[002] I had visions, I was in them, I was looking into the MIRROR

[notafuckingnut]

What the fuck just happened. Somebody tell me that kind of shit's normal around here, because if it's not I'm gonna have to ask what the hell kind of protocol you have for a crash in fucking SPACE.


[ooc: Richie is unaffected. Mirror!Richie is a bundle of insecurities and repentant puppy!eyes and anal-retentively clutched self-control - he's convinced if he tries this whole behaving and being Good thing hard enough for long enough his brother will come get him - sooo consequently it will quickly become fairly obvious to anyone who's spent any amount of time with him thus far in the Mirror!Verse that yeeeeah he's SUDDENLY GOTTEN "BETTER". Or at least gotten a hell of a lot closer to it.  *gasp*]

Comments

Normal!Inmate is unamused?

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

Who said anything about whining? It's a question. The ship fucking hit something, I want to know if I'm gonna have to worry about breathing or an invasion or something.

[Pause]

And since when did you stop being Mister Fucking Sensitivity?

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

Since when did you start cussing up a storm and actually talking like you have goddamn backbone?

The ship is fine, alright? Just a minor speedbump. You get used to him them after a while.

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

This is how I talk, where the fuck have you been?

We hit something, or didn't you feel it? It's more than a damn speedbump.

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

No, it's not. You're usually a timid pansy who couldn't scare a puppy.

Yeah, it's called a 'flood'. Like I said, it happens.

Look, stay in your room. I'll be down shortly. I have got to see this... sudden new you for myself.

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

Listen, man, I don't know who the hell you think you were talking to, but that doesn't fucking sound like me.

Why? I'm exactly the same as I was the last time you manipulated me into talking to you. Fuck off.

[Spam]

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

[He did fuck off. All the way to knocking at your door, which he's doing now. He'll look mostly the same except for the obvious gun at his side. Why yes, that's a magnum.]

[Spam]

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

[No. Will, what are you doing. Richie is SO not moving.]

WHAT.

[Spam]

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

You've improved, and that's great, but I'm still your warden, Richie. Open this door. Now. [A tone of 'You don't want to fuck with me, man.']

[Spam]

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

[Which is pretty much the ONLY reason he actually opens it. Silly conditioning.]

Improved? Like I said, I'm exactly the same as I was the last time I talked to you. And I'm pretty sure you didn't think I was "improved" then. If anything you're the one acting like a fucking pod person.

[...Oh. Gun. Huh.]

What's with the sidearm?

[Spam]

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

[Nope not waiting on invitation, he just walks right in. Same room as he's always known. He turns back to Richie at the second comment, and looks a bit confused.] I always have my gun with me. You know that. In fact, you're usually...

[Pause. After a second or two of consideration, he draws it and aims it toward Richie's head. Just to see his reaction. Proper Warden & Inmate Meetings 101.]

Normally you're avoiding it like some scared girl. If anyone's not themselves, it's you.

[Spam]

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

[...what is this. He was SO NOT EXPECTING a gun right there. Have a glower, and if it comes any closer he WILL try to take it.]

Says the screw who just wants to talk everything out who finally snapped and is pointing a fucking GUN AT MY HEAD. What the fuck. Keep it up and you'll be eating it yourself.

[Spam]

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

[Rather than look upset about that threat, Will looks very pleased. Whatever this flood was, it was for the best.]

I don't know what you're talking about. But it doesn't matter. If you're hallucinating on account of being off the meds, fine. Small price to pay. What I do know is you're talking sense, finally.

[He lowered the gun and holstered it.]

[Spam]

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

...Wait wait wait. Hang on just a minute. What meds? I'm not on any meds. Why would I be on meds? I don't fucking hallucinate.

[...No, he just sees things nobody else happens to. TOTALLY DIFFERENT. Have a suspicious look, Will. Richie does not like your implications at ALL.]

[Spam]

[grahamcommawill.livejournal.com]

You were on the meds. Before you came here. They were messing you up too bad before you came here. [A casual shrug.] So I took you off them.

[He starts to reach into his pocket, then stops. A narrowed eyes look.] You don't remember any of that? [There's a few seconds consideration.] What's the last thing you recall you and I doing?

[Spam]

[notafuckingnut.livejournal.com]

[Well that's...in no way right. Have more suspicious looks, coupled with some wariness for good measure; he's fairly sure he's right here, but if Will keeps at it emphatically enough he might start to doubt a little.]

Having a talk? Since that seems to be your favorite fucking hobby. Don't ask me what the hell it was about because I wasn't actually listening. Why?

[Disrespect: Will may have ALL of it]