Robin Rice has taken to hanging out in the Rift room. No one is ever there. It somehow seems more productive than lying in his bed all day. If anyone comes along, he can give them the excuse that he is 'guarding' the Rift, despite the fact that no one has come through it in a very long time, which is the very reason he feels it's safe to stay there.
He sits up on the couch where he'd been going over paperwork of some kind, possibly paperwork that he created for himself over something useless like doing the inventory of the weapon closet. He has already written it. He is just working on tables for it, perfectly lined tables.
And then someone comes in through the Rift, which is a... ultra fun sight. He actually gets up and attempts to run for the door before anyone can actually get through so he won't have to deal with them, but he's just... not that fast
( ... )
Whether or not Faith is a monster is a matter of opinion - Buffy would probably say 'YES'. A girl she is, but not at all a typical girl, which is why her reaction to that, rather than hysteria, is a raised eyebrow and a glance around.
"Chicago? Really? Portal of some kind, I assume...yours, or are you just another hapless victim along for the ride?"
Well, at least, she's not freaking out that makes this much easier. Of course the people who tend to be used to this sort of thing happening, also, tend to be the ones that cause the most trouble, but he's not going to judge. Really.
"Rift. Technically," Robin says, because it really matters what someone calls the damn thing. It's not like he cares. "Not mine. Not anybody's."
"This world spontaneously generates them, the Rifts," he gestures to the one she just came through, "because it's falling apart. And the Rifts take people and creatures and things and whatever bloody else they like from other worlds and simply dumps them here."
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He sits up on the couch where he'd been going over paperwork of some kind, possibly paperwork that he created for himself over something useless like doing the inventory of the weapon closet. He has already written it. He is just working on tables for it, perfectly lined tables.
And then someone comes in through the Rift, which is a... ultra fun sight. He actually gets up and attempts to run for the door before anyone can actually get through so he won't have to deal with them, but he's just... not that fast ( ... )
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"Chicago? Really? Portal of some kind, I assume...yours, or are you just another hapless victim along for the ride?"
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"Rift. Technically," Robin says, because it really matters what someone calls the damn thing. It's not like he cares. "Not mine. Not anybody's."
"This world spontaneously generates them, the Rifts," he gestures to the one she just came through, "because it's falling apart. And the Rifts take people and creatures and things and whatever bloody else they like from other worlds and simply dumps them here."
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Faith pauses, as her brain suddenly kicks in.
"....does that mean it's one-way?"
She is now giving the Rift a Look.
See icon.
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