(Untitled)

[clockarmageddon]

[ooc: Faux Jack Bauer voice: The following thread takes place between 3 and 4 on the Armageddeon Clock.]By now, you've probably connected that soft chime to the shaking earth, and both of those to the new furnishing

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[the_calcium_tm]

Jimmy Connelly's not known for the brilliance of his suggestions, but at least he's good for his word. It took a bit of stammering and a 'please' to hop off with the gym's equipment, but he managed it. Which is why Jimmy's standing in front of the clock, half-suited up as if he were about to spar, with Stan's famous bat.

That's right -- a big stick.

[clockarmageddon]

Tick.

Tick.

You wouldn't hit a clock with glasses, would you?

Tick.

Tick.

[the_calcium_tm]

Normal glasses, no. Glasses of Potential Earthquake-Causing Evil? Well.

You can understand, I'm sure.

Jimmy rubs his palms along the handle of the bat, sort of sizing up the clock a bit. He figures if there's nothing wrong with it, he'll save up half a few weeks' pay and replace it, but first... sizing it up. Yeah, 's a clock all right.

[clockarmageddon]

Tick.

Yep, just a clock. No reason to bash it in.

Tick.

Honest. It's defenseless! It's only got one hand, after all!

Tick.

[the_calcium_tm]

Only one hand? 'S a bit useless, then, innit? 'Not following the proper track of hours' bit aside.

Well.

Well.

Jimmy squints at it a bit more. Dare you to do something dangerous.

[clockarmageddon]

Nothing dangerous here. Just forlornly ticking away the seconds. Made to endure pokes and prods, insults about its appearance, and scans from strange machines...

You could just about pity it, all it's been put through.

[the_calcium_tm]

Ha, right, yeah. Pull the other one?

But... it is really convincingly just a clock. Albeit a bit off on the time. And a slight shade darker than 'creepy'. It could've been a coincidence, all the chiming, and everyone could just be in a bit of a fuss.

Jimmy takes a step closer, raising the bat.

[clockarmageddon]

Yes, that's it... just a bit closer.

Come on... just a little bit more... a little bit more... almost there...

HA!

Now you're out of the way of the waitrat trying to get behind you.

[the_calcium_tm]

A huffed squeak alerts Jimmy to the fact that, once again, he's being a bit useless. "Sorry," he offers, and there's honestly no light tinge of pink in his ears. You're probably projecting.

And speaking of projecting, back to Ye Olde Chiming Portente of Doom. He stares the Clock in its face. Glances a quick rightandleft to make sure no one's really looking and says, "When exactly did you show up here?"

[clockarmageddon]

The face doesn't have eyes, but somehow it still manages to stare back, impassively.

Whether it's unwilling to answer or unable to isn't exactly clear. All that really is clear is that you're talking to a clock, dude.

[the_calcium_tm]

Jimmy -- Jimmy knows that. It's just... well, he's read magic books before. Some. There were talking mirrors in those, who's to say clocks can't talk?

...Erm, well. It seems a bit more ridiculous now that he's done it.

Thinking of another approach, Jimmy slowly, slowly sets the bat down and steadies it underneath his trainer. He lifts a hand up to the face, meaning to touch it. It's just taking some time; doesn't want to get shocked, or turned into a toad, or sommat.

[clockarmageddon]

At the slow speed he's going, he'll feel the tingle even before he makes contact. Sort of a hum of energy around the thing that feels kind of like a low electrical current.

[the_calcium_tm]

Oh, wow. That's weird. It reminds Jimmy of a generator, which quirks a smile on his face, but only for a moment.

And... there -- finger against Clock. Jimmy breathes.

[clockarmageddon]

Still tingling. It's just uncomfortable at the moment, but starting to work its way up toward painful the longer it's there.

[the_calcium_tm]

Jimmy waits for it to get there, just to see if maybe it stops. Which it doesn't, until, hissing a bit, he snatches his boxing-wrapped fingers back. The Clock's on the receiving end of a displeased look as Jimmy shakes out his hand. Rotten thing.

He steps back, picking the bat up with his other hand. Gives it another glare, for good measure, almost as if to say There're loads of people watching you, now, including me and this bat, but Jimmy's a little too self-conscious at the moment to actually say it out loud. (The whole 'talking to a clock' thing, that's all.)

With a last small 'accidental' kick to the Clock's base, Jimmy walks a bit sideways away from it.