[Visual (to everyone)]
Paul stalks away from the sink, digging out his cigarettes with one hand while punching buttons with the other to send a visual broadcast to anyone who happens to have their tablet on.
He takes a long drag on his cigarette, a long exhale, before opening his mouth to speak.
"Paul Smecker here," he says, his words short and clipped, all business now. It's just like filing a goddamn police report. Just the facts, ma'am.
"The kid calling himself Party Poison stole a personal possession of mine. The thing that showed up here with me from home," he says. Doesn't feel the need to elaborate on what it is, but while they are all here from different worlds, all here with different backgrounds, he's learned enough to know that apparently everyone gets to bring something. He doesn't know who has what, except Wyatt-- Wyatt has the horse, the horse he'd made for his son. Something important.
Paul would bet that everyone here cares about what they brought with them, on some level.
"He took it a few months ago, when I was distracted by icing his broken nose for him. He's refusing to return it, and his brother, at least, is threatening armed force if I attempt to take it back."
"In short, Party is a thief, and I advise keeping an eye on your possessions while you're in his vicinity. Maybe his brother's too for all I know. They're clearly operating on a survival level where they can't comprehend respecting the rights or property of others. So watch the things you don't want to lose.
"And if you're listening, Party? I hope to Christ you don't try and steal from someone who'll break your neck with their fancy superpowers. For your dumbass sake.
"Paul Smecker out."
He stands there a few seconds, smoking furiously, then turns on his heel to go to where he keeps the janitorial stuff, the broom and mop and scrubby brushes and the Chlorox.
He's got a mural he doesn't want on his building any more.
[ooc: Takes place immediately following this thread.]
He takes a long drag on his cigarette, a long exhale, before opening his mouth to speak.
"Paul Smecker here," he says, his words short and clipped, all business now. It's just like filing a goddamn police report. Just the facts, ma'am.
"The kid calling himself Party Poison stole a personal possession of mine. The thing that showed up here with me from home," he says. Doesn't feel the need to elaborate on what it is, but while they are all here from different worlds, all here with different backgrounds, he's learned enough to know that apparently everyone gets to bring something. He doesn't know who has what, except Wyatt-- Wyatt has the horse, the horse he'd made for his son. Something important.
Paul would bet that everyone here cares about what they brought with them, on some level.
"He took it a few months ago, when I was distracted by icing his broken nose for him. He's refusing to return it, and his brother, at least, is threatening armed force if I attempt to take it back."
"In short, Party is a thief, and I advise keeping an eye on your possessions while you're in his vicinity. Maybe his brother's too for all I know. They're clearly operating on a survival level where they can't comprehend respecting the rights or property of others. So watch the things you don't want to lose.
"And if you're listening, Party? I hope to Christ you don't try and steal from someone who'll break your neck with their fancy superpowers. For your dumbass sake.
"Paul Smecker out."
He stands there a few seconds, smoking furiously, then turns on his heel to go to where he keeps the janitorial stuff, the broom and mop and scrubby brushes and the Chlorox.
He's got a mural he doesn't want on his building any more.
[ooc: Takes place immediately following this thread.]