[006] you blow it all with paranoia; you're so insecure you self-destroyer

[notafuckingnut]

[After the conclusion of this, there is a very worried looking Richie on-camera; wild eyes, twitching fingers, general restlessness - it's clear he's had some kind of shock and isn't handling it at all well.]

WILL SHE'S-

[Feed cuts out, only to click back on a few seconds later mid-rant]

- I FUCKING SWEAR I'M GONNA -

[Cuts out again]

[Private to Graham

Comments

[...Just cause he's a vampire atm. Feel free to ignore if not kosher.]

[expectremorse]

[Hoffman has settled into something of a routine with this. He's hoping to convince people that he's good to get out-that he can control it for the rest of the two days he'll have it. So he responds. Audio.]

Calm down, and remember the private button.

[Pshhh it's all good!]

[notafuckingnut]

[He punches the button to switch over from text with more force than entirely warranted, and now Hoffman can have a glaring and snarling Richie; anger's easier than fear, he can handle just being angry.]

Yeah, I fucking found it. And I'll calm down when I want to calm down, so shut up. What's it to you?

Re: [Pshhh it's all good!]

[expectremorse]

[Misguided concern?] Absolutely fucking nothing. Pardon me for trying to be helpful dick.

[He switches over to video. Yes. glowing eyes and teeth. because-vampire.]

God, you try to be nice and people jump down your fucking throat...

[notafuckingnut]

[That isn't a yelp, I have no idea what you're talking about. He does back away from the communicator though, knocking it over in his need to get away from it. The angle changes joltingly, showing a wonderful view of legs and shoes as it goes skittering away until it comes to a stop and rights itself somewhat, and now there's a face again but it's very far away, and promptly back to freaking out.]

You-- What the FUCK?! Is everybody a fucking vampire here?

[Because CLEARLY "four that he knows of but really only three" equals "everybody".]

Voice

[hourglass_twin]

[Have creepy high pitched laughter. He enjoys your pain, even though he has no clue what the context is.]

Voice

[notafuckingnut]

WHO'S DOING THAT?!?

[Don't mind him, he's just...extra paranoid. She was laughing at him too.]

Voice - Provoking people is even more fun over the network!

[hourglass_twin]

[More laughter. He's delighted!]

I'm sure you remember me, madman.

Voice - so.much.fun!

[notafuckingnut]

The fuck I do. CUT THAT OUT.

Private/Audio;

[grahamcommawill]

[Richie's butchering of English makes his brain hurt. Oh, look, aspirin. Let's take two. Or three.]

I can talk to you over the network, or just stop by. Which would you prefer?

Private/Audio;

[notafuckingnut]

I don't-- Uh.

[He's kicking himself; this is just an all-around terrible situation with NO good choices; he likes exactly NONE of them.]

I'd prefer my fucking brother be around.

[He always knows what to do, he'd know what to do here too.]

But, uh. If you could...

come here. I guess that'd be okay.

[Spam!]

[grahamcommawill]

Be there in five.

[This time he doesn't even bother knocking. Respect of personal space was nice and all, but only if the inmate actually wanted it. And they weren't in the midst of freaking out.]

If I could bring your brother here, believe me, I would. But right now, I'm the next best thing.

[Pause. Let that sink in.] Now. What happened?

[Spam!]

[notafuckingnut]

[He's pacing when Will gets there. He doesn't normally pace, it's not his thing; he's usually happy just to sit quietly and wait once he's sure the cavalry's on its way. But he can't, he can't get comfortable when his head's a mess of straight-up paranoia, advice on what he should be doing, what he shouldn't be doing, and everything just a jumbled mess.

But when Will gets there he stops, at least for the moment.]

Doesn't mean I can't still prefer him to you.

[It's an empty jibe, something automatic without any real intention behind it. Yes, it's the truth, but Will's here now, and Richie knows that he's supposed to help, even if he doesn't like him much.]

I told you, she's here. That fucking bitch who killed me. She's calling herself something else, Koi-hockey or something, but it's fucking her, she practically admitted to it. ...She said she'd see me in the dining room.

I need a gun. Or a stake, or...even a fucking cross or something. ...Those work, right?

[The fuck does he know? He was dead when everybody was

[failedcreator]

Such foul language.

[notafuckingnut]

Hadn't noticed. An' anyway, it wasn't meant for you, I was talking to somebody else.

[failedcreator]

Yet it was I who heard it. Perhaps it would be wise to restrain from speaking such filth in future.

[notafuckingnut]

...What filth? They're just words.

[notafuckingnut]

Oh. ...Hi Claire.

[Please hold as he tries to get to something approximating "under control". And fails. He's a little better, but that's like saying only stabbing twelve times is an improvement over thirty two; it's still less than good.]

The, uh, bitch who killed me? She's on-board, apparently. ...How the fuck does shit like that happen, that's not...

She said she was gonna find me.

[notafuckingnut]

I don't...she's not going by the same name, and she didn't seem so sure at first. She said she's been here a while. But it's her, I know it. If she so much as comes near me, I'm gonna fucking kill her, I don't care what the rules here are.

...You have a hunter?