Character opinions

What are your opinions on the kinds of work you do?

-Harvey: I don't. I'm paid handsomely to kill people. I don't need to let my thoughts stray any further than that. That's where problems start to arise.
-Michael: I have long and drawn-out inner monologues with myself about why I get my dreams and what drives me to prevent the events I see from coming to pass. Sometimes I think it's the only redeeming thing left that I can do, other times I feel like I'm just going through the motions because it's just what I'm used to now. The only thing I've managed to figure out for sure is that my own actions are always important whenever my premonitions are involved, even if I never know the reason why.
-Jonathan: The Dream Pattern is a vast place, full of many things to be discovered and applied to the waking world. My studies into the nature and workings of the Pattern and the potential discoveries therein are important to me, if not to anyone else. I'll readily dive into the place as often as I can in the same vein as a scientist hunkering down in his laboratory, for the Dream Pattern -is- my proverbial lab, and I have a great passion for the experiments I conduct within it.
However, I must note that I do not wish to lose myself within the dreams. Waking life is just as important to me, and though I am nothing special in the "real" world, I hardly wish to miss what my conscious days have to offer for me in favor of what the dreams provide. I firmly believe that a balance must be kept, and I don't see myself abandoning that belief anytime soon.

When fighting enemies to the death, what is your weapon of choice?

-Harvey: The tools of the trade; wits, magic and bullets. The second two are what keep the opponent down. The first is what keeps you alive.
Naturally, I've sharpened my skills with all three to a fine point.
-Michael: Depends on the fight and who it's with. Sometimes, all it takes is some good old-fashioned soupbones. Other times, you're not gonna win without a gun, a knife or a good spell. Knowing which one to use and when can make the difference between your own death and someone else's.
-Jonathan: I prefer not to fight if given the choice, but if said choice is no longer available, the strongest weapon I have at my disposal is my own mind. I have little doubt that one might find that statement to be a cliche or an empty platitude, but the truth behind it is nothing small. The power to outthink your opponent is often underestimated and very rarely taken advantage of.
Of course, in the Dream Pattern, things are much different. The power of one's mind manifests a bit more literally in that place...

Drug of choice?

-Harvey: Alcohol and cigarettes. Don't have room in my life for anything else.
-Michael: Depends on the week. Take your pick.
-Jonathan: I don't indulge in any. I've seen what they can do to a person, and I'm not of the opinion that they're worth that kind of baggage.

Opinion on going to bars?

-Harvey: I'm all for it whenever I've got the time. You'd be surprised at the kinds of friends and connections you can make at the local watering hole.
-Michael: You won't catch me dead in a bar unless I'm looking for somebody. They're a waste of my time and cash; anything I can find at a bar, I can find somewhere else for less money and aggravation.
-Jonathan: I go sometimes. I can admit it. I don't tend to make a habit out of it, though.

You've seen a drug den before. Tell me what it's like?

-Harvey: It's what hell looks like if you made it human. I said before that I don't have room in my life for anything more than alcohol and cigarettes, and heroin dens are the reason why. People who live in those hellholes live like animals; they eat and sleep in garbage and do all of their shitting wherever there -isn't- garbage. There's nowhere to settle, nowhere to bathe, nowhere to find any peace of mind. Walking into one is like walking into an insane person's head and closing yourself inside.
You'll never see a good looking drug spot. Doesn't matter which city or neighborhood it's in. You don't come to one of these places because they're good for you. You come to them because you have no more options left.
-Michael: I'll be the first to tell you that I'm not clean, and that I haven't been for some years. I'll also be the first to tell you that I'll sleep on the street before I catch myself staying in any crackhouse in the Bay Area again.
The worst tweaker pads are always fucked up beyond recognition. There's trash all over, even worse than in my own apartment, and most rooms'll have piss and shitmarks on the walls where some of the fiends decided to drop trow and let loose. And good luck sleeping in one, too; if there -is- a bed, it's "first come, first served", assuming you even care about sleeping on a mattress that's as ruined as the floor around it.
But the worst part? You're surrounded by people who're just as bad as you or worse. Dopefiends are the dirtiest fucking opportunists you'll ever meet, and I'm not just talking about the fact that half of them don't know how to wash their asses. You go to sleep in a crackhouse, and you run the risk of waking up with all your shit missing, including the clothes on your back. I don't have much left that I can take pride in, but I'm damn sure proud of the fact that I haven't devolved to the point of ripping people's pants off so I can try and sell them for a gram of the white stuff.
And that's the difference at the end of the day. I don't sleep in dopehouses because I'm not a dopefiend. I haven't let myself sink that far yet.
-Jonathan: I don't consider myself fortunate that I've seen the inside of a crack den. Truly told, I've seen alleys and junkyards more hospitable to the common man. To live in one of those places, where there's more waste (human and otherwise) than there is empty space and the owners see you as less than dogs, means you've sunk as low as you can possibly sink. And if there is a lower place to sink, then I shudder to think what worse conditions might await those who reach such a lower point.
What really wears at my soul when I see a drug house, however, is the deeper implication that comes with its dilapidation and ruin. The appearance of one, I've come to realize, reflects the inner minds of those who live in them. The destruction on the outside is analogous to the destruction wrought on the inside, the interpersonal havoc within every drug-addled soul manifesting itself throughout their surroundings. How else could a human being call such a place home?