Richie Gecko (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notafuckingnut) wrote2011-11-07 06:49 pm
notafuckingnut) wrote2011-11-07 06:49 pm
[013] Please tell me why
[The last thing Richie remembers is being in Lua's room. And mostly boredom broken up by periodic forced trips to the kitchen because she didn't trust him left alone; she never said it, but he figured it out on his own anyway. A lecture (or what generally passed for one from Lua, anyway) after he ransacked the room once while looking for something to occupy his attention for more than five minutes tended to get the message across fairly well.
He expects to be in that same room when he wakes up, but in a complete break from predictability and reason, he's not.
He's in the infirmary instead.
The Barge is soon treated to a Richie who's still half-asleep, and looks it. He runs a hand absently through his hair, mussing it further in the process before smoothing it down reflexively (for all the good it actually does), then rubs at his eyes to clear the crust before glancing around.]
Lua? Where'd you...?
[He looks completely baffled by his surroundings, and after a moment or so longer of trying to solve the puzzle he turns his attention to the screen, blinking at it blearily.]
What. the. fuck. How'd I get here? If this is another fucked up Barge thing... Or...
[An idea suddenly dawns on him, and instead of just lazily addressing the Barge in general for more directionless ranting he seems to wake up a bit more, glaring irritatedly at the screen.]
You. Fucking punk. Whatever the hell your name is. Your ass is dead.
[A/N: Have a post-Barge!coma Richie, public. Who seems to think Jesse is as good a person to blame for the situation as anyone else, completely absent any ACTUAL information. Also open spam for those either in the infirmary or anyone who wants to drop by.]
He expects to be in that same room when he wakes up, but in a complete break from predictability and reason, he's not.
He's in the infirmary instead.
The Barge is soon treated to a Richie who's still half-asleep, and looks it. He runs a hand absently through his hair, mussing it further in the process before smoothing it down reflexively (for all the good it actually does), then rubs at his eyes to clear the crust before glancing around.]
Lua? Where'd you...?
[He looks completely baffled by his surroundings, and after a moment or so longer of trying to solve the puzzle he turns his attention to the screen, blinking at it blearily.]
What. the. fuck. How'd I get here? If this is another fucked up Barge thing... Or...
[An idea suddenly dawns on him, and instead of just lazily addressing the Barge in general for more directionless ranting he seems to wake up a bit more, glaring irritatedly at the screen.]
You. Fucking punk. Whatever the hell your name is. Your ass is dead.
[A/N: Have a post-Barge!coma Richie, public. Who seems to think Jesse is as good a person to blame for the situation as anyone else, completely absent any ACTUAL information. Also open spam for those either in the infirmary or anyone who wants to drop by.]
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Saturday? Maybe? What's that got to do with anything, it's...what, Sunday?
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And I was in somebody else's room all day 'cause she insisted. So you fucking explain it.
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[...Hang on a minute...]
Wait. What the fuck do you mean, "the mistake the real Admiral made" bringing me here? I don't want to fucking be here anyway, but what do you mean, mistake?
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And I mean your ass is clearly un-fucking-redeemable, so sucks to be your Warden, 'cause he ain't never getting out of here.
[Despite all the swearing, he doesn't seem all that mad. Annoyed, maybe, but his voice is just sort of flat. He rolls his eyes and lights up a cigarette.]
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Well I'm still fucking here so I guess you're wrong.
Not that I give a shit because I didn't do anything anyway. And the shit I did do? Wasn't even my fault.
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