How to Use This Thread:
This is a place for what I like to call IC banter. It's a place to stretch your RP legs and have all those fun IC sidebar conversations that breath some life into the group dynamic of this "team". Karma will certainly be awarded for good RP but keep in mind that I really don't want to be supervising PC combat or dice rolls or whatever. If two characters get into a scuffle (physical or mental) just pose it out and OOC come to a conclusion over who would win and how it would go down.
NOTE: This thread doesn't have to obey the usual 1 week posting guideline. RP evolves as it evolves, if you'd like to wait for another players response please note that in your post.
I'm sure more guidance will emerge as we get deeper into the game but for now just remember to start your posts with a timestamp/location so we know where the hell you are and what the hell you're doing.
Eh... this will be easier if we just start. Initial post to start and you are all welcome to jump in as you see fit.
Full Version: IC: Not So Subtle Madness, The Break Room
RESERVED
You know, in case we need it for something.
You know, in case we need it for something.
>>>2100 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
The MAC break room in the Downtown central office is down right depressing. The phrase "Tragedy of the commons" would aptly describe the chaos that blankets this room. The chemiluminescence overhead strips were changed out recently and the bright light only serves to highlight the two overflowing trashcans and the dented yellowing refrigerators. Empty and mostly empty food containers litter the room, their failing RFID tags attempting to summon someone to throw them away. Various handwritten or typed signs are taped all over the room and the fridges in particular. "Clean Up After Yourself!" and "Label Your Food Or It's Mine!" are a few of the tamer entries.
A cheap but massive faux-wood table runs the length of the room; from the door to the 15 year old trid display that never seems to work right and certainly doesn't get more than a handful of channels. The table is in compliance with MAC equal opportunity regulation and is high enough to seat trolls although troll size stools are usually pushed to one corner unless they're being used. Fraggin things are heavy a shit. Generations of MAC officers have used this table and the wear from leaking boxes of cheap thai and gear have left their mark. Some of the old timers claim that when the MAC was first expanded to include "paranormal pests" that this table was used for impromptu surgeries following a nasty round of devil rat bites. Probably horseshit but it does make you want to lay a napkin down before settling in for a meal. The chairs circling the table are a bit out of place. "Rescued" during a barghest epidemic years ago they're comfortable executive chairs that are almost perfect save for the one that's missing a wheel and still has buckshot buried in the seat cushions.
The chairs circling the table are a bit out of place. "Rescued" during a barghest epidemic years ago they're comfortable executive chairs that are almost perfect save for the one that's missing a wheel and still has buckshot buried in the seat cushions.
There are no less than three coffee makers in this room, all of them salvaged and only one of them seems to work at any given time. Each maker has acquired it's own distinct flavor and protracted shouting matches have erupted over the relative merits of the soykaf served from one or the others. This week the 4 liter Saeder-Krupp machine appears to be working and the brew it dispenses should probably be eaten rather than drunk. Anyone attempting to clean these machines is likely to be shanked or beaten. Or both.
You're entitled to breaks at this job... but they never had to be nice breaks.
It's about an hour before shift change, and your first night on the job. The break room is empty save for the sound of perpetual percolation and the dayshifts dying fridge.
The MAC break room in the Downtown central office is down right depressing. The phrase "Tragedy of the commons" would aptly describe the chaos that blankets this room. The chemiluminescence overhead strips were changed out recently and the bright light only serves to highlight the two overflowing trashcans and the dented yellowing refrigerators. Empty and mostly empty food containers litter the room, their failing RFID tags attempting to summon someone to throw them away. Various handwritten or typed signs are taped all over the room and the fridges in particular. "Clean Up After Yourself!" and "Label Your Food Or It's Mine!" are a few of the tamer entries.
A cheap but massive faux-wood table runs the length of the room; from the door to the 15 year old trid display that never seems to work right and certainly doesn't get more than a handful of channels. The table is in compliance with MAC equal opportunity regulation and is high enough to seat trolls although troll size stools are usually pushed to one corner unless they're being used. Fraggin things are heavy a shit. Generations of MAC officers have used this table and the wear from leaking boxes of cheap thai and gear have left their mark. Some of the old timers claim that when the MAC was first expanded to include "paranormal pests" that this table was used for impromptu surgeries following a nasty round of devil rat bites. Probably horseshit but it does make you want to lay a napkin down before settling in for a meal. The chairs circling the table are a bit out of place. "Rescued" during a barghest epidemic years ago they're comfortable executive chairs that are almost perfect save for the one that's missing a wheel and still has buckshot buried in the seat cushions.
The chairs circling the table are a bit out of place. "Rescued" during a barghest epidemic years ago they're comfortable executive chairs that are almost perfect save for the one that's missing a wheel and still has buckshot buried in the seat cushions.
There are no less than three coffee makers in this room, all of them salvaged and only one of them seems to work at any given time. Each maker has acquired it's own distinct flavor and protracted shouting matches have erupted over the relative merits of the soykaf served from one or the others. This week the 4 liter Saeder-Krupp machine appears to be working and the brew it dispenses should probably be eaten rather than drunk. Anyone attempting to clean these machines is likely to be shanked or beaten. Or both.
You're entitled to breaks at this job... but they never had to be nice breaks.
It's about an hour before shift change, and your first night on the job. The break room is empty save for the sound of perpetual percolation and the dayshifts dying fridge.
>>>2100 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"Guys, why ist the Saeder-Krupp on again? Wasn't someone fixing the Horizon Expresso-king? So now we eats soy-sludge, instead of having soykafs" comes a bitter complaint, emanating from the local Viking, who's sitting at a table in a reclaimed chair. Decked out in black leather and spikes, of course.
"And who drank my meads! There was a label on it!"
"Guys, why ist the Saeder-Krupp on again? Wasn't someone fixing the Horizon Expresso-king? So now we eats soy-sludge, instead of having soykafs" comes a bitter complaint, emanating from the local Viking, who's sitting at a table in a reclaimed chair. Decked out in black leather and spikes, of course.
"And who drank my meads! There was a label on it!"
>>>2101 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"Obviously someone needs to review their employee AR handout." Remarks a squat female troll in her 30's. Her horns are well manicured and tipped with faux-orichalium end caps, a popular trend this season. She saddles up to the S-K coffee maker and fills up a battered yellow thermos, a pleasant but otherwise unremarkable perfume wafts by S*P. "Perhaps you should review the section about the consumption of alcoholic beverages on duty... or the bit about how guns and synth-alcohol don't mix." She looks down at S*P over the top of her thermos. "And aren't we a snippy for our first day? Haven't even been issued a uniform yet."
"Obviously someone needs to review their employee AR handout." Remarks a squat female troll in her 30's. Her horns are well manicured and tipped with faux-orichalium end caps, a popular trend this season. She saddles up to the S-K coffee maker and fills up a battered yellow thermos, a pleasant but otherwise unremarkable perfume wafts by S*P. "Perhaps you should review the section about the consumption of alcoholic beverages on duty... or the bit about how guns and synth-alcohol don't mix." She looks down at S*P over the top of her thermos. "And aren't we a snippy for our first day? Haven't even been issued a uniform yet."
>>>2100 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
A goth elf sits in a corner, cleaning a Manhunter. She stares at the gun morosely for a while, then sighs and speaks up in a voice that is far too cheerful to have actually come from her, "This is a terrible weapon! It's not even cool at all. Generic grip, generic muzzle... heck, it doesn't even have a lightning bolt painted on it or anything! How boring..."
A goth elf sits in a corner, cleaning a Manhunter. She stares at the gun morosely for a while, then sighs and speaks up in a voice that is far too cheerful to have actually come from her, "This is a terrible weapon! It's not even cool at all. Generic grip, generic muzzle... heck, it doesn't even have a lightning bolt painted on it or anything! How boring..."
>>>2102 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"I can lends you some corpsepaint to give little gun lightning bolts if you is wanting that. Ands they not gives me uniform yet! Am I suppossed to cleans the bloods of mien leathers everytime I kills a devil rat?" comes the reply, along with a glare at the troll lady.
"I can lends you some corpsepaint to give little gun lightning bolts if you is wanting that. Ands they not gives me uniform yet! Am I suppossed to cleans the bloods of mien leathers everytime I kills a devil rat?" comes the reply, along with a glare at the troll lady.
>>>2102 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
The elf that enters the room mid-conversation skips right past the row of coffee machines, a can of green tea in hand. For his first day of honest work Mosaic had decided to tone down his look somewhat. Of course, toning it down involved not gelling his two tone hair into a formation that would make most New Jersey boardwalk babes jealous by it's volume, and keeping it to a simple black with silver highlights. His attire is similarly restrained, blood red leather pants that look painted on they're so tight, two t-shirts - one long sleeved and black with runes worked upon it in a gray only a shade less than black, and the other with a stylized Troll skull upon the back, the logo of an obscure band from the netherreaches of Europe - he only wears a pair of chains at his hip, and what looks like a shrunken head, and he has enough forethought to remove his mirrored shades when he enters, kicking some manner of grit off of his battered combat boots. His gaze flickers from amongst the gathered group, and he reaches out to an unseen AR window, twisting his hand about, and scrolling through the information displayed therein.
`Article thirty-two, sub-section alpha-five-point-four states that the consumption of alcohol may be approved for special occassions in MAC break rooms. Of course this isn't a state approved holiday or a supervisor's birthday, so it seems unlikely.`
He pops the tab on the can of green tea, activating the self-heating mechanism, and he sits down at the conference table, kicking his feet up. Fumbling about on his person, he retrieves a small pouch from Ghede knows where, and considers it a moment.
`We still have time for a smoke?`
He won't consider the deepweed, not at the moment, but he has a few small hand rolled cigars, with just enough green in them to take the edge off.
The elf that enters the room mid-conversation skips right past the row of coffee machines, a can of green tea in hand. For his first day of honest work Mosaic had decided to tone down his look somewhat. Of course, toning it down involved not gelling his two tone hair into a formation that would make most New Jersey boardwalk babes jealous by it's volume, and keeping it to a simple black with silver highlights. His attire is similarly restrained, blood red leather pants that look painted on they're so tight, two t-shirts - one long sleeved and black with runes worked upon it in a gray only a shade less than black, and the other with a stylized Troll skull upon the back, the logo of an obscure band from the netherreaches of Europe - he only wears a pair of chains at his hip, and what looks like a shrunken head, and he has enough forethought to remove his mirrored shades when he enters, kicking some manner of grit off of his battered combat boots. His gaze flickers from amongst the gathered group, and he reaches out to an unseen AR window, twisting his hand about, and scrolling through the information displayed therein.
`Article thirty-two, sub-section alpha-five-point-four states that the consumption of alcohol may be approved for special occassions in MAC break rooms. Of course this isn't a state approved holiday or a supervisor's birthday, so it seems unlikely.`
He pops the tab on the can of green tea, activating the self-heating mechanism, and he sits down at the conference table, kicking his feet up. Fumbling about on his person, he retrieves a small pouch from Ghede knows where, and considers it a moment.
`We still have time for a smoke?`
He won't consider the deepweed, not at the moment, but he has a few small hand rolled cigars, with just enough green in them to take the edge off.
>>>2103 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Ezekiel entered the room quietly through the door that had been left cracked by the last person through it. He probably looked a little shady lurking in with his hands in his leather, fur-lined jacket pockets, his hair falling into his face, and a worn look around his eyes suggesting someone who doesn't sleep regularly. Not to mention the katana strapped behind his right shoulder. But he had hoped and assumed that none of these things would draw too much attention, given the setting and nature of this job, but it was his blade he was most worried about getting in trouble for, as he had a habit of keeping it on his person even if it drew some unwanted stares.
He walked around the perimeter of the room to avoid interrupting the conversations already being held, and pulled up a chair a comfortable distance away from everyone. Being more of a wall-flower than a social butterfly, he generally opted to not speak unless spoken to. He was more than a little bit socially uncomfortable.
He dropped into the chair, thinking of reclining with his feet on the edge of the table, but as soon as his ass hit the cushion the chair rocked and flipped, due to the missing wheel. With reflexes and salvaging a small amount of grace he grabbed the chair and the table to keep everything from hitting the ground.
"Shit" he muttered, trying not to look like a complete ass within the first five minutes of meeting these people.
Slightly embarrassed, he propped up the leg of the chair missing a wheel with a sturdy looking chunk of trash laying around, and noticed as he put his hand on the seat to test its stability a mass of buckshot buried unevenly in the seat. For some reason he liked this chair, so he pulled up another spare chair and pulled out a small knife he had hidden in his jacket. He leaned forward, pulled some of the hair in his face behind his ear, and began to meticulously dig out some of the buckshot in this sorry looking chair with his knife.
Ezekiel entered the room quietly through the door that had been left cracked by the last person through it. He probably looked a little shady lurking in with his hands in his leather, fur-lined jacket pockets, his hair falling into his face, and a worn look around his eyes suggesting someone who doesn't sleep regularly. Not to mention the katana strapped behind his right shoulder. But he had hoped and assumed that none of these things would draw too much attention, given the setting and nature of this job, but it was his blade he was most worried about getting in trouble for, as he had a habit of keeping it on his person even if it drew some unwanted stares.
He walked around the perimeter of the room to avoid interrupting the conversations already being held, and pulled up a chair a comfortable distance away from everyone. Being more of a wall-flower than a social butterfly, he generally opted to not speak unless spoken to. He was more than a little bit socially uncomfortable.
He dropped into the chair, thinking of reclining with his feet on the edge of the table, but as soon as his ass hit the cushion the chair rocked and flipped, due to the missing wheel. With reflexes and salvaging a small amount of grace he grabbed the chair and the table to keep everything from hitting the ground.
"Shit" he muttered, trying not to look like a complete ass within the first five minutes of meeting these people.
Slightly embarrassed, he propped up the leg of the chair missing a wheel with a sturdy looking chunk of trash laying around, and noticed as he put his hand on the seat to test its stability a mass of buckshot buried unevenly in the seat. For some reason he liked this chair, so he pulled up another spare chair and pulled out a small knife he had hidden in his jacket. He leaned forward, pulled some of the hair in his face behind his ear, and began to meticulously dig out some of the buckshot in this sorry looking chair with his knife.
>>>2105 HRS, 06JUN20701: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Lola pushes the door to the break room open, smiling to herself. She knew that if she had fussed over her clothes, her guns, she was going to be late. And here she was, late, but at least she looked good and her guns were polished real nicely. Stepping through the door, she smiled as best as she could. "Well, G'evenin Y'all."
She looked around the room nervously, realizing how out of place her greeting had been. Realizing that all of the seats were filled, she decided to lean against a far wall and began to fidget with one of her pistols.
Lola pushes the door to the break room open, smiling to herself. She knew that if she had fussed over her clothes, her guns, she was going to be late. And here she was, late, but at least she looked good and her guns were polished real nicely. Stepping through the door, she smiled as best as she could. "Well, G'evenin Y'all."
She looked around the room nervously, realizing how out of place her greeting had been. Realizing that all of the seats were filled, she decided to lean against a far wall and began to fidget with one of her pistols.
>>>2105 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Having successfully dug out a majority of the buckshot from his chair, Ezekiel brushed the remnants of chair cushion that had been cut out of the seat onto the floor. He sheathed his knife back where he had kept it concealed within his jacket and took a moment to admire his handiwork. It was still nowhere near as nice as the rest of the chairs, but it didn't bother him much. He made a second attempt at sitting in that raggedy chair, this time succeeding in staying seated.
Ezekiel hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings while he worked, and now noticed a new person in the room; and that he had taken the last chair.
"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to hog all the chairs." he said more quietly than one would have expected out of him based on his appearance. He rolled the chair he had been using while performing maintenance lightly towards the cheery elf that had entered the break room most recently.
Having successfully dug out a majority of the buckshot from his chair, Ezekiel brushed the remnants of chair cushion that had been cut out of the seat onto the floor. He sheathed his knife back where he had kept it concealed within his jacket and took a moment to admire his handiwork. It was still nowhere near as nice as the rest of the chairs, but it didn't bother him much. He made a second attempt at sitting in that raggedy chair, this time succeeding in staying seated.
Ezekiel hadn't been paying much attention to his surroundings while he worked, and now noticed a new person in the room; and that he had taken the last chair.
"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to hog all the chairs." he said more quietly than one would have expected out of him based on his appearance. He rolled the chair he had been using while performing maintenance lightly towards the cheery elf that had entered the break room most recently.
>>>2106 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
S*P leans against the wall as best the spikes sprouting his leather let him. Thinking of a quote from the Havamal, 'To ask wisely and answer correctly are the marks of a wise man', he tries to figure out what to ask wisely. Suddenly, it comes to him:
"So, vhy ist you peoples working here? Got a reason, or just like sending das ghouls to Valhalla?" S*P asks, trying to look as smart as he can, "Me, I's here because I do this kind work back in Finland. Good practice with mien axe, ands I vants to see the vorlds. Needs money for that though, so heres I ams!"
S*P leans against the wall as best the spikes sprouting his leather let him. Thinking of a quote from the Havamal, 'To ask wisely and answer correctly are the marks of a wise man', he tries to figure out what to ask wisely. Suddenly, it comes to him:
"So, vhy ist you peoples working here? Got a reason, or just like sending das ghouls to Valhalla?" S*P asks, trying to look as smart as he can, "Me, I's here because I do this kind work back in Finland. Good practice with mien axe, ands I vants to see the vorlds. Needs money for that though, so heres I ams!"
>>>2106 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
The female troll sighs slightly as the newbies pack into the break room and she quickly screws the top of her thermos on. First she addresses S*P first.
"Your mead is in the bosses fridge, he says you can have it back after your shift but that he doesn't want to see you bringing booze to work again." She regards Doakes with a sly smile and continues. "Ah... a man after my own heart. It's rare we get anyone who actually reads those regulation AR handouts we give out. Thank you. Oh and of course you can smoke, your shift doesn't start for another 45 minutes or so." She turns and heads towards the door, stopping to regard Wolfen while he desperately tries to get comfortable. After a moment she cuts in.
"Now I'm fairly certain you were told to leave that in the armory..." She taps a finger on the grip of his katana.
The female troll sighs slightly as the newbies pack into the break room and she quickly screws the top of her thermos on. First she addresses S*P first.
"Your mead is in the bosses fridge, he says you can have it back after your shift but that he doesn't want to see you bringing booze to work again." She regards Doakes with a sly smile and continues. "Ah... a man after my own heart. It's rare we get anyone who actually reads those regulation AR handouts we give out. Thank you. Oh and of course you can smoke, your shift doesn't start for another 45 minutes or so." She turns and heads towards the door, stopping to regard Wolfen while he desperately tries to get comfortable. After a moment she cuts in.
"Now I'm fairly certain you were told to leave that in the armory..." She taps a finger on the grip of his katana.
>>>2106 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Ezekiel smirked a little at the question, finding some humor in its phrasing. After a few moments of silence waiting for other people to answer, he decided to speak up.
"I guess for me it would be somewhere in between liking to 'send das ghouls to Valhalla' and my distaste for 'normal' jobs." he said jokingly. Now that he thought on it, he didn't have any real direction at the moment...
Then, the now slightly irritated troll, who he presumed was in charge of all the newbies this night, asked him about his less-than-subtle weapon.
"Right, sorry...where exactly is the armory?" Ezekiel said as he turned to face the female troll.
Ezekiel smirked a little at the question, finding some humor in its phrasing. After a few moments of silence waiting for other people to answer, he decided to speak up.
"I guess for me it would be somewhere in between liking to 'send das ghouls to Valhalla' and my distaste for 'normal' jobs." he said jokingly. Now that he thought on it, he didn't have any real direction at the moment...
Then, the now slightly irritated troll, who he presumed was in charge of all the newbies this night, asked him about his less-than-subtle weapon.
"Right, sorry...where exactly is the armory?" Ezekiel said as he turned to face the female troll.
>>>2107 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Martin hurries down the hall, checking the AR display in his specs as he heads for the break room. He's moving at a fast walk, muttering "Late, late, late, damn." Reaching the open door, he pokes his head inside and looks briefly at the people and furniture inside; this is obviously the break room he where he was told to go. He steps inside.
"Sorry, I'm sorry I'm late. I was waiting for my train when some chiphead horked all over me, I had to... change..." His voice drifts off as he looks around the room for a place to sit. He unslings the small black duffel from his shoulder and puts his hand on the back of the empty chair. "Is, uh, is this seat... can I sit here?"
Martin hurries down the hall, checking the AR display in his specs as he heads for the break room. He's moving at a fast walk, muttering "Late, late, late, damn." Reaching the open door, he pokes his head inside and looks briefly at the people and furniture inside; this is obviously the break room he where he was told to go. He steps inside.
"Sorry, I'm sorry I'm late. I was waiting for my train when some chiphead horked all over me, I had to... change..." His voice drifts off as he looks around the room for a place to sit. He unslings the small black duffel from his shoulder and puts his hand on the back of the empty chair. "Is, uh, is this seat... can I sit here?"
>>>2107 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
Considering the gathered people, his new co-workers, a moment, Mosaic's features crack into a half-grin, his eyes slightly out of focus. He regards S*P a long moment, as if to weigh his answer, though in truth he is answering a posting on a forum on magical phenomenon, and watching a video-log entry from one of his favorite P2.0 personalities. `Considering my... spotty education, and my lack of real work experience, my options are limited.` He scratches at his trodes a moment, frustrated idly by the way they displace his hair. `The job intrigues me, however. Though I can't be sure what it is.`
Turning to regard Ezekiel, he takes a heartbeat to recall the layout of the building, not bothering with the AR interface he'd called up before coming, instead distilling the details from his mind. `The armory was your second door on the left from entering. Across from the janitorial supply closet.`
And, in a heartbeat, as Martin has just entered and inquired about the last chair apparently in the building, he answers. `I believe the young lady was just offered the chair, though I'm sure she is capable of defending it herself. The musical chairs rule is in effect, isn't it?` His smile is affable enough, and there is a cross of vacancy and friendly banter in his voice. He should probably turn off the AR for the moment, but it's distracting him from the fact he hasn't seen the astral since the middle of the week before.
Considering a moment, Mosaic casts a window open to probe the MAC's Matrix node, more in the interest of distracting himself than anything else.
Considering the gathered people, his new co-workers, a moment, Mosaic's features crack into a half-grin, his eyes slightly out of focus. He regards S*P a long moment, as if to weigh his answer, though in truth he is answering a posting on a forum on magical phenomenon, and watching a video-log entry from one of his favorite P2.0 personalities. `Considering my... spotty education, and my lack of real work experience, my options are limited.` He scratches at his trodes a moment, frustrated idly by the way they displace his hair. `The job intrigues me, however. Though I can't be sure what it is.`
Turning to regard Ezekiel, he takes a heartbeat to recall the layout of the building, not bothering with the AR interface he'd called up before coming, instead distilling the details from his mind. `The armory was your second door on the left from entering. Across from the janitorial supply closet.`
And, in a heartbeat, as Martin has just entered and inquired about the last chair apparently in the building, he answers. `I believe the young lady was just offered the chair, though I'm sure she is capable of defending it herself. The musical chairs rule is in effect, isn't it?` His smile is affable enough, and there is a cross of vacancy and friendly banter in his voice. He should probably turn off the AR for the moment, but it's distracting him from the fact he hasn't seen the astral since the middle of the week before.
Considering a moment, Mosaic casts a window open to probe the MAC's Matrix node, more in the interest of distracting himself than anything else.
>>>2107 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
He was talking more than he usually did around new people, albeit still not much, but he summed it up to be the fact that he hated awkward silences more than feeling awkward in a conversation.
"Alright, thanks." Ezekiel says as he stands up from his homely resting place, giving Mosaic a nod. He quickly drew his katana, pulled the scabbard through the bottom of the leather straps attaching it to his jacket, and then re-sheathed it.
"Here you go, I don't mind standing." He said, whipping his chair around for Martin. "I'll be right back, I guess."
Ezekiel walked quietly out of the break room and away from his new co-workers and, partly down the hall to the door of the armory. He opened the door and began looking for a place to store his weapon.
He was talking more than he usually did around new people, albeit still not much, but he summed it up to be the fact that he hated awkward silences more than feeling awkward in a conversation.
"Alright, thanks." Ezekiel says as he stands up from his homely resting place, giving Mosaic a nod. He quickly drew his katana, pulled the scabbard through the bottom of the leather straps attaching it to his jacket, and then re-sheathed it.
"Here you go, I don't mind standing." He said, whipping his chair around for Martin. "I'll be right back, I guess."
Ezekiel walked quietly out of the break room and away from his new co-workers and, partly down the hall to the door of the armory. He opened the door and began looking for a place to store his weapon.
>>>2107 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
The goth elf hops up and scurries over to Ezekiel's side. "Hey, I'll come with you. Maybe there'll be some cooler guns in the armory, you know? And I have to show you my new pistol! I just got it last week! It's soooo awesome. Oh, by the way, my name's Kerrigan. What's yours? So my new pistol. It's a Colt Government 2066. I had it customized in so many ways... I got..." With that, Kerrigan's off, babbling about how awesome her gun is and basically dragging Ezekiel down the hall.
The goth elf hops up and scurries over to Ezekiel's side. "Hey, I'll come with you. Maybe there'll be some cooler guns in the armory, you know? And I have to show you my new pistol! I just got it last week! It's soooo awesome. Oh, by the way, my name's Kerrigan. What's yours? So my new pistol. It's a Colt Government 2066. I had it customized in so many ways... I got..." With that, Kerrigan's off, babbling about how awesome her gun is and basically dragging Ezekiel down the hall.
>>>2107 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"Thanks!" Martin calls back to the rapidly departing Ezekiel. He drops his bag on the now-empty chair and takes off his field jacket, draping it over the back. "Hey, soykaf." He heads to the working percolator and grabs a synthfoam cup from a stack next to it. He waves a confirmation at the AR popup, which deducts half a nuyen from his account, and tips the pot to pour himself a cup.
And then frowns at the pot, which apparently doesn't feel like pouring tonight.
He shakes it a couple times, and abruptly the soykaf *blorps* out into the synthfoam. A few drops splash onto Martin's hand, and he inhales sharply through his teeth.
"Ow! Damn!" He quickly sets the pot back into the Sader-Krupp machine and switches the cup to his free hand. He wipes the drops off on his pants, shaking the slightly burned fingers. "You know, the pot wouldn't skin over like that if you'd clean out the machine once in a while."
He grabs an orange packet of artificial sweetener and a couple Kreem-o's® and walks back to his seat.
"Thanks!" Martin calls back to the rapidly departing Ezekiel. He drops his bag on the now-empty chair and takes off his field jacket, draping it over the back. "Hey, soykaf." He heads to the working percolator and grabs a synthfoam cup from a stack next to it. He waves a confirmation at the AR popup, which deducts half a nuyen from his account, and tips the pot to pour himself a cup.
And then frowns at the pot, which apparently doesn't feel like pouring tonight.
He shakes it a couple times, and abruptly the soykaf *blorps* out into the synthfoam. A few drops splash onto Martin's hand, and he inhales sharply through his teeth.
"Ow! Damn!" He quickly sets the pot back into the Sader-Krupp machine and switches the cup to his free hand. He wipes the drops off on his pants, shaking the slightly burned fingers. "You know, the pot wouldn't skin over like that if you'd clean out the machine once in a while."
He grabs an orange packet of artificial sweetener and a couple Kreem-o's® and walks back to his seat.
>>>2109 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"Hi, I'm Ezekiel-" he managed to get out before being overwhelmed by Kerrigan's enthused gun speech. He wasn't trying to be rude, but a light glaze settled over his face, as Ezekiel knew little to nothing about the technical ins and outs of guns.
"Uh, yeah I...um...yeah?...I don't really...um...." he interjected here and there. All and all, he made it to the armory in one piece. For a moment, Kerrigan paused (if you could call it that- "pause" is a relative term here). and Ezekiel took the brief opportunity to speak. "So, I take it you like guns." he said in a simultaneously joking and sarcastic way, with the little bit of awkwardness of a person not used to being talked to; especially so...intensely.
After a few minutes of checking the room out and finding either full or beat-to-shit lockers, he found the armorer, who gladly took his katana. He thanked her warmly and made his way back to the break room.
"Hi, I'm Ezekiel-" he managed to get out before being overwhelmed by Kerrigan's enthused gun speech. He wasn't trying to be rude, but a light glaze settled over his face, as Ezekiel knew little to nothing about the technical ins and outs of guns.
"Uh, yeah I...um...yeah?...I don't really...um...." he interjected here and there. All and all, he made it to the armory in one piece. For a moment, Kerrigan paused (if you could call it that- "pause" is a relative term here). and Ezekiel took the brief opportunity to speak. "So, I take it you like guns." he said in a simultaneously joking and sarcastic way, with the little bit of awkwardness of a person not used to being talked to; especially so...intensely.
After a few minutes of checking the room out and finding either full or beat-to-shit lockers, he found the armorer, who gladly took his katana. He thanked her warmly and made his way back to the break room.
>>>2110 HRS, 06JUN2071: Municipal Animal Control Central Office: Break Room>>>
"Hi, I'm Alan, pleased to meet you all." A smiling man walks through the door, looks around and starts shaking hands (That is if you don't glare too much
). After getting introduced he looks for a chair and settles on sitting on the table.
"Hey if this uniform is suposedly good against bites it'l survive some splinters and whatever THAT is." He shifts away from some ominous substance spilled onto the surface and looking around again asks "So you all worked with animals before? Cause, you know, I'm new to this stuff.".
"Hi, I'm Alan, pleased to meet you all." A smiling man walks through the door, looks around and starts shaking hands (That is if you don't glare too much
). After getting introduced he looks for a chair and settles on sitting on the table."Hey if this uniform is suposedly good against bites it'l survive some splinters and whatever THAT is." He shifts away from some ominous substance spilled onto the surface and looking around again asks "So you all worked with animals before? Cause, you know, I'm new to this stuff.".
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