"They'd happen every...four years maybe? Five? Not that often."
His hand trails up to the elbow of the prosthesis.
"It's how we got most of our stuff besides food and water. They'd pile up all the crap the Front didn't want anymore and send it back. None of the good stuff -- I mean shit like tin cans and busted toys. And," his mouth takes on the bitter twist she's seen before, "they always handed it over like it was this gigantic gift from Wilford the Divine."
(The worst part: after having next to nothing for so long, those scraps were a gift.)
"Anyway, that's how we made fake arms and legs for people. Gilliam had an umbrella hook and a...I don't know, I think it was a chair leg."
no subject
His hand trails up to the elbow of the prosthesis.
"It's how we got most of our stuff besides food and water. They'd pile up all the crap the Front didn't want anymore and send it back. None of the good stuff -- I mean shit like tin cans and busted toys. And," his mouth takes on the bitter twist she's seen before, "they always handed it over like it was this gigantic gift from Wilford the Divine."
(The worst part: after having next to nothing for so long, those scraps were a gift.)
"Anyway, that's how we made fake arms and legs for people. Gilliam had an umbrella hook and a...I don't know, I think it was a chair leg."