of it, and wind up on the other side, safe and secure. If not, well... it could have been worse. He could have been staring down the barrel of a gun. And no malevolent spider god would have brought him back from that.
He cocked an eyebrow. The killer really wanted to know him so well, did he? Well... he'd keep his cards close to his chest, for now - question for a question, answer for an answer, that kind of deal. Ace rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, before resting his feet on the dirt again, staring up at the killer. "...Ace. Ace Visconti. And you, big guy? You strike me as a, ah... Bruce. Maybe a Grant? Something... bold, scary. Makes you feel like a hissing cat. You've got the vibe, that... a cat would hiss at you, on the street. Might be the whole killer thing, though." It was a playful gesture, with the way he laughed a little, but quickly straightened his face with a cough. "Uh... no offence, of course."
Hoffman scrunched his nose up slightly at those names. Bruce wasn’t bad but Grant? Ugh, not a name he’d ever want. He maybe hate his first name and all but his mind scrolled through some names he’d rather not have (Grant now being added to that list) and he was suddenly a little more grateful for being named a decent enough name. His name was common, or well, basic as hell. He just...well, didn’t like it. We all have things we horribly dislike or disagree with, his name was something he didn’t like. On the bright side, there’s worse. Not much of a bright side but eh, whatever worked for him.
Though, the former detective just raised a brow at the ‘no offense’ part. I mean, a tad late for that but he still said it nonetheless. “Uh, yeah. Some offense taken.” He folded his arms with a small eyeroll. “Anyways, just call me Hoffman.” He stated, if Ace asked for a first name then he might answer, hard to say. Depends if he’s feeling nice. Though, there’s one thing that he definitely is starting to note, well, other than the fact Ace was likely nervous despite how much he doesn’t want to admit it. The other thing being that ‘big guy’ was a common name for him. Fair enough, he’s taller, (especially thanks to the Entity deciding to bless him with some extra height despite him already being tall enough.) bigger build, and his personality or well, that part of his personality he often showed was the cherry on top of his more intimidating appearance. Often worked well for him.
”Grant...that’s possibly the worst guess I’ve heard over the years.” He mumbled before looking at the man in shades. “Hm, I almost wanna see how horrible those guesses will get. So, if you wanna guess a first name then that’s a option for it to not be awkward silence and make it easier on you.” He had...more questions? More thoughts he’d like to know? Interesting, but then again, it’s to be expected from Hoffie. Old habits die hard. But anyways, most of this small talk was just Hoffman stalling before he starts asking questions and to likely avoid being asked many himself. Doesn’t like talking about himself. So he avoids it. Simple as that.
“Oh, ouch, only a surname? And here I thought we were gonna be best buds, Hoffman.” He smirked a little, cocking his head to one side like a curious dog. He wasn’t going to push for anything more, though - the man had nothing to hide here in the fog, but still, it was the security of secrets that may make the guy feel a bit better. And besides, he wasn’t stopping Ace from filling in the gaps himself - if anything, it seemed he was only encouraging the shenanigans. And he was one to take a chance to partake and shenanigans with open arms.
“Oi, what’s up with Grant? You’re lucky there ain’t a Grant here for me to tell that to. But sure, I’ve got a couple more guesses. Hm… Graham? No, that’s too old school… Richard, Dick for short, heh… maybe Mark? Markus? Names sure are interestin’ - so many, but you can only have one. Feel free to take any of those to make me feel better about being totally wrong.” A laugh escaped him, as he tried to ignore the shiver that overcame him from the silent wind passing through the trees. So weird, talking about names… he’d probably used half of these, and more, in his life, running from bad choices and worse friends - well, ‘friends’, ones who only wanted him for his money and his luck and not… whatever else he had to offer.
Ugh, Graham. Too similar to that FBI agent he fought with, Strahm, was it? His memories were a tad blurry at the moment, likely needed sleep sooner or later. He hadn’t slept in awhile and honestly, he didn’t like sleeping. Made him open for attack...damn it’s horrible. How paranoid he was. Looks, showing personality, showing any signs of emotion or weakness...it came hard for him, paranoid about it all. He hated how naturally it came to him but it’s how he was. All he knows how to do to defend himself here. The moment anyone knows something about him, the weaker he is. Or well, that’s how he saw it.
Besides that whole topic and his view on himself, he was honestly surprised that Ace guessed his name that easily. Then again, his name was very plain in his opinion, he didn’t want to change it but damn it’s a basic ass name. He tensed slightly once he guessed it, he was definitely a little bit surprised. Guess the gambler was luckier than he thought. “Hm, names always seem to be a weird thing. But I can tell you one thing, I would of belonged here much sooner if my parents named me Graham.” That was a joke...probably. He didn’t mind his parents, plus, he would’ve just gone by his surname or middle name. One of the two. Though, hard to say which one.
“So, uhm...” small awkward bit of him thinking of conversation. “Mm...tell me, favorite card game. I can only assume with that type of personality your a gambler...or in commercial...or cell cars. So, I’ll go with the one I’d prefer you to be, plus, with how much you take risks, it’d make sense for you to be a gambler.” He decided to start simple, trying to move on from the whole name thing. Might of spooked him away from that conversation once he got his name correct. “Also, to avoid even more awkward moments, don’t be scared to ask me questions in return. Makes it more informative and interesting, don't you think?”
A keen gambler’s eye caught that slight tension at the mention of Mark, thought Ace chose not to bring any attention to it for the sake of gloating in his success - keep things humble, and civil, at least for now. And besides, the guy was making jokes in return, playing along with the flow and keeping up despite the awkwardness he seemed to carry with him - more at home with blood and corpses like pigs (ha) in a slaughterhouse. That was enough to keep Ace happy to not be a shithead for now... at least, not any more than was natural to him.
“The one you’d prefer, huh? What are you, a cop?” Ace kept that slightly bemused expression he wore like a natural mask, leaning a shoulder against a nearby tree. That was both a throwaway statement as it was a question - it was just a vibe he was getting. The way the man carried himself, how he asked questions with an eye like a vulture, checking for any signs of vulnerability, of dishonesty… and it would certainly bring a hilarious amount of irony to the whole pig thing, too. That was the main reason Ace wanted it to be true. “And what if I’m not? I’ve been told I’m a good conman, could sell ice to Innuits with ease - and in abundance, too.”
But that soon wore its course after a few moments of silence, and so he dismissed the bit quickly. “Nah, you’re right - professional poker player by trade, though I go wherever my gut takes me. Guess which game I’m good at, huh? You get three guesses, and the first two don’t count.” There was a bit of a laugh at himself, but again, he quickly dismissed it, this time by reaching a hand out of his pocket to fix his hat, as he looked up at the killer. “Right. But this ain’t a job interview, dude - I’d say you already have the dream position. I can play along, if you’re strugglin’, but… relax a bit. Tell me about yourself. Any other hobbies besides killing and-or maiming?”
“Mhm, I’m a cop, not sure what else I’d be. But I’d rather have you be a gambler, better than a con artist in my opinion, but who am I to judge? Look what position I’m in here, can’t say I have room to judge even if I was a cop still.” He said as he shrugged his shoulders, thinking silently about the gambler. Ace, despite the outgoing and lighthearted personality, was obviously either nervous or a tad insecure in himself, could be both. He just couldn’t handle more than a moment than silence, he just quickly moved on when it happened. It was interesting, hell, reminded Hoffman of himself and how’d he likely be at the department.
Most of his conversations at the department were awkward hello’s, requests for his skills, (mostly about paperwork) and maybe if he was lucky the rare person who wanted a conversation. Kerry was someone who took him in at the beginning, he didn’t mind her at all and he was less awkward around her because of the fact she took him in and helped him without fail. Rigg was practically always hanging around him after his sister...mmm...Eric. Eric Matthews, not to say he didn’t find him interesting or admire him at all, but they didn’t get along well. Likely due to the differences in personality, not to discredit the guy, he was blunt and said what needed to be said. Always something to admire in someone.
But moving on from his thoughts about his coworkers and all of that. Time to actually focus on what Ace was saying, and needless to say, Hoffman was about to close off even more. It’s just...relaxing for him was a horribly hard thing for him to do. Considering he wasn’t so different from survivors, well, other them the whole role name and the fact he has the guts to actually make others practically become hanging pigs at a meat plant, it was intimidating to lighten up even for a moment around anyone. Probably why he often branched out to be alone in the realm.
But...was Ace truly a threat? Didn’t seem like a snitch considering his past to others is probably as blurry as the actual fog here. If he was a snitch, hell, hardly mattered, he’s the one who actually had power and some type of authority to them, not that he liked thinking that way considering of what happened last time. But the point is...it seemed safe. Maybe it was supposed to feel that way but it did. That’s what mattered to Hoffman, Ace seemed decent, not because of what small bit of power he has, not because of the possibilities, not because of his own skills, but because Ace seemed like a reasonable enough guy that wouldn’t judge too much...
“Hobbies...hm...didn’t truly have many that I kept up with, practically was always at work after awhile. But the rare case I did actually go do a hobby, it’d be paintball or maybe writing. Paintball was a major part of my highschool life and writing was just something I picked up over time to refresh myself from the damned thing we call paperwork. Though, same goes to you bud, what hobbies you like or did?”
You could practically see the gears turning in his brain as Hoffman fell silent, and Ace kept an eye on him, arms folded across his chest. What a weird guy. To think, for someone so scared of the killers here - and he was, but no one else had to know that - this is the one he would befriend. A good choice, all in all. If the dude wasn’t armed, and if Ace didn’t know any better, you’d think he was too scared of himself to harm a fly, let alone hook and murder innocent people as a job for the fog. Something dark must have lead him here, though. Something that made him perfect for that position… and for what little he knew about the smaller, angrier pig killer, the association surely wasn’t a coincidence.
He huffed a laugh, a small smile on his face. “Paintball, huh? Got a thing for the, uh, guns then? Don’t tell me that’s why you became a cop. ‘Cos I was almost starting to like you, Hoffman.” He bit his tongue from saying that now obvious first name, wanting to keep his head on his neck, in case the worst happened. Killers are killers, after all. Fixing his posture and rolling his shoulder slightly, Ace continued, moving his hand to fiddle with the ring on his finger. “Ah… does social drinking count? Playing cupid in run-down bars? No? Then I was pretty much married to the job. Not a hobby in sight. Too distracting, maybe even as distracting as me for others. There’s a reason I was a professional poker player, no?”
“Hm, well, I can tell you that I didn’t come a cop because I find interest in guns. There’s a different reason why.” He answered in question in a calm tone, thinking silently to himself about why. There was a reason why, that credit went to the respect of his dad despite his dad not being around often. What could he say, he was a war man, had to slip in and out before soon for good. But he had respect for his father, sure, he wasn’t around much but he spent his life defending and helping other. That definitely contributed to what Hoffman wanted to become...though, he soon trailed off of that dream once all hell broke loose with him.
“Hm, married to the job, fair point. We all get like that sometimes, hell, can’t say I wasn’t as well. Had nothing really to wait on so I just did what I had to.” He said with a small shrug, he wasn’t lying truly, he just left out some major and crucial details. Nothing to wait on, well, that part is mainly where those details were left out. He did have something to wait on, well, for a time period at least. His sister, once that whole ordeal happened, he didn’t have anything to wait on. He just worked to keep his mind busy and running, trying to avoid his thoughts to run freely about that situation...mmm...dark situations with him, wasn’t it? It always seemed to be a dark situation but hey, that’s just how his life treated him. Never seemed to be anything different other than taking from him and making him deal with loss of some kind. But that’s a another topic he’d prefer not to jump into.
”Though, sounds like it’s fitting for you thanks to the current name. Can’t say I’d believe that was your first name ever, but it still fits you nonetheless.” Hoffman knew how gamblers often worked, jumping from one pool to another until they’re broke and then jump into a whole new identity by itself when consequences came around. Quite a common thing truthfully, he’s seen it one too many times. “But moving on from that...hm, guess I’ll get to another reason why I came here.” He mumbled a little bit through that sentence, he could be well spoken, just had trouble with it. Besides, there isn’t a true reason for him to try to keep his voice even and not mumble a bit. He’ll live.
“So, Ace, out of pure curiosity, why keep that mask on? Everyone here is horrified on your side, in one way or another they lose hope and confidence here. It’s natural for everyone here...so why? Persona’s are hard to let down, but please, if I have to lighten up and relax...you can be honest. You don’t have to completely stop this whole...persona thing but at least tell me...is it similar to your true personality or tell me how your feeling. Your genuine feelings.” He stated, offering up some choices, Hoffman couldn’t lie if someone asked him if this the true reason why he was here. While it surely wasn’t anymore...it intrigued him. Always did. So, he offered Ace a choice, he wanted Ace to have a choice...he was a decent enough guy, he liked his personality and how he acted but...he questioned it still. That being said, that’s why he was offering a choice here instead of full on forcing him into one option.
“I’ll give you time to decide and how far you wanna go past it. After all, you definitely deserve that choice...you’re a decent guy, Ace. But I’m just wondering. I’ll move past this quickly for you. Maybe even offer you something in return.”