dualislogs | i've been bitten by the bug ...

i've been bitten by the bug ...

WHO: Open to all residents
WHAT: Inoculation Season, plus your regular monthly NAPs session
WHERE: Throughout the city, with NAPs held at The Ax Hole.
WHEN: Sept. 10-30 for plague shots and associated side effects; Sept. 10-14 for NAPs
WARNINGS: Please use if applicable!

So tell me, what do you prescribe for these symptoms?

Remember that awful plague that wiped out the city's entire original population? You know, the entire reason you've been brought here? Well, the medical science community of Dualis has been hard at work concocting a cure for as long as anyone can remember, with minimal results. But during the morning of the 10th, news of a breakthrough is announced is a special city-wide bulletin. All media channels are overtaken with this message, and alerts hit every citizen's phone. The best part? Science needs your help!

There's no formal approval process for new vaccines and medications, just a series of volunteer trials before it's determined whether what's being tested is effective. All residents are invited to participate in these trials, with a bonus of 200 extra duos as compensation for their time and possible suffering. Simply head down to your nearest MedDualis clinic and inform the MedDroids supervising that you're reporting for your civic duty. Participants will be given a quick, easy, and practically painless inoculation shot in the arm, and will walk out the door 200 duos richer. Neat, huh?

Participants will be warned that like all experimental drugs, there may be side effects. A non-comprehensive list of those possible side effects includes: minor appearance changes (hair/skin/eye color), enhancing or reducing senses (smell, taste, hearing, sight, etc.), sudden mild development of extranormal abilities (telepathy, super strength, super speed, etc.), the ability to share dreams (if you're not tired of that sorta thing after last month), and/or loss of control over abilities you already possess, or those abilities misfiring. Hey, at least death isn't included on this list!

Any intrepid Dualizen who comes down with a case of weirdness as a result of doing their civic duty will find that weirdness will wear off by the end of the month. The Head thanks you for your sacrifice!

Don't you feel the fever like I do?

Look at all of these bright, shining new faces! There’s even a few less bright, less shining faces - maybe even a few folks without faces - but hey, this city welcomes all types. Chances are, if you’ve just arrived, you're seeing some pretty crazy things, unless you're used to an eye-blinding amount of neon, robots, weird-ass technology, magic, and an omnipresent police force...and hey, if you are, congrats, you're gonna settle in juuuuust fine. But for the rest of you, the Head knows this has gotta be pretty overwhelming, right?

Well, since your quaint individual processing units are probably having a hard time, why not link up with another one? By which the Head means...

Hello, new citizens of Dualis,
and welcome to your monthly Network Adjacency Protocol~!

NAPs are a monthly community networking event similar to the Earth concept of speed dating! Two citizens (new arrivals and old hands alike) are placed at a table together with a handy cue card of queries to help break the proverbial ice. Ask queries and receive results, or ignore the card and yeet yourself straight into a brand new friendship! But don't be too shy, you've only got ten minutes together, and if you just sit in silence for the whole ten, the Network Admins are likely to come supervise and try to repair the uplink through a mild shock to the ol' central nervous system. You might find yourself saying all sorts of unintended facts about yourself if that happens...probably better to just make friends, right? Who doesn’t like friends?!

This month’s event is held at an exciting new establishment called The Ax Hole! The 'Hole is an indoor ax-throwing range plus bar plus mid-price grill-type restaurant, the first of its kind to find a home here in Dualis. You must be at least 18 to drink and/or throw axes, and if you are throwing axes, there is a limit of one drink per hour. The bartenders are very strict about enforcing this rule, and employees are available to give safety instructions on proper ax-throwing technique and supervise activities.

This is a family-friendly establishment, so anyone under 18 is welcome in the restaurant section and the viewing room between the restaurant and range to watch the ax-throwing action, but they are absolutely not allowed inside the range, even just to watch. In fact, anyone who wishes admittance to the range must sign a waiver stating that they understand the risks of participating and agree to hold the Ax Hole free of liability in the event of any accidents that cause injury or death.

If that hasn't scared you off yet, come on down and meet your new neighbors! Oh, and do try to exit with at least as many fingers and limbs as when you entered, OK?

Threaded | Flat

Arkady was used to weird looks and strange murmurings. Back in Whitechapel she got them a lot, especially the last few times she had been to the market. It wasn't like she really tried to make herself less outwardly odd. One could even say she leaned in the opposite direction with her bald hair, purple eyes, and see through skirt. This place was different though, it was weird like her. There was something else in it too. A thing she hadn't placed yet but it was there pinching in the back of her mind. Or at least she thought it was there. Maybe it wasn't there.

She'd have to think on that more. Not now though. Now was this and nows were important to keep track of. Besides this speed meeting thing sounded fun! Friends were good and (not that she would admit it) she was kinda lonely. There was never a time where the FreakAngels weren't together or connected. Very little frightened her, but deep down not having them was sad.

So she came and if someone was paying attention they might notice that sometimes she was one place and then suddenly another. Teleportation was one of the better things she'd taught herself. Eventually she gave the ax throwing a try. She had a childlike excitement about the simple act of throwing an ax. Despite her frail frame she threw it perfectly with what might be a surprising amount of force. Spoiler: she cheated with telekinesis. Then she clapped for herself. She wished the others were here to do this with her.

When she sat down for the questions she threw out the questions they were given.

"What's the best thing about your world?" Anyone sat down with her would get that question paired with an eager looking expression. It was best to start out new friendships with something positive, right?

[ ooc: do whatever! run into her doing ax things, teleporting, or trying to get everyone to spread the wonders of ~~fake~~ positive thinking. ]

OTA

Hank shows up a little more willingly this time, because he's curious mostly. What sort of establishment is an ax throwing place? Well... besides the fucking obvious that it's somewhere where people throw axes. This like, where lumberjacks find dates or something? Some Last of the Mohicans wannabe white boys wander in and show their chops?

He's glad his mind is emptier now, less full of memories that aren't his, but now that gap in thought is replaced by utter confusion as he drinks his beer and watches people chuck big heavy blades rather than pay all that much attention to the cards or inquiries.

"Just waiting for some lovechild of Paul Bunyan and William Tell to fuckin' plant their ax in a drunk volunteer's forehead." Thank god for Dualis healthcare.

He checks his phone to make sure he has some medical people on speed-dial. Seems like a good idea at the moment.

Closed to Connor

Hank takes a break between conversations to go see Connor, because sometimes you get tired of people you don't know. His lack of socialization for three fuckin' years had withered his tolerance. Figures. Social butterfly is back to being a scrubby grub.

But he's happy to take his beer over to watch Connor, taking a swig and eyeing him.

"Show me what you got." He nods to the ax, unknowingly sealing a future fate for himself he doesn't really want. But, come on, Connor puts on a good show when he wants to. He likes seeing this twink surprise people.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone you're underage." He scoffs. To the man that can't drink, only lick.

Closed to MandM

Since Connor told him about the memory of the old disease, that plague, he has been thinking that, maybe, they might not have the right type of research going on into it yet. He's got a lot of things to consider about it, and you know what? He knows about fuck all and next to nothing about antivirus research.

But Morbius? The fuckin' Nine Inch Nails semi-fake-out-vampire blood doctor? Probably does. And if they're working on vaccines at the moment it seems like a great time to discuss this shit with him.

Eventually, he finds his way over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

NAPS

Naminé was naturally curious and she wanted to get to know the people that she would be living with for the next year or so. She was a little uncertain but she rarely let that anxiousness get in the way of her determination. She participated in the event itself, meeting and speaking to new people, but she could answer very few questions and ended up being the recipient of mild electric shocks whenever she paused too long.

When that became too much she could be found hoovering around the viewing area of the ax throwing competition. She'd seen a lot of combat during her short life but she'd never seen anything quite like this.

"What is the point of the game?" She asked, not knowing if anyone was there to answer her innocent and odd questions.

INJECTION
[ooc/content warning: feel free to run into her right after the shot or after the affects kick in. she does cut her hand so cw for light blood and sickness just so people know.]

Naminé jumped at the chance to help. It's all she's wanted to do and she didn't really think about the consequences even as the possible side effects were rattled off to her.

She should have been warned or watch.

The injection didn't hurt but over the next few days Naminé began to feel off. It was worse on the 20th. She'd been walking through the park to the cafe where she'd gotten a part time job when she suddenly felt her vision uncomfortably blur. Her steps came to a staggering halt and she leaned against a tree in order to regain her sight but it didn't come. Everything was blurry and her palm...

Naminé turned and started at her fuzzy hand. She couldn't feel it.

"What's happening?" She wasn't asking anyone specifically but the question had risen to mind and then artfully escaped from her lips.

She slipped, a thin cut digging into her palm but again the pain was dulled and Naminé could only stare at the blurry scarlet hue in her palm.

Around/ the dorms

The Head has a startling amount of resources...that much is clear. He's seen what an organization can and will do when they have enough funds to pour into experiments and confidential projects. That's why he's not wholly surprised to find that he is no longer among the dead. Cerberus brought Shepard back with even less to work with, so how hard would it be to rebuild a terminally ill drell with a deep stab wound? AI or organic, no one should have this kind of power at their disposal. He can sympathize with the plight of one's planet being ravaged to the point of no return, but was all of this worth bringing it back from the brink of annihilation? Was that truly the case or was this a cover story to tug at heart strings? There were so many questions and so few answers. Naturally, he opts to stay away from any needles.

He spends the first couple of days attempting to get a feel for the unfamiliar city. The lights, synthetics, and general technology isn't foreign to him, but the way the city almost seems to morph (which he will later learn is quite literal) and confound even a seasoned individual such as himself is new to him. His memory is nothing to sneeze at; he would take a turn, recall the small pile of litter overflowing a trashcan sat beside a particular building, attempt to return to the spot only to find himself in a completely different area. However, once he came across a few landmarks it was a bit simpler to get around.

The dorms. His new would-be living quarters. He stops by his assigned room of course, checking every square inch of it, looking for alternative escape routes, etc, before doing a sweep of the building as well. Don't mind the green, leather clad alien wandering about the building — while he appears casual in the way he walks with his hands behind his back, almost as if on a leisurely stroll, his mind is at work as he scouts the place out. If he's to live here he's going to memorize every security flaw (and strength).

Axe hole [couple of days after arrival]

Axe hole. Charming.

If he were to continue on with his life, whatever has become of it now, and put his assassin days behind him, then it would be wise to get some sort of income. If he were to figure out anything about this place, it would be wise. The first thing he would have to focus on is getting some sort of weapon — a concealable gun, perhaps. But first he would have to find out where to get one. Not to mention, while he's steadily leaving that life behind, he's still working under a fake name. But, baby steps.

That being said, this wasn't how he pictured things going. He's done quite a bit of random work before but he can honestly say he's never worked at an axe throwing bar before. Supervising and making sure people didn't attempt to axe throw drunk wasn't the ideal but work is work. So, here he is, watching over things with a critical eye, occasionally having to stop a drunk from grabbing an axe. Or trying to talk someone into signing a waiver.

Wildcard

Shoot me a dm/pm/etc if you'd like them to meet anywhere/way not included in my prompts! Or just go for it.

Edited 2019-09-10 17:26 (UTC)

What a novel idea. Now this Dualis, a city named after the concept of Duality, was certainly not what it seemed, but it had every intention of proving the opposite. The God of Mischief was no stranger to deception, of course, and before even making his way to the dormitories, as the Head had directed, he'd taken to walking the streets of this strange city, only it wasn't always the same streets, even if he took four left turns. Illusion he could follow, but this seemed to be something else, something other than magic.

Curiouser and curiouser. Even more curious was the Head's insistence they all get to know one another, so much so there was, apparently, a monthly event dedicated to the ceremony, and so here he was, trying his damnedest not to smirk at the name of the place, sipping an adult beverage and not participating in the tossing of axes. It really was something his older brother would enjoy, and honestly Loki would be pretty good at it himself, but appearances and all that. Best to get to know the others before sharing too much about himself.

He's just a thin and wiry studious type with a charming smile, after all. If something does happen to join him at the small table, he'll afford them a mischievous smirk and glimpse awkwardly, a practiced and well-calculated act, down at the conversation card he was given upon arrival.

"Hello," he laughs as though he thinks the question he's about to pose is ridiculous, "I believe this is how this is meant to play out." He clears his throat before continuing, reading from the printed card in his hand, "What is the funniest prank you've ever had played upon you?"

Edited 2019-09-10 22:28 (UTC)

Listen, he'd needed to do something. Needed to be doing something. And since he really wasn't up for socialization and wanted to serve the purpose he was set by being here. Helping people. Mechanic work didn't do it, not really. So when the call came, so did Nida.

What he hadn't expected was what happened when he woke up the day after he got his injection. He wakes up younger. Or at least, younger visually. His hair back in a military cut, his face clean shaven and barely even showing stubble, and those last traces of baby-fat still there. Sixteen, young, and tired. He isn't very pleased.

Now he's wandering around, looking young and fresh-faced and frustrated because how are people going to take him serious as a teen? Now he can't get in to local bars when he just wants to sit around and bask in the environment, he's confined to premises at the mechanic's shop because who is going to trust a kid around busted vehicles when he barely looked old enough to drive, and in general bumming around town looking very much like a frustrated, angsty teen.

The worst part, though, is how it shorts his magic. The bursts of wind that he used to control so well are now just a little bit uncontrolled. The don't go very far but every time Nida gestures widely there's a gust of wind rushing from his arm, and so he's mostly forced to keep his hands in his pockets, except when he's shocked. And then whoops.

Edited 2019-09-11 12:07 (UTC)

[Arival/Around]
Steve was not unfamiliar with the feeling of waking up in a strange place not having his bearings or any sense of place for a while as he acclimates to new sites and sounds.

He eventually finds his way to the dorms, thanks in part to the guidance that the Head provided. He gave himself a headache thinking about a being such as the Head, so he shook his head trying to clear the fog before knocking on the door to his room.

[NAPS]

Steve tapped his fingers on the table in front of him, fussing with the plaid shirt that he wore. Whoever thought up this idea of welcoming people obviously didn't know him that well. He didn't do this kind of thing, ever... Well, that might be a lie, he did kind of have a life after the ice, just not much of one. He hadn't lied to Natasha when he said that wasn't his first kiss since 1945, but dating wasn't a priority. It still isn't, if he's honest, but when in Rome.

He looked up at the person seated across from him, smiling. "So, do you have any hobbies?" He almost audibly groaned because that sounded lame to even his ears. Natasha would be laughing for sure. He relaxed slightly at the thought, however, glancing at his companion again.

"That's what we are supposed to do right?"

[Injection, jection what's your fection]

Steve stood in line to get his shot like the good little soldier he is or was, depending on your point of view he thought. Kind of reminded him of the good ole days, back when waiting for bread, when there was money for bread or Steve wasn't sick. If he could help people then he would be more than happy to wait all day if he had to.

He wished he would have thought to bring a crossword.

Edited 2019-09-10 23:38 (UTC)

NAPs (Sept 11th)

There is absolutely no way he's going to be allowed into the throwing range, and even though he's not entirely sure he wants to try it, Ven's still kind of annoyed when the first thing anyone says to him when he arrives at the Ax Hole is that they won't give him a waiver so don't bother asking for one. Okay, fine, he looks young, but in reality he's a lot older than he looks! ...Kind of. In a way. Maybe. That really is splitting hairs and he knows it.

After managing to talk the bartender into giving him a fairly hefty sandwich to take to the tables - he's hungry and this is a restaurant, after all - Ven scopes one out that doesn't have anyone sitting at it and takes a seat, waiting for someone to take the other. When they do, he puts down his sandwich with a smile, wiping his hands on his napkin, and gives a small laugh. "Sorry about that - it's kind of a mess, isn't it?"

Inoculation (Sept 14th - end of month)

He's trying to get better about this, he really is, so Ven doesn't immediately run out and get the injection when it's announced. And since there isn't anything like world peace or his friends' safety hanging in the balance this time, there's absolutely no reason to do so without taking time to consider the angles. Still, it's a fairly foregone conclusion for both him and Aqua that they want to do whatever they can to help, both just for helping's sake and so that everyone can go home as soon as possible, and so a few days after it's announced Ven heads into the clinic before one of his delivery shifts to get it done. It pinches a bit, but it's over fast and he's out the door to start work within ten minutes.

(He immediately uses the money to buy a new telescope, as good a one as he can afford.)

The trouble starts the next day, though. Or, well, not exactly trouble, but when he wakes up, there's more light in the room than he's used to, and it might well be disturbing his new roommate. His first thought is that he or Steve forgot to draw the curtains before they went to sleep last night, but a quick look proves that to be untrue, and as he wakes up more it's immediately obvious the light is coming from him. Specifically, chest-height, a shining ball right in the center of his body, over his heart, though the dim radiance extends through all of him, right to his fingertips and toes, and even his hair. The shirt and shorts he sleeps in muffles it somewhat, but a few frantic minutes of scrambling (sorry, Steve) prove that only excessive layers of blankets blocks it completely. Ven finally sighs and gets out of bed, since he otherwise feels fine and he was warned something was possible. This could only be the result of that shot.

For the rest of the month, Ven gets on with his routine with that glow to him, unable to block it completely even with his customary layers of clothes. You might see him on the roof, where he likes to sit and observe the city day or night, sometimes with his new telescope and sometimes without. Or maybe you ordered from dualiseats and he's your delivery boy. He also heads to the zoo at the beginning of the second week so he can see all the animals there, even if he's not thrilled they're in cages, and there's a fair bit of general wandering around the city since he's still trying to see if there's a pattern to the shifting layout. In any case, the light isn't going away, and he's just dealing with it, because what else can he do?

Edited 2019-09-11 15:54 (UTC)

Finally, something Aleifr found familiar.

The Ax Hole doesn't have the same rowdy atmosphere of the Ascommani village and, to Aleifr's disappointment, the drink didn't flow anywhere near as freely, but it felt damned good to have steel in his hand again, even if it wasn't his steel.

Though he could have done without the bloody lecture on how to handle an axe. He understands that these workers are doing what they're told, and that the majority of the people here don't know their way around a weapon, but he'd had an axe in his hand from the time he was learning how to read. If the folks working here had known him from a hole in the ground, he'd have found it borderline insulting.

He has a better time of it once he's past that, though, despite the fact that he's only allowed one drink an hour for some damn reason. It takes him a throw or two to get used to the heft of these axes. They're smaller than he's used to, looking almost like toys in his massive hands. Because of that, he pulls his throw too much the first time. Undershoots his target, by just a little. The following throw is an over-correction, but the third? The third strikes true and buries itself in the bullseye.

He's feeling confident after that. The man who gave him the lecture had told him that the little green dots above the target on either side were called the 'clutch'.

Aleifr's axe landed in the middle of the one on the left on his fourth throw.

He might feel a little slower than he used to be after two months of relative inactivity, but his aim was still true. He was pleased with that.

NAP

[ To put it in the mildest possible terms, this is not where Erik wants to be. He wants to be in Paris. Roadblocks, both personal and professional, had finally cleared from the path of a possible future he hadn't allowed himself to consider a possibility in decades.

Of course he got waylaid. Did he ever truly expect otherwise? That he would be allowed to just be happy for a day? An hour? A few minutes before it is rudely ripped away from him yet again? To say his mood is sour is another mild statement. The additional insult of asking him to volunteer for medical trials is just icing on the cake. (He, of course, refuses to volunteer. And examines himself thoroughly for any telltale pinprick scabs that might indicate his refusal was ignored.)

Brooding won't help anything, as attractive as it may be. If he's ever going to get out of here, he's going to need allies. The more the better. So this silly event may prove itself useful. He leans to the side in his seat, ankle crossed over knee, the only indication of his agitation taking the form of softly tapping the index card on the table as he waits whoever might approach him next. He's not exactly smiling, but his expression is carefully neutral. Maybe even a little friendly. (Though probably only if you know him, and not well enough to realize what an act it is.) If it's a woman who approaches, he will rise from his seat. Edie Lehnsherr made sure her boy had manners, after all. ]

Ah, hello. Erik Lehnsherr.

[ No matter who approaches, he will offer a hand to shake. ]

Of All the Gin Joints

[ Erik stands behind the bar, wearing a white t shirt and dark jeans, drying a glass with a white bar towel. They always come out of the dishwasher still damp. He has nothing better to do, it's still early in the shift. And he hates it when the glasses get water spots on them.

Once the initial shock of his menial work assignment had passed, Erik saw the benefits in it. No better way to get information, or even allies. How reliable that information and allies could be variable, but it was an in all the same. He looks up when somebody enters. ]

Welcome to Rick's Café Americain. [ That is not the name of the bar, but he added the reference to amuse himself. ] What can I get for you.

Two's Company (Closed to Thane)

[ After a long day of adjusting to his new circumstances, and socializing, and work, Erik trudges to his room. He's not about to say he's getting too old for this, but he is.

At least he wears it well. To the point that he wonders if it isn't just Raven who ages at a slower rate than the general population, but all of them. Not a question he can really answer right now.

The accommodations are spartan but hardly the worst Erik has ever experienced. He enters the room and sees his roommate for the first time. He's green, which is unexpected but nothing that would shock Erik.]

Don't worry, I'll keep to my side of the room.

[ He drawls, his tone dry. He then pulls off his shirt because it smells of beer. ]

Axes!

Revan's not cheating, or at least she'll make a convincing argument that letting the Force guide her hand doesn't count if she doesn't steer the axe into the target with telekinesis. Correspondingly, instead of being absolutely perfect, she's just very, very good, racking up bullseyes from her first throw. Of course, the casual observer could be forgiven for thinking she's cheating, because rather than walk the 15 feet to the target, she keeps retrieving the axes with telekinesis, to the mild consternation of the attendants. In case that isn't enough of a clue about her profession--and around here, why would it be?--the lightsabers she's got on either hip might help. They look a little weird with her nondescript "civilian" outfit.

"Huh," she says as she calls yet another axe back to her hand with the Force. "This doesn't get old as quickly as I thought it would."

NAPs

Eventually, Revan retires from the field of metaphorical battle so she can drink more than one beer in an hour and glance over the icebreaker questions. She likes friends, and she likes not getting marked as a troublemaker until it's time to make real trouble, so sure, she'll play along. Everything is completely aboveboard here. She's not suspicious of anyone or anything.

Or at least she's really good at selling that lie. Revan smiles up at the newcomer, gesturing to the seat opposite her. "Hi, I'm Revan, and according to this, I'm supposed to ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up."

Arrival (for Hank/cops) (CW: mental health breakdown, Doom Patrol spoilers)

If there was one thing Jane needed today, it was to not be transported to an inescapable neon city run by an overseeing AI. But apparently what Jane needed wasn't important, because she hadn't needed to be stabbed in the back by the person she'd trusted most, to get dragged back into helping them, or teleport into a painting and be eaten by a kaiju cockroach either. So here she was, standing in the middle of a brightly lit street and covered in cockroach goo, in order to serve as someone's fucking science experiment. Again.

Even being back with the Chief was better than this. Flit agreed but when she took over to teleport back to the Manor, nothing happened. Her second try only moved her further into the city. They couldn't get out?

That was when the frenzy started.

With a growing wave of panic Jane tried to take the driver's seat again, but so did a number of others. A cycle of them wrested control one after the other, the struggle only escalating. Anyone on the street would see her thrashing as her outline blurred, her appearance shifting rapidly. She grabbed at her hair with both hands, seized, curled in on herself, sobbed, let loose a ragged, wordless scream of helpless fury as she sank onto the pavement. Her arms alternately cradled herself, flailed at anyone who reached for her, and reached out to be embraced.

The Ax Hole (CW: Doom Patrol spoilers, possible hostility?)

So they were captive, they were supposed to interact, and they were supposed to do it in a boozy grill where they could throw sharp objects. You didn't have to be a genius to see how that could go wrong and Jane rolled her eyes as she took a look around the Ax Hole, a name suggesting that whoever owned establishment was probably twelve years old. "I don't think the Head's as smart as it says it is," she remarked.

She got herself a beer and stood where she could keep an eye on the throwing range. There were a weird assortment of randoms here, but nothing that set her WTF meter off the charts; not much surprised her after her former housemates. Dualis was familiar in that way, and it was uncomfortable. It reminded her of too many places she'd been before: Doom Manor, Corpus Sanitarium, even Fucktopia.

The mandated socialization was straight out of Corpus and she wasn't greatly inclined to take it seriously, although she could at least use it to rule out a possibility in this uncanny place. The question she first asked any newcomers was "Are you being narrated?"

[ever seen a speedster try to sit still? even though it’s only for a few minutes at a time, it’s not easy for pietro to keep his restless energy contained; he keeps shifting position in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table, looking around the place like he’s bored - which he is. every minute he spends sitting here and talking to strangers is a minute he could surely spend on doing something more interesting. throwing axes at targets, for example. that at least sounds like it would be fun.

pietro hasn’t ever really seen a need for making friends - the companionship of his twin has always been enough for him. but there’s no real call to be hostile to the others who, like him, are stuck here in forced social interaction hell - not yet, anyway. he rapidly scans the card questions, blue eyes darting over the words while his mouth twists in a frown of disapproval. these questions are all incredibly dull, and pietro just doesn’t care to learn about the favorite color of the person sitting on the opposite side of the table. with a quiet, wordless sound of disapproval, he sets the card down on the table and leans in.]

Tell me - what would you rather be doing right now?

Edited 2019-09-13 14:56 (UTC)

Threaded | Flat

Arkady || OTA

Hank Anderson