interstellar5555 | Locked in a Room

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Locked in a Room

Who: Everyone stuck in Pride HQ
What: This load of crap.
When: Nov. 1-5
Where Pride HQ
Warnings: Pg-13 minimum because Carnies. Tag if it gets over that.

Everyone got the same call-- and now we're all stuck in HQ with no hint of release in sight.

The reason? No one knows.

How are you coping?

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Shit--! Alright, Jesus.

[He backs off, putting his hands up in surrender, but he's still watching to make sure he didn't accidentally do some kind of damage or something. He doesn't think he's strong enough for that, but you never know.]

[Jamie takes his hand away from his face and looks at it as though checking it for blood. If he's surprised there isn't any, it doesn't show.]

I don't need your pity, man! [Jamie did you really just say that.] Fine, you win. You proved your point. You're the boss. Are you happy now?

[Who wouldn't be happy winning a fight against an angry midget with one punch? Seriously that must be some kind of record.]

[Could he roll his eyes any harder? He's worried about the guy, but what's with the attitude.]

Come on, they'll have ice at the bar.

Why are you being all nice all of a sudden? [This comes out sounding less aggressively hostile than any of his previous comments. More sullen and unsure, like Terry's playing some angle here Jamie can't figure out.]

I'm pissed off, not a dick.

[How does one diplomatically say "I wouldn't have punched you if I knew you had no idea what you're doing."]

No, you're a dick. [Again, sounding more sulky than genuinely mad, almost as though Jamie maybe accepts that he brought this on himself. He gestures defeatedly, letting his hand drop back against his thigh with a slap.]

Fine, whatever. Where's the bar.

[Terry snorts, but he doesn't argue, turning instead to lead Jamie to the bar.]

If it makes you feel any better, my hand really hurts.

You're tougher than you look. You hit a lot harder than Maxxie. [Not...that Maxxie actually hit him, so it's kind of an unfair comparison.]

Flashstep Maxxie? [... Squint.] Shit, are you in Flashstep?

[Jamie recoils at Terry's sudden scrutiny, as though he's expecting a good proper beatdown now that Terry's realized he's dealing with someone in a boyband.]

Yeah. To both. Why, what difference does that make?

[It comes out all rushed and defensive, and he's starting to bristle up again in preparation for whatever Terry's going to do.]

None, really.

[He gives Jamie a thoughtful look, trying to think about the best way to say what he's thinking.] You're just... More aggressive then I'd expect someone in a boyband to be.

[Jamie's not really sure how to respond to that - I'm not usually this bad, I wouldn't go around picking fights if I wasn't feeling all weird and fucked-up, I can't punch all of Predator in the face so I settled on you instead would all be technically accurate, but they hardly seem appropriate to share with someone who just clocked him in the head. So instead he just shrugs and looks away, resuming his trek to the bar.]

Yeah, well, just because we don't set our amps on fire or write songs about the aching darkness of our souls doesn't mean we're all a bunch of little prisses. [It comes out taut and strained but not overtly hostile. Like he's trying not to escalate things but only half-succeeding.]

[Terry snorts.] Guess I should know better than to listen to PR by now.

[He gives Jamie a half-amused look over his shoulder as they get to Pink, and he leads the way to the bar so he can ask for ice for his hand and Jamie's face. And a shot of something that'll burn appropriately while he's at it.]

[Jamie returns Terry's look flatly, just on the off-chance he's being mocked - Jamie honestly can't be sure anymore, and tends to always suspect the worst anyway. When he gets to the bar he orders a shot of something too - Jaegermeister, to be exact - and claims a seat.]

So who are you, anyway? [Since Terry already knows (kind of) who Jamie is. Jamie's aware the guy looks familiar and is a fellow newb, but can't place him beyond that.]

My name's Terry. [He slumps tiredly against the bar with a sigh] I play in Cosmic Indulgence.

You don't sound too thrilled about that.

[The drinks and ice arrive, and Jamie downs his shot, gestures for another around the exaggerated grimace that results, and gingerly puts an ice pack to his face.] GhhhhJesus. That's gonna bruise. [Probably. Maybe. He doesn't have a whole lot of experience in this area.]

Nah, I love it. It's just being stuck in the building, you know?

[He throws back his shot and orders a beer, he's gonna go nuts if this keeps up for much longer.]

Yeah, shit sucks. 's enough to drive anyone crazy.

[He sighs and leans forward on the bar, leaning on his elbows while keeping the ice pack up against his face.] Wish they'd at least tell us what's going on. Terrorists or SARS outbreak or whatever. I think not knowing is the worst part.

Seriously. It's fucking ridiculous to keep us all cooped up without telling us why and expect us to be alright with it.

Right? [The next round arrives and Jamie downs his second shot almost like a reflex, indicating this time for the bartender to leave the bottle.]

I wonder if it's just us - y'know, the newer guys - or if everyone else is being corralled like this too.

Shit, I hope it's everyone. [He takes a long drink to get the bad taste the idea of it being just the new kids put in his mouth.] We're not children.

Yeah, well, that depends on who you ask, I guess. And they're not exactly big on fair treatment around here. I bet fucking Predator never did get called on that shit they pulled.

[If he sounded a little hostile dealing with Terry earlier, he sounds absolutely vicious now. He takes a swig directly from the bottle this time, and judging by the way he's gripping it, he doesn't intend to stop doing so for a while.]

[That gets a sharp laugh out of Terry and his expression settles into something intense. Jaw clenched tightly with the effort it takes him not to fly off into a rage about it.]

Of fucking course not. [He snorts] You make money like that, you can probably do whatever the hell you want.

Well someday we're gonna make money like that and then we're gonna be able to do whatever we want.

[He takes another angry swig from the bottle and looks away in a sort of half-belligerent, half-thoughtful way. If that's a thing.] Except we're not gonna be assholes to people. At least I'm not. Not that much of an asshole, anyway.

I don't understand what kind of an asshole thinks that shit's okay.

[His grip on the drink is white-knuckled, everything in him straining at how angry thinking about the other night makes him.] And they laughed about it.

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mildwildchild - 2015-11-13 02:31 (UTC) - Expand

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traumatizing - 2015-11-14 15:27 (UTC) - Expand

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