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13: Spam: Man got to live what he know.
[Open spam]
[Omar is a roamer. As long as he's not forced to stay in his cabin -- in his cell, comfortable as it may be -- he spends very little time there. He's just as likely to sleep in an empty cabin, or even once or twice in the Enclosure. He keeps bizarre hours, and he keeps them largely to himself.
None of this is new. This is how he's been since he got here the first time. Since his last death toll, though, he's become even more erratic in his efforts to stay unpredictable, and the recent spate of unwarranted brutality has him feeling especially restless. He can be chanced upon at all kinds of odd times and places: at the library early in the morning, in the showers and the laundry room around noon, eating in the dining hall in the late afternoon. In the evening, smoking up on the deck with so many of his fellow passengers, because it's not actually that he's antisocial -- just very, very careful.
Careful enough that he takes data, and so some of the newer passengers may or may not be surprised to glimpse him out of the corner of their eyes every now and again. Maybe even writing something down.]
[Spam for Cold and Dark]
[But there's a predictability even in unpredictability, and he does from time to time spend the night in his cabin, if only to keep up the illusion that he does so much more often. It might take a more careful observer a while to figure out when he's likely to return, but the time comes around eventually.
It's late in the evening, but he's been up for the last 36 hours, and he's tired -- and therefore both baffled and a little annoyed to hear a knock on the door right when he's about to lay his head down.]
Man, who is it?
[Edit: Voice to Ricki, post-Tiffany spam]
You know what? I remember a time this place didn't feel like a cross between a day care and a circus.
[Edit: Spam for Luna, post-pairings announcement]
[Omar's been playing the warden shuffle for a while now. At best, it's been ineffective -- the closest thing he's gotten to a decent temporary warden, in Horatio, got ripped away from him halfway through the month. At worst, it's been disastrous. So he's not inclined to pay much mind to the announcement, not anymore. He goes about his day. Let Luna Lovegood come to him, if she likes.]
[Omar is a roamer. As long as he's not forced to stay in his cabin -- in his cell, comfortable as it may be -- he spends very little time there. He's just as likely to sleep in an empty cabin, or even once or twice in the Enclosure. He keeps bizarre hours, and he keeps them largely to himself.
None of this is new. This is how he's been since he got here the first time. Since his last death toll, though, he's become even more erratic in his efforts to stay unpredictable, and the recent spate of unwarranted brutality has him feeling especially restless. He can be chanced upon at all kinds of odd times and places: at the library early in the morning, in the showers and the laundry room around noon, eating in the dining hall in the late afternoon. In the evening, smoking up on the deck with so many of his fellow passengers, because it's not actually that he's antisocial -- just very, very careful.
Careful enough that he takes data, and so some of the newer passengers may or may not be surprised to glimpse him out of the corner of their eyes every now and again. Maybe even writing something down.]
[Spam for Cold and Dark]
[But there's a predictability even in unpredictability, and he does from time to time spend the night in his cabin, if only to keep up the illusion that he does so much more often. It might take a more careful observer a while to figure out when he's likely to return, but the time comes around eventually.
It's late in the evening, but he's been up for the last 36 hours, and he's tired -- and therefore both baffled and a little annoyed to hear a knock on the door right when he's about to lay his head down.]
Man, who is it?
[Edit: Voice to Ricki, post-Tiffany spam]
You know what? I remember a time this place didn't feel like a cross between a day care and a circus.
[Edit: Spam for Luna, post-pairings announcement]
[Omar's been playing the warden shuffle for a while now. At best, it's been ineffective -- the closest thing he's gotten to a decent temporary warden, in Horatio, got ripped away from him halfway through the month. At worst, it's been disastrous. So he's not inclined to pay much mind to the announcement, not anymore. He goes about his day. Let Luna Lovegood come to him, if she likes.]
[ Spam ]
[This is another thing that Manticore taught him, with all its eyes and ears and cameras and every single hand and heart turned against him: the act is so seamless that it may as well be the truth. He always, always assumes someone is watching, and so while his behavior might begin to show itself as somewhat erratic, it is also without exception harmless. He's exploring, familiarizing himself with his surroundings, and he takes nothing, moves nothing, destroys nothing.
He turns a page of his magazine without looking at it, head tilted curiously to follow the path of the room's new occupant. The smile holds.]
You're in luck: you beat the rush.
[Yeah there is no one else in here.]
[ Spam ]
[And for someone that is more or less functionally, willfully homeless, he actually has a fairly extensive wardrobe. He hadn't come here specifically to stalk Alec this time; he actually needs a machine. He heaves the clothes -- mostly blacks, with some bright splashes of color mixed in -- into the nearest one and does the necessary fiddling with it.]
You the new boy, right?
[ Spam ]
Okay not actively right this moment; actively right this moment Alec is hiding out to read the network and pretending like he has something to do, and kind of curious to see who will come back to claim the load of laundry they were brave - or stupid - enough to leave unattended in the first place. But then he was going to go back to counter-stalking Omar.
He chuckles.]
I'm the new boy, but I prefer to go by Alec. And you're not-the-new-boy.
[ Spam ]
You the new boy that flooded up the third floor?
[ Spam ]
[This time when he laughs, there's a distinctly - but still mild - derisive edge to it.]
Unlike some of the people around here, I actually know how to operate indoor plumbing. Not guilty.
[ Spam ]
[He gets the machine started, then turns and hops up to sit on top of it. It's almost a little comical -- he's not a small man, but it would be all too easy for him to look like a kid, with his baggy jeans and his hat pushed to the side. Still, there's something about him that makes it look entirely self-assured. Maybe it's the scar; maybe it's just that the energy contained in him isn't the directionless, enthusiastic energy of a kid, but the coiled and ready energy of a lion at rest.]
Just saying -- I'm sure it made a fine distraction up there, too.
[ Spam ]
His smirk falls lopsided when he glances up to meet Omar's eyes again after following his movement up onto the machine.]
I wouldn't know anything about it. I'm usually distracting enough when I walk into a room, and even if I needed something more, I would make sure it was pretty important before I went and wrecked something that made it so other people couldn't wash up.
[He is pretty annoyed about this, especially with the head of maintenance also out for the count. He keeps that part to himself.]
[ Spam ]
You are, are you?
[ Spam ]
[And then sneak out the back if he needed to, but that's neither here nor there. He accepts the amusement gracefully enough, raises an eyebrow in return.]
You don't think so?
[ Spam ]
[ Spam ]