notafuckingnut | [001] where were you, I was worried

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[001] where were you, I was worried

[Text. Or, more specifically, a series of them, spread a couple minutes apart]

SETH. Cmon Seth this isn't funny. Where the fuck r u weve got a rendezvous 2 make. At least I think we do. What the fuck is this place anyway? The service sucks the beds like a rock and there isn't even a TV. What am I supposed to do in here stare at the ceiling for an hour? This is bullshit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[That unvoiced bit? It is noticed.]

...Apparently? Is there a file or a folder nearby telling you about the ship?

...Is there supposed to be?

[Translation: I didn't look for one. Or look very hard.]

If you're a warden, yes.

I already told you I think I'm an inmate.

[Through a small miracle he keeps the "you asshole" to himself.]

Yeah, I know, I was just--helping you figure it out for certain. [He doesn't seem so sure anymore. Oh, Bruce, why do your plans always end up failing?]

...Well I don't see one.

[Again, not that he's looking all that hard.]

...Okay. Then you probably didn't get one. [Oh wait, that's not really helping any.] Um. Do you need assistance with anything?

Yeah. Getting out of here.

And where's my gun?

[He did notice that much in his not-search]

Er... Well, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but. [This pause. It is awkward.] Inmates aren't allowed weapons of any kind.

That's why they're fucking inmates; I know the drill.

But that doesn't answer my question. Where.is.it.

Not here. As in, gone. Maybe your warden will let you have it. But. Until then? You're kind of outta luck here.

Okay, fine. Who's my warden, then?

You'll know when the Admiral assigns you over the intercom. That usually happens about twice a month.

[Welcome to Frustrated!Richie, Bruce. You are SO not his favorite person right now, and if he had anything remotely resembling something dangerous he would probably try to inflict copious amounts of pain on you THROUGH the communicator.]

Do you know fucking anything? Or is your job just to tell everyone you'll help them and then not?

How about my fucking glasses, can you at least get those fixed? Because I only have one pair and I can't fucking see.

[They may be in the room already, he doesn't know. As mentioned, he didn't actually look around all that hard.]

[This? Is Bruce being calm. It's a habit.]

I can only tell you what I know, Mr. Gecko. As of right now, you are an unassigned inmate. [No, he doesn't know why the Admiral lets inmates run free for a week, if not longer. Quite a dumb way to run a prison, if you ask him. Except... no one did, so. He keeps his opinions to himself.]

Regarding your glasses, I should be able to fix them. How are they broken?

[Grumble grumble grumble, with a whine thrown in for good measure. THIS DOES NOT REDEEM YOU, BRUCE.]

One of the lenses has a hole in the middle and the rest of it's cracked to shit. And the other side isn't much better.

[He's ignoring that grumble. Because glasses are clearly more important.]

I can request another pair for you. In the meantime, I might have a spare. I don't know if they'll fit, or even work for you, though.

Well it has to be better than what I have.

[More whining; he is SUCH a child sometimes. But it's better than wanting to stab him in the throat...?]

Hopefully, yeah. Want me to just come by and drop them off?

Yeah, sure. Fine.

[Pause. Waiting, waiting. Derp.] I need to know where you are.

...You're a warden, aren't you supposed to know this kind of shit already? Floor seven, room nine.

[That's a good question. Why didn't they have a directory? Dammit, Admiral!] Thanks. I'll be right down.

[A few minutes later, knock knock.]

[...What is this mysterious ~~ticking~~ knocking sound. Not cool.]

[Barked because come onnnn he was...busy? Something. Anybody could be knocking on his door.]

What.

[Its quite... catchy.]

Umm. I'm Bruce? We spoke over the network. About your glasses?

[Awkward.]

[001] where were you, I was worried

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