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[Rhys shows up on-camera, his brows furrowed slightly at the communications device. You're probably gonna notice pretty quickly that there's a mechanical port on the side of his head, and the corresponding eye is a bright, unnatural blue. And, of course, that he's sporting a yellow mechanical arm in place of an actual biological one.

But hey, nobody's perfect. Without much further ado, he turns the phone over so the camera is facing the floor, and there's definitely the sound of some buttons being pressed, some tampering that sounds like he's attempting to remove the back panel.]

Oh, for the love of- [The phone drops to the floor, the screen going dark. Rhys picks it up a minute later, flipping it back over so the camera is facing him again.] What kind of backwards tech is this? You have the technology to teleport us to different realities and you decide to give us an outdated ECHO recorder that my grandma could have built?

Look, is anyone on this junkheap versed with the network systems you've got going here? 'cause I've got the same functions in my arm and that's way more convenient for me. I've been trying to access it directly, but it'll probably take me awhile. If anyone knows how to cut corners, you know, now's the time to be helpful.

Also, hey. I'm Rhys: hero from Hyperion, new arrival, good with technology. [A pause, and then-] ...and if any of you are from Pandora, then you should know that I'm a totally laidback and innocent guy, and I didn't do it.

[[ooc: Forgot to post this earlier, but here is Rhys' Permissions post!]]

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[sarcasm earns a one-sided smile.] Always glad to be helpful.

[she's not confiding, really. discouraging, maybe. it hasn't occurred to her that anyone would consider the things that have happened to her as hideously awful as they are. much of it was perpetrated in some way or another by her family, after all, and none of it has killed her. she doesn't have any base measure for the amount of suffering one may normally expect in a lifetime. besides, sophie has decided that for some reason she actually likes him, despite myriad obvious flaws, and it would be a shame to have him attempt to turn on her.]

So what is it that you want to accomplish, by taking over your company?

[Rhys simply manages a shrug, downing the last of his drink for the second time. He doesn't get up for a third right away.]

Same as anyone else, I'd imagine. Fame, power, riches- it's not like I have a sob story about a family I need to support or whatever. I'm in it for me and my friends.

What are you going to do, though? Power is lovely and all, but you have to wield it or you'll be unseated just as fast as whoever you're planning to dethrone. I don't understand.

I know how to play it with these guys.

[He shrugs, lifting his mechanical arm, curling his fingers slightly. He's definitely buzzed now, and it's always kind of funny to him, how he doesn't really feel the typical heaviness in his robot arm. Makes it seem more separate from his body than it already is.

But! That's some weird introspective stuff, and not the point of the whole lifting-arm spiel.]

Before Handsome Jack took over, Hyperion's color scheme was black and red. Not like, chrome black, just flat, mechanical. We were practically Vladoff knockoffs with slower firing rates and stabilizers that we didn't know how to market. But he- man, he brought class to the company. Yellow and white, bold thick stripes, new fonts, new weapon names, new advertisement campaign. Guns sold like frigging hotcakes.

[He chuckles to himself, lowering his arm.] 'When you mean business, you mean Hyperion'. Always liked that one.

Anyway, I figure I'd keep pushing the company that way. Classy, sleek, top dollar. Kill any of the sharks circling the water below me, eliminate the dick-measuring that takes up too much corporate resources, and run a tight, efficient ship.

See, now that's a plan. Or at least the start of one.

[he's showboating and she knows it, but sophie doesn't really understand power for the sake of power. look what power did to her father, what it made him do. what it's done to her. the choice francescu made, to take his incredible power and sequester it from the world so he didn't have to make choices or fear consequences. she doesn't understand half the words rhys says but they sound like fluff to her. it sounds like this jack, whoever he was, changed the appearance of things, and that was enough, because people are so terribly naive. she swings her feet, watching her skirts billow and flow.

how sad, she thinks, that if rhys wins he will be corrupted by his power, and if he loses, he'll be crushed beneath someone else's. such is life, as she understands it, for those who reach for power. but there's another important, lingering question.]

This Handsome Jack, what happened to him?

[We're going to ignore how that made me incredibly sad.

Instead, Rhys falters a little at the question, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. It's not exactly- well, he doesn't need to hide what happened to Jack, but he knows that he needs to watch what he says here, lest he encounter the ire of the Artificial Intelligence currently living in his skull. So, there's a significant pause, before he shrugs, tapping the base of his glass against the counter.]

He was killed. By bandits- or, well, Vault Hunters. Trying to harness the power of-

['Woah woah, say what now? Don't lie to the woman, Rhys!'

He cuts off there for a moment, before continuing slowly. Of course, thank you, this is what he was afraid of.]

-of a Vault.

['Hold your horses, kiddo. I'm not dead. You see, heroes, they don't- they don't die. Don't be ridiculous.'

Rhys doesn't know what to say in response. Maybe if he ignores it, it'll go away?]

[that was not subtle, rhys. sophie's watching him even more closely now, and what she sees is suddenly not insecurity hidden beneath gin and bravado, but actual fear. that's new. and it has something to do with this handsome jack, who he had just spoken of as a shining hero.

her pause after he finishes is just a little too long, and there's a tiny wrinkle between her brows before her face eases again. this time there's something just slightly false in that ease. jack is invisible and inaudible to her, but nevertheless he's been noticed, or at least something has definitely been noticed. she asks the safest question.]

What is a Vault?

A Vault.

[Rhys things for a moment, idly tracing his organic hand over the condensation on the counter in the shape of a circle with an upside-down 'V' in the center. He stares at it for a moment, before 'what the hell do you mean I'm dead? TALK TO ME' and quickly presses his hand against it, wiping the symbol away.]

I- uh, it's like treasure hunting. They're these massive underground structures that are supposed to contain a cache of alien technology and-

['Don't talk to her, talk to me.']

-and people, the look for them for riches or power or- or anything else. [Rhys' voice is growing increasingly more high pitched as he continues, distracted, nervous, and after a moment he drops his glass on the counter and moves to stand, shaking his head.]

I, uh... look, this has been fun but I think I need to, uh- [Rhys trips a little on his chair, stumbling and reaching for something that's not there for support. His hand flies right through the air, fingers grasping at it like he expects there to be something there. But there's not, and he very nearly loses his balance because of it.] -I need to go.

Edited 2015-03-28 05:59 (UTC)

[what ends up being there is sophie's arm, catching him. she's drunk and tiny and he's off-balance and tall, but she doesn't seem to struggle with his weight. of course, she isn't letting go of him, either, her grip a reassuring sort of firm, not a confining one.

she's seen this before. well, not this, exactly, but it was always obvious when francescu or manfred's shoulder angels or devils were speaking to them, the way they seemed distracted, heads tilted slightly toward where no one was. ]

Rhys. What's wrong? Who is speaking to you?

[she's searching rhys' face, but beneath her hair her ears are shifting subtly, trying to find any hint of sound at all. she never could with the shoulder angels or devils, but somehow she doubts rhys has a pair of those.]

Edited 2015-03-28 06:16 (UTC)

What? Nobody, nobody is talking to me.

['I'm talking to you, you moron. Would you get with the freaking program already? I will rip your goddamn throat out, so help me-'

Rhys tries to pull his arm away from her, taking another step back and watching the room spin slightly ahead of him. He's a little tipsy. He's- god, this is not the right state of mind to be in for this.]

You're talking to me. I'm drunk. I talk to myself when I'm drunk, am I talking to myself? It happens sometimes. [A pause, and then:] I need to get back before I, uh, throw up on you. I do that sometimes. When I'm drunk also. It's another thing that I do when I drink. Puking. And talking to myself. I'm a terrible drunk.

[she steps forward as he steps back, not letting him go.]

I've had worse than vomit on me.

[the problem is, this entire situation isn't crazy to her at all. unusual, perhaps, but it would be far more common in her world for something to actually be talking to rhys than for him to be hallucinating. that and his lying is awful. really, really bad. bad enough that whatever he's extremely poorly hiding must be very significant to him. or to the person he certainly isn't talking to, which leads to the obvious-if-one-is-a-groeneveldt-and-was-stalked-by-the-devil conclusion...

there's a moment of hesitation, and then she lets go.]

At least let me walk you to your room, if you're such a wretched drunk. We don't have to talk at all.

Edited 2015-03-30 03:43 (UTC)

I'm a fan of silence.

[She doesn't let him go at first, and Rhys doesn't try to fight against her. He knows a fraction of what's going on here, knows that she can very well make him do whatever she pleases if she puts her mind to it, so he goes along with the idea, even if it's just to feel like he has a say in things.

But then her fingers unclasp from his arm, which is good. Rhys rubs at it for a moment before righting himself and moving for the door. He's not- well, he is tipsy, but not quite to the extent that he's trying to pretend. He's also pretty sure that he's not nearly drunk enough to start hearing voices or seeing things, which makes Jack's whole deal-

'You know, it's the strangest thing, I'm still not hearing any sort of explanation coming out of your mouth. Do you want me to punch you in the throat? 'cause I will. Repeatedly, until you're choking on your own blood.']

I- uh. On second thought, we should talk. I'd love to keep talking. What were we talking about before?

[once she lets go, sophie steps out of his personal bubble, ignoring their mess left on the bar in favor of gesturing gently toward the door, inviting him to leave.]

Hmm...your moon base home, how utterly mad Pandora is, how terribly charming you are, and what an odd sort of creature I am. Any of those will do, there may have been others.

[the fact that she leaves out the most obvious topic of conversation may or may not be considered suspicious.]

Right, right.

[He moves for the door, a little more coordinated than he may have let on.]

Did I tell you about the boom-box bandit? He was a trip. Also an asshole, but I guess you've gotta hand it to the guy for ingenuity. [Rhys is almost talking sense again when his head goes static and loud with the sound of a frustrated yell. It takes up everything, it echoes in his ears and off the walls and he jumps, wrenching himself to the side, away from her, where he collides with the wall.

It flickers, dies, and his eyes cross for a moment in dizziness.]

...I really shouldn't drink foreign liquor. [He presses the organic hand to his temple, shaking his head.] D'you know that they used to put stuff in absinthe that would make you get high and drunk at the same time? Talk about green fairies.

[the sudden leap into the wall catches sophie by surprise enough that when she reaches out to catch his arm before he hits his head, she misses. this is actually a rather difficult thing to do, and could be considered impressive, not that she'll tell him so. instead, she winces as his eyes cross and he shakes his head, then offers him a hand to steady himself. if he's going to pretend that really weird things aren't happening, she'll play along.]

Wormwood, isn't it? Except if there really were any green faeries around they were probably just doing it to tease. Very pretty, but not the nicest little things. I have heard that there are some mushrooms that are much more effective at making one see things. Do they have those on Helios?

I think?

[He's not sure. At the same time, he's furtively glancing around, his shoulders drooping to a somewhat more relaxed pose once he finds- or doesn't find- what he's looking for.]

Faeries? Nope. Only in like, board games and stuff. Stuff for nerds.

[WHICH HE TOTALLY ISN'T, RHYS DEFINITELY DOES NOT HAVE A LEVEL 62 SIREN IN BUNKERS AND BADASSES.]

Ohh, wait. [He's starting to get it now.] That's like, the sort of place you live in? Dwarves and magic and talking trees and stuff?

[of course he doesn't. of course. and she's definitely not super pretty with a wicked cool outfit, either.]

Dwarves tend to keep prefer living underground, and I haven't personally spoken to any trees, but yes, something like that. My father and brother are sorcerers of some repute, my twin less so, another brother is a knight, I am as I am, that sort of thing. We don't have electricity, but my brother has a group of manifestations visible only to him who keep his household, my other brother used to have a unicorn, my father once tied down the Devil...people seem to consider these things fantastical around here, but they are just part of my home.

[hint hint invisible manifestations hint. but that's as close as she'll come to mentioning it, buried in the midst of a conversation. in any case, she seems a little amused that he's just figuring this out now.]

Okay, information overload there. Slow it down a little.

[He's chuckling though, shaking his head a bit.]

Right, I get it. You just waltzed out of a tabletop roleplaying game.

[that makes her purse her lips a little, raising an eyebrow.]

It's hardly a game. Or...I suppose it is to some, but not for me. Perhaps fewer things will be at stake now.

Tabletop roleplaying... strategy... activity...?

[In the same tone that one might use to call a doll an 'action figure'.]

[sophie thinks of the devil, of the crippling, horrific pointlessness of the world, of the cold iron of a spear through her body.

she smiles at rhys.]

Do I not seem real enough to you?

That's kind of an unfortunate question to be asking me.

[Considering that he's about to head to his room and have a half-drunk conversation with his boss that only he can see about how he's actually dead and so probably not be showing up in another galaxy.]

None of this seems real. And I'm the guy from the galaxy that has teleportation and monsters that shoot lasers from their eyes.

[sophie makes a little amused noise.]

That's all right. You'll get used to it. I am, and I'm from a place that has never even conceived of spaceships or buildings made from metal.

[she briefly pats his organic arm again, on his forearm just below the elbow; he looks like he could use a little reassurance. sophie isn't quite sure when she started being reassuring to anyone, but there's always a time to begin.]

That's the part that doesn't seem real to me.

[He shrugs.]

Sudden kidnapping, big bad space station-slash-ship, whatever, yeah no big deal. Multiple realities where people are still living thousands of years ago, except with magic and faeries and- hell, I don't know, hobbits- that doesn't make sense.

Why not? Reality is just a matter of perspective. You live in space but you cannot conceive of living in other worlds? I am at least as real as you are, so just go on from there.

[a thoughtful pause.]

Also, we don't have hobbits, or at least I don't think we do. Whatever those may be.

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