Nightshift 40: M71-M80 Hallway

[mustbethesuit]

Peter scrambled to put on a calm facade. He had his moments as an actor, but sadly, this wasn't one of them. "I'm fine. I just forgot something." Brainy was just trying to be nice, but there was no point in dumping his problems on him. He didn't want the other boy to think he was a burden (which he wasn't), and there was nothing to be done about

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Re: M72

[iwascloned]

Ugh. The intercom. Didn’t seem like he was going to be getting any writing done after all. Spider turned towards his closet and began what was becoming his evening ritual. “You may secure our cigarette supply.” He called back over his shoulder “I have journalism to attend to this evening.” Pants would probably be appropriate. Jacket. No shirt. He had BOOTS now?! Those would do nicely. And some KEYS had materialized on his round paperclip. Ah … that’s probably what it was really for then. No matter. It clipped on the modified smiley face just the same. Box cutter, Ritalin, journal, sword, flashlights. Hmm …

“Here, I think I stole this from you,” he mumbled, tossing one of his flashlights towards his roommate. He could deal with only having two, after all. Duct tape, Paint. Anything else he needed? Ehmm … AGH! KNOCKING! His assistant must have just arrived. Popping a couple of Ritalins into his mouth, Spider approached the door.

“Door, open!” he said, and waited a full 30 seconds before remembering that doors did not open like that in this pathetic excuse for a time period. Instead, he kicked the door open with his new boots and thrust his head out into the hallway.

“YOU! Are you prepared for journalism?”

Re: M72

[jokers_wildcard]

Holy...! After a few moments of nothing, she thought maybe she'd gotten the wrong door after all and had started moving back toward M74. Good thing she did or she might've gotten a good face full of door. She'd jerked in surprise when the door went flying open and ended up staring at the guy.

"Journa-- Wha?" The fist with the flashlight went to her hip. "What're you talkin' about? Thought we were goin' outside." Maybe she should have figured there was going to be a change in plans somewhere along the way. Her attention went to the junk he was holding in his arms. "...What the heck's that stuff for?"

Yeah. Great idea there. Let's duct tape all the monsters to the walls. That'll work out real well. Never mind they'd both run out of tape pretty quick...

Re: M72

[iwascloned]

"JOURNALISM!" Spider replied, dropping most of the stuff at his feet. He then proceeded to pick things up one by one. First he grabbed the duct tape and began wrapping it around the flashlight. When that was done, he fastened the assemblage securely to his cast.

"We do not have access to the technology that makes this process simple, and so we must carry things." Using his teeth, Spider ripped off a piece of duct tape, then used it to tape his box cutter to his chest. "But we also need our hands. Or hand. DAMN YOU SHEENA. Here," he said, holding out the paint bucket and brush. "Find something to do with this. And this sword. AND DO NOT OCCUPY YOUR HANDS. I NEED YOUR HANDS."

Re: M72

[jokers_wildcard]

... That didn't answer her question at all. And she wasn't going to stand here and repeat herself. Especially when he was handing her stuff. Harley liked to think she had imagination, but unless they were going to bash a reporter's head in with this stuff, she couldn't see what a bucket of paint had to do with journalism. Or a lack of technology. ...Or Sheena.

Happy she'd brought the pillowcase, she threw the bucket and brush in there. That solved that, but... what the heck was she supposed to do with a sword? She held it with a confused expression on her face. Guns and mallets and almost everything else she'd used, but a sword? She bet she wasn't even holding this thing right.

"M-My hands?" she blurted out, obviously more than a little lost already. Uhhh. How was she supposed to carry this stuff without using her hands?! Harley already had a flashlight and the pillowcase. And it's not like she had one of those waist band thingies to hold a swo-- ... No, wait she did.

Dumping the pillowcase, sword, and flashlight onto the floor, Harley pulled both of her arms into her shirt. After a moment of shuffling around inside, she pulled her arms back into her sleeves and tugged the remainder of her bra down to her waist under the shirt. There. Instant sword holder thingamig. She shoved the sword through her new makeshift holder and... it didn't exactly work as planned, but it would be good enough. Just had to make sure she didn't slice her side open.

But with the paint in it, she needed at least one hand to carry that pillowcase. It would be too heavy to tie around her shoulder without it coming apart, too. Maybe she could try that whole 'duct taping a flashlight to her forearm' thing, but even then she wouldn't free up both hands. "Come on, pops. Quit hoggin' the tape," she said, irritatedly holding her hand out in a 'gimme, gimmie' gesture. "I think you're askin' too much. We can't carry all this stuff without our hands."

Re: M72

[iwascloned]

Good, she was catching on. Spider dropped the roll of duct tape and snatched the pillowcase. He set it down in front of him, then freed the box cutter from his chest. Holding the open end of the pillowcase closed with his teeth, Spider gouged a roughly arm-sized hole in the fabric with the helpful little razor. Once finished, he looped his creation over his shoulder like a messenger bag. Not sturdy enough to last for long, but it'd hold until they replaced the pillowcases in the morning.

"Enough dick-twaddling and tit-swiveling! We must act! Away!"

Flashlight-cast stretched to the heavens, Spider began marching down the hall.

Re: M72

[jokers_wildcard]

While Spider worked on ripping a hole through the case, Harley duct taped the flashlight to the top of her left forearm. Admittedly, it was a neat idea. Kind of made you feel like a robot, but neat. By the time she finished, her 'partner' was already done and ready to move.

She followed after him, shoving the duct tape back into the pillowcase-bag.

[to here]

Re: M72

[mayomanoflove]

"What the fuck are you calling 'ours'?" Hijikata growled, only to realize belatedly that the snarl in his voice had been somewhat dwarfed by a generous overtone of "WTF?!". The sounding of the intercom evidently marked the beginning of some kind of ritual for his roommate, who'd immediately advanced to the great mess that seemed to be his closet and started fumbling through the contents. Watching the man yank out some clothes and snatch out some other tools, Hijikata found his interest drawn immediately to the man's sword (no, not THAT one, genius) and felt his stare intensify even as--Michael? Was that his name?--messed around with a bunch of other shit as well.

"Here, I think I stole it from you."

Hijikata caught the flashlight automatically, momentarily caught off-guard and distracted from Michael's pill-popping by the new tool he never knew he'd lost.

"...wait, did you just say you stole--"

--the door slammed shut, leaving Hijikata glaring in half-pissed, half-too-weirded-out-to-be-pissed fashion at the empty space and the smell he had (unfortunately) already adjusted to.

"...great," he muttered, sighing irritably and sneaking wary glances at his dinner. Though Hijikata had wanted some space and quiet for himself, now that he had it...a good look at his messy surroundings was enough to make Hijikata want out all over again, in a bad way. He only had two choices: 1) stay in his room doing nothing except likely pissing off the producer who was forking out big bucks to produce Gintama, or 2) go outside, get beat up or cut up or fucked up in horrible way and satisfy the sponsors, likely resulting in an earlier return home, higher ratings, and maybe some adorable love interest in Season 42.

...really, he didn't have much of an option.

[to here.]