OOC: Second Memory (Hearing/Taste)
[OOC: Yeah, finally getting around to writing down the memory from the crystal Bridge got from Praise- let's just say he was a bit wary of touching it, then forgot about it in all of the excitement til he found it at the bottom of his messenger bag. This memory is from the episode Resurrection, because you all know I can't resist a "buttery" reference. The staticed-out words are Ghost's real name, "Jack", and Bridge's last name, "Carson".
A clip of this scene can be watched here on YouTube.]
"Does anyone want any toast?"
Bridge's sight was veiled in darkness, and he didn't seem to be able to feel anything, but he could hear everything, including footsteps, a slight creaking noise as he sat down, and the clink of a plate. And, of course, his own voice.
"It's really buttery! Extra buttery."
His assumption that those words were accompanied by his usual fingerwiggle was confirmed when an unfamiliar female voice spoke.
"Bridge. Why do you always wiggle your fingers when you say 'buttery'?" And then- a very, very familiar voice.
"He can't help himself. It's ingrained into his cellular makeup," said Spike.
"That's ridiculous," Bridge retorted. "I can say 'buttery' without…" A short pause. "Buttery."
"HA!" laughed the woman's voice. A second, longer pause.
"Buttery!" He could then hear another female voice giggling along with the first one. "… Maybe I can't." He wasn't unduly bothered by the repeated fingerwiggles he could safely assume had just happened, however, because seconds later he felt the familiar taste of toast in his mouth. He then heard someone's throat clearing, heard the others- and presumably himself, as well- stand up.
"At ease," said a strong, authoritative male voice. "Rangers, these last few days have been uneventful. But I caution you, do not let your guard down. Something is brewing, I can feel it. Be at the ready."
"Yes, sir," Bridge, Spike, and the two women chorused.
"Where's [static]?" the authoritative voice wanted to know.
"He's in the city," said the second woman. "He got bored and decided to go out."
"Very well. Carry on," said the male voice, and Bridge heard footsteps begin to walk away as he heard himself sit back down, before he spoke again. "Is that all yours, [static]?"
"Ah. Ah, no, sir," Bridge stumbled. "Uh, well, yeah, well, I made some for everyone, but nobody wants any. D'you want some toast? It's really butt-" He then heard what sounded an awful lot like him slapping one of his hands with the other.
"I'll pass," the male voice replied, and with that, the memory faded.
A clip of this scene can be watched here on YouTube.]
"Does anyone want any toast?"
Bridge's sight was veiled in darkness, and he didn't seem to be able to feel anything, but he could hear everything, including footsteps, a slight creaking noise as he sat down, and the clink of a plate. And, of course, his own voice.
"It's really buttery! Extra buttery."
His assumption that those words were accompanied by his usual fingerwiggle was confirmed when an unfamiliar female voice spoke.
"Bridge. Why do you always wiggle your fingers when you say 'buttery'?" And then- a very, very familiar voice.
"He can't help himself. It's ingrained into his cellular makeup," said Spike.
"That's ridiculous," Bridge retorted. "I can say 'buttery' without…" A short pause. "Buttery."
"HA!" laughed the woman's voice. A second, longer pause.
"Buttery!" He could then hear another female voice giggling along with the first one. "… Maybe I can't." He wasn't unduly bothered by the repeated fingerwiggles he could safely assume had just happened, however, because seconds later he felt the familiar taste of toast in his mouth. He then heard someone's throat clearing, heard the others- and presumably himself, as well- stand up.
"At ease," said a strong, authoritative male voice. "Rangers, these last few days have been uneventful. But I caution you, do not let your guard down. Something is brewing, I can feel it. Be at the ready."
"Yes, sir," Bridge, Spike, and the two women chorused.
"Where's [static]?" the authoritative voice wanted to know.
"He's in the city," said the second woman. "He got bored and decided to go out."
"Very well. Carry on," said the male voice, and Bridge heard footsteps begin to walk away as he heard himself sit back down, before he spoke again. "Is that all yours, [static]?"
"Ah. Ah, no, sir," Bridge stumbled. "Uh, well, yeah, well, I made some for everyone, but nobody wants any. D'you want some toast? It's really butt-" He then heard what sounded an awful lot like him slapping one of his hands with the other.
"I'll pass," the male voice replied, and with that, the memory faded.