10: Video/Spam: Man, ain't no closure.

[omar]

[Video]

[It's hard, if not impossible, to tell where Omar is broadcasting from: the only thing in sight is the wall behind him, plain and unadorned and identical to those lining the halls. If anyone happens to be on level seven, they will in fact see him sitting comfortably against the wall nearest the stern common room.]

I been told that I took a wrong turn 'bout two year ago and wound up in that port back there instead of where I meant to be, so I figured a reintroduction might be in order. I'll keep it simple this time -- nothing fancy:

I'm Omar Little. Some of you know me, some of you don't...

[He grins.]

Most of y'all will soon enough.

[Open Spam]

[One of the things that most bothers Omar about the change is finding out how completely the neighborhood, so to speak, has changed. He can live with losing most of his friends and allies, but he really doesn't like not knowing who's taken their place.

The upshot is that pretty much as soon as the port ends he can be found roaming the halls at all hours, just about everywhere he has access to or can get into. He seems casual about it, just out for a stroll here or a late-night snack there, but the particularly observant might note that he's being particularly observant. Every so often, he even takes out a little scratchpad and writes down a note, especially when he sees someone enter or leave a cabin.]

[Spam for Loki]

[And there is one person that he's particularly interested in catching. He didn't want to talk on the phone -- he never wants to talk on the phone -- but he slides into step with him out of nowhere one afternoon, voice low.]

You may not know me, but I surely do know you, Trickster.

Comments

[spam]

[omar]

Uh-huh.

[Omar doesn't flap easily. One might even call him fairly unflappable. He tucks the notepad away in his inner jacket pocket and flashes the new inmate a bland smile.]

Y'all know which way to the cafeteria? I could use a bowl of Honey Nut.

[rickitikitarr]

[There's a split second where Ricki considers this. But there's something about that smile that settles him down, if only ever so slightly.]

's where I'm headed, come on.

[A jerk of his head in that direction.]

I'm being honest, I could use the company.

[And anyways, he wants a look at that notepad.]

[omar]

[That wasn't in Omar's immediate plans, but given that his immediate plans were more information-gathering, he shrugs and goes along with it.]

A'ight. Appreciate it, man. I'm Omar.

[rickitikitarr]

All right, Omar. I'm Ricki. I'll be honest that I have absolutely no idea what a bowl of Honey Nut is.

[He delivers this all with grim good humour. But, onwards and upwards.]

[omar]

Honey Nut Cheerios? You never had 'em? My warden used to get 'em in special for me -- figured I'd try and win a box or two from the ones up in the kitchen.

[rickitikitarr]

Cheerios, yeah, but I've never head of 'em in flavours. [A twitch of suspicion and a reluctant smile.] Know when they were invented?

[omar]

Couldn't say off the top of my head, naw... some time when I was a boy, I think. I remember being real charmed by 'em. Maybe 'round '78 or so.

You from before that or well after?

[rickitikitarr]

A couple of years after my time. I'll have to try them, if they're from the future.

Now, I take it there's no register of inhabitants publicly posted anywhere?

[omar]

Not to my knowledge, no. Why you ask?

[rickitikitarr]

Just trying to get myself oriented. You know. Adjusting to the way things work in this place.

[omar]

Naturally.

[From one fellow orienter to another. He smirks slightly.]

Way I see it, though, you either will or you won't.

[rickitikitarr]

Suppose that's true.

[A little smirk of his own.]

Just a glance? What could it hurt?

[Cigarettes, he can't work out here- some people seem to have them and some people don't, but remembering his old prison days he thumbs the one in his breast pocket out, a hint of an offer of trade in case Omar is one of the ones as luckless as he, and is without.]

[omar]

[To be fair, Omar sees the cigarette and he cannot deny that it is deeply tempting: with his old warden gone, he doesn't have a hook-up yet, and he's definitely been nursing a nicotine craving for the last few days.

But not enough to spill his secrets.]

Glance at what?

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki makes a good natured sound of defeat. He's brand new, has zero chips, no real cards in his hand. An easy and predictable result for a long shot. He should invent an answer but decides not to bother. The cigarette is tucked neatly back away, without rancour.]

What indeed.

Is it against the rules to ask how long you've been here?

[omar]

Naw, but it depend on how you count. The answer is either a few months or a few days.

[He pauses, wrinkling his nose as he realizes:]

Maybe even years.

[This one he doesn't mean to be a mystery, and he follows up before Ricki has to ask.]

I was here for the first time a couple years back. Did a spell of four or five months or so. Then I went to sleep one night and woke up here around last week.

[rickitikitarr]

Christ.

[He says, appreciatively, because that's got to be a little jarring.]

Anyone got an explanation for why that sort of thing happens?

[omar]

None that's made any kind of sense the way you'd want it to.

[rickitikitarr]

That's what I was afraid of.

[This place. He's been here a day and change and his jaw is already sore from gritting his back teeth.]

[omar]

Like I said, bro: you make it or you don't. Ain't no halfway in a place like this.