buywithme | 162 - hand on heart. heart still in jar. prognosis: Bad.

Ah-- I'm sorry I've not had a chance to make this announcement sooner, Comrades. Things have been... well, I'm sure you all know how things have been.

[Prefect's voice is a little raw right now, he's sitting on his bed, which is pushed up against the concrete wall of his cabin.]

I've been asked to act as interim warden for Edward Nygma until he's assigned someone permanently, so if there are any problems with his behavior, or if anyone has a problem with him that requires a wardens attention, then please let me know.

[He lifts a hand now, to rub it down over his eyes. He looks tired as hell.]

And-- I know after a port like that, this is probably a very foolish thing to ask, but Comrades, Brothers, Sisters... How are you all?

[The hand shifts around to cup on the back of his neck, and he stares at the communicator, his expression absent, if not unhappy.]

I know some people were able to help each other, while we were down there. Some people were just able to survive. There were a lot of things that I missed, or I couldn't focus on. So-- If anyone wants to talk about any of that, or... about anything at all? I'd be happy too.

Barron? Mr. Nygma? Please let me know how you're holding up?

[Private to Lua, maybe twenty minutes later]

WHY IS IT BACK IN MY ROOM?

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[She shakes her head at how crazy this is.] Should be trying to go back to him, if anybody.

[no1curr Nygma, totally ignoring your sass.]

What is your gravitation towards horrible people, anyway?

[YOU HAD TO ACKNOWLEDGE IT WAS THERE TO IGNORE IT.]

...

Nygma.

Sure.

[Prefect just about has time to say it before they're zipping off into the depths of the CES. He should really go after them, be a professional warden and everything, but he kind of doesn't have the energy right now.

Instead, he finds a particularly clean looking patch of grass, and has a little lie down.]

This one is gravitating towards me.

Ordinarily though, I worry about people who isolate themselves.

Also sometimes horrible people can be very convincing.

Edited 2012-08-21 21:02 (UTC)

It's a disembodied heart in a jar, Sister. It shouldn't be going anywhere.

Barron and I have our pub times scheduled already, but if you won't come with me then I'll be forced to revoke your access to my shower.

When he was demoted he asked me if I would, and I agreed.

[Riddick pushes his body to its limits on the sprint-- its normal fucking limits, thank you, back where they should be. So Renate wanders back to Prefect first, quitting when she's tired, and Riddick drags himself back exhausted a while later.]

So you got beat up?

[He folds onto the grass gracefully like barely being able to stand was part of the plan.]

You mean when he tired of pretending to be a Warden. Tiresome little insect.

Threatening to deprive me of my daily shower is an extremely tactless way of coercing me to the pub.

It also failed.

He really was a warden at first, I think.

But... yes, I do mean that.

It doesn't have to be in the pub, Comrade. I...

[Wait.]

Are you still interested in having that dinner you asked me for?

You threatened my shower privileges. My interest in doing anything with you has plummeted drastically.

[When Riddick makes it back, Renate is flopped down, her side pressing against his leg, and Prefect has draped one arm over his eyes, blocking out the light.]

Not beat up, Comrade. I was... they were testing things on us.

I'm aware of the historical possibility. The resilience of his 'rehabilitation' attracted something of a betting pool in Arkham.

I did gather all the things you asked for. Lobsters and things.

And your shower privileges remain under threat, Comrade. Either you can have the meal that you requested with me, and you can take as many showers as you want, or maybe you'll have to use the shared facilities like everyone else.

The likelihood of his demotion was heavily speculated on here as well.

So... you knew him back home, Sister?

[....]

I'm under no obligation to talk to you during this dinner. You're aware of that, aren't you?

As well as I cared to acquaint myself with any other sniveling B-lister. Our circles overlapped; we weren't friends.

[but really Ivy how much of a chance of that was there]

Actually, I seem to recall this dinner being the condition under which we would discuss establishing a new support system for you now that Mr. Profit is no longer with us.

I got the red wine you wanted as well.

[An amused little snort at Eddie being called B-list. Poor Eddie.]

That's kind of how I felt about him as a warden. I mean, not that he was a sniveling B-lister, we just didn't really associate much.

He was best friends with someone who looked exactly like me, so that was awkward.

I heard that was going around.

[His jaw grinds.]

I can do without getting smacked down to standard human again.

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162 - hand on heart. heart still in jar. prognosis: Bad.

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