FORWARD-DATED to after Clapet's victims have been identified.]thatlibbychickNovember 18 2010, 05:50:52 UTC
[After excusing herself to use one of the infirmary bathrooms, where she could be sick and cry privately, Libby wipes her face, smooths her hair and rejoins the others. It's still obvious that she's been crying, but she doesn't look gross with it anymore.]
Neil, I need to speak with you. Something's happened.
[She places her hand on his shoulder and gently leads him into an isolated corner. She will not and cannot keep him in the dark about something like this, as much as it might scare him. A healthy level of fear might keep him alive.]
[Neil's sitting on one of the cots, looking bored as hell as he looks through entry after whiny entry on his communicator. When Libby comes back from the bathroom, he looks up, thoroughly disinterested expression on his face.]
Yeah?
[Okay, so he's slightly worried, now that he sees her face. He lets her guide him to a corner.]
Things have a taken a turn for the worse. An inmate by the name of Clapet apparently panicked over the food shortage, and decided to take matters into his own hands
( ... )
What... [Neil recoils away from Libby, as though by bringing him this news, she's somehow endangering him. He doesn't even know the men who died, really. Seen Billy around, sure, but barely ever talked to the guy. Blonsky was barely even a face to him. But still, he'd seen them, practically daily. These were people he shared this stupid, fucked up boat with, and they were butchered and cooked, like this was a scene lifted from a 70s cannibal movie.]
No. No. [He looks away from Libby, at some dark wall, his expression grim, before cracking the smallest of smiles and letting out a bitter, humorless laugh.] They were cooked? [He looks at her.] What kind of fucked up nightmare is this place?! What am I doing here? Seriously, what the FUCK am I doing here?
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I'll take you to the kitchen for work each day, at which time I'll stand as an armed guard, but you're staying with me. End of discussion.
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It's not that I don't trust you, Neil--it's that I don't know everyone who can't be trusted. I only want you to be safe.
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You can laugh at me once this has all blown over without anyone being attacked, but until then I'm taking precautions. Okay?
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Neil, I need to speak with you. Something's happened.
[She places her hand on his shoulder and gently leads him into an isolated corner. She will not and cannot keep him in the dark about something like this, as much as it might scare him. A healthy level of fear might keep him alive.]
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Yeah?
[Okay, so he's slightly worried, now that he sees her face. He lets her guide him to a corner.]
What's going on?
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No. No. [He looks away from Libby, at some dark wall, his expression grim, before cracking the smallest of smiles and letting out a bitter, humorless laugh.] They were cooked? [He looks at her.] What kind of fucked up nightmare is this place?! What am I doing here? Seriously, what the FUCK am I doing here?
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