handsome bob. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eversohandsome) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxion2012-01-15 05:16 pm
eversohandsome) wrote in ataraxion2012-01-15 05:16 pm
video; 001
[Ataraxion, if you wanted a getaway driver from the streets of gangland, mobster-run London... well, you’ve got one now regardless.
Bob should probably be reacting with something a little more up the ‘fucking hell’ end of the scale, but he feels a bit sick and like he’s spent the last few days on a massive bender. More than that, he feels like his brain has been gathering dust, slow and sluggish where he’s expecting it to work a bit faster.
Everything seems to be just a little bit out of his reach, like thinking harder and trying to recall how he got in a weird looking pod thing with no clothes except his boxers... well, there’s kinky fucking shit and then there’s that. But even thinking as hard as he can manage despite the headache isn’t really getting him anywhere, the only thing he has managed is working out the new tattoo on his arm is a number that corresponds to a locker. And in that locker he found a jumpsuit, his lighter, chewing gum, his watch (now broken) and a car air freshener which all get shoved into the pocket of the outfit that makes him think of Formula 1 racing. At least he’s not mostly naked anymore?
But all of this culminates into the message he finally broadcasts to the network, unfiltered and unsecured. Anybody can find this if they’re looking...]
Think I might’ve fucked up somewhere back at Battersea. I... don’t exactly remember. Little help?
Bob should probably be reacting with something a little more up the ‘fucking hell’ end of the scale, but he feels a bit sick and like he’s spent the last few days on a massive bender. More than that, he feels like his brain has been gathering dust, slow and sluggish where he’s expecting it to work a bit faster.
Everything seems to be just a little bit out of his reach, like thinking harder and trying to recall how he got in a weird looking pod thing with no clothes except his boxers... well, there’s kinky fucking shit and then there’s that. But even thinking as hard as he can manage despite the headache isn’t really getting him anywhere, the only thing he has managed is working out the new tattoo on his arm is a number that corresponds to a locker. And in that locker he found a jumpsuit, his lighter, chewing gum, his watch (now broken) and a car air freshener which all get shoved into the pocket of the outfit that makes him think of Formula 1 racing. At least he’s not mostly naked anymore?
But all of this culminates into the message he finally broadcasts to the network, unfiltered and unsecured. Anybody can find this if they’re looking...]
Think I might’ve fucked up somewhere back at Battersea. I... don’t exactly remember. Little help?
voice;
More or less. Confused and anxious and annoyed but no worse off than you were before you got here seems to be the standard. And we haven't come up against anything too dangerous here -- unless you're allergic to sarcasm.
voice;
Sarcasm I can deal with.
voice;
Then you should get on fine. We've got a group of some strange characters forming here, but everyone's been pretty friendly so far.
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Bit of a new one for me.
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[Bob's voice has taken on a vaguely reflective tone. He loves his city but... the way she's talking he feels a bit unadventurous. Nevermind if he has a colourful job to inject some excitement into his life.]
Yeah, I must be proper odd to you.
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