Friendship is Magic

Cricket

"Aye, and I don't know, either," I replied. Until midnight. What time was it now? We had several hours, aye?

Mr.Face:

"Well. Alright then. I suppouse we can discuss it in my office." I replied, and with that, started towards my office. This was going alright. We would go to my office, and discuss our possibilities from there...like rational civilised people.

...Except that I was ringing.

Expletives.

I stopped dead where I was to answer the call. It had better be something important for the OS to send me a notifier when she knew I was out doing something, and technically off for the evening. "Excuse me... This... This had better be something good." I stated, knowing that it was rude to just...stop mid visit to answer a business call.

"...Sir... You have a tardy employee on Cellblock three. They were fifteen minutes late, by the shift manager's estimation." She informed me, as I held the phone to my ear.

...Greaaaaat. That was convenient. "...Fine. Inform whoever it is that I am not content. In the slightest." I stated, and then put the phone away. "...Sorry about that. Idiots don't know how to read a time table. ...I kind of have to go deal with that...unfortunately." I informed him, the irritation in my voice not directed at him.

Cricket

I almost ran into him when he stopped dead, and took a couple steps back to make up for it. Oh bother, business calls? Yet another reminder of who I was making friends with here. "I'll stay 'ere, per'aps?"

Mr.Face:

"...Oh yes. I'll just leave you in the middle of a featureless hall and remember where I left you. And you will just stand here completely still for the duration of my voyage down there, and won't make it inconvenient to find you in the slightest." I replied, heavy with sarcasm. "And it's only three... Nothing terribly... horrible happens there, really." I added. Three was the first block that really outright did execution, though was notoriously short on the drawn out torture bit. As such... I didn't really consider it a block that could be terribly scarring.

"Mostly, I just don't want the inconvenience of relocating you. We're essentially in the middle of nowhere, at the moment." I added, after a moment.

Cricket

It's not as if I would run off completely to snoop. Much. I honestly had to wonder what all these rooms held. But I wouldn't move far, and if I could help it I'd be back by the time he was. That and the fact that the idea of walking the cellblocks on the opposite side of the game with the boss of that opposing side made me cringe in my thoughts. "What is this, take your protagonistic-victimenemy-turned-frenemacquantance-by-contract t' work day? T' be frank, I'm not going with you."

Mr.Face:

"...Firstly, Oh dear Internet who taught you the art of portmanteau, and can I please have them terminated? Secondly, I refuse to leave you here. Or go twenty minutes out of my way to drop you somewhere else. I'm not willing to waste that much time on this whole ordeal. It shouldn't even take that long. And it's not as though I'm committing murder. Honestly. I don't understand what the problem is." I snapped back at him. It wasn't really a threatening type of tone of voice... just a demonstration of exasperation.

Cricket

"First all, if you mean th' art of mashing words t'gether then that would be me. So in short, no. Second all, I'd still much rather simply stay 'ere and per'aps I'll even quite literally stay right 'ere in this very spot until you come back like some good little child. Third all, I'm not going with you t' walk through t' cellblocks on th' mask-and-gun side of th' prison game, murder or not. It wouldn't quite be right."

Mr.Face:

"Fine. I won't kill you for your abominations against the English language. And secondly, don't friends do things they don't necessarily like for the sake of... that whole... thing? Like, isn't that whole dichotomy built on people doing things the other enjoys or...some other nonsense like that? ...You made me look at the sky. I think I can make you go downstairs and deal with this for a few minutes." I responded irritatedly. I wasn't just going to LEAVE him in some hallway. It was ridiculous. Wouldn't let it happen.

Cricket

"What then, do you need my moral support in this time of need? And it's only th' sky, mate!" He did have a bit of a point, though. . . . It would only be a few minutes. A few moments. Then it would be over and I could forget the whole thing.

I think I facepalmed. ". . . Bah. A'right. Fine. I'll go."

Mr.Face:

...Moral support? Pfft. I allowed a slight grin to cut across my face. "Morals. You're funny. Next you're going to be asking me about ethical conduct or something like that." I commented. "...And it's not just the sky. It's--- No. You know what, I've explained that one too many times. Just... Come on." I demanded, and started off towards the cellblocks from wherever we were.

As I started off in that direction, I double checked to make sure I was actually armed... because it would be exceptionally inconvenient to get down there and then realise that I didn't have any knives on me. I found several in my interior coat pocket, along with a little packet of spare blades, and a packet of acid. Good.

Cricket

"Aye, aye, I know, th' big blankness is scary. I forgot about that for a moment." I simply stood there and lagged behind as I said it. Was I honestly about to do this? Just a few moments of trying not to think and it would be over. It wasn't so bad. Quit being a pansy. Toughen up. It was someone else, not me. A stranger. It would have happened had I been in this deal or not, so it wasn't my problem. Pft. There was no betrayal here, what was I thinking? . . . Aye? No betrayal.

I finally ran a hand through my hair and wandered after him.

Mr.Face:

We continued onward to the cellblocks. I held the door open for him once we reached it. The door to the cellblocks was notably metal, which made it easy to identify and very nice to hear slam behind you. I'm sure that nice is a relative word, but...to me it was nice. "It may be a foreign concept to you but we're stopping at three." I reminded him.

Cricket

"You've said so a'ready, 'aven't you?" I replied, even though my mind was halfway on autopilot to Five, and stepped through the doorway with my gaze down. Oi my my, take a step back, self . . . it wouldn't be that bad. It wasn't Five. It wasn't an execution. It was only a sliver away from halfway to the worst.

Mr.Face:

"Well, I didn't want to have to go and sort out that whole mess if you ended up wandering around down there by yourself. That... That just... Actually that's kind of hilarious. Perhaps I shouldn't have reminded you and we could have played the game of: Hmm... If I yell loudly enough will they all stop screaming so I can go find you? It would have been amusing." I ranted in amusement while walking to the back of the block, to talk to the current manager of the floor. "Where's the idiot who can't read time...?" I demanded, putting both hands on his desk and leaning down into it slightly, just to get that imposing look. ...Not that I wasn't imposing either way, I'm sure, but this confirmed it.

"...oh... erm... four. Sir." He replied. "...And... do.. do you want us to take care of--"

"What are you talking about?" I cut the guard off.

"...the kid... uhm, behind you...is... is he...?" Oh. He was thinking that Cricket was in trouble for some reason. ...Funny.

"No, actually. He's with me. You insinuate that he's some kind of petty criminal again and I will personally make sure that your employment here is terminated. Thank you for the pertinent information though." I smiled at the guard and turned back toward the entirety of the block. Four was actually right near the way we'd just walked in. Fantastic. I took a moment to notice that there weren't any bodies lining the hall either, which was actually quite a pleasant surprise. I'd have to tell the Crematorium that they were doing something right for once.

Cricket

"Ha. Ha." After that mutter of a sarcastic response, I stayed quiet to let him talk to the guy at the desk. Or threaten him about assuming I was in some sort of trouble. I didn't quite blame the guy for thinking such, because, obviously, I doubted Mr. Face dragged too many kids around the blocks for the sake of fun and companionship, and besides that I probably looked like a kid in trouble. I could feel it on my face like some stubborn stain. Granted, I kept most of my face hidden. Only stolen looks. A stolen glance over my shoulder at the guy at the desk before following Mr. Face, as if I owed him some sort of explanation. Ah well.

Mr.Face:

I ran a hand along the even side of the wall once we got close for the numbered plaque outside the door. I'd had door numbers installed ages ago so I could tell where everything was. The plaque contained both the number in braille, and the number in English raised lettering.

There it was. Lovely. "Do you just want to wait out here, so as to not provoke your... discomfort or whatever?" I queried just prior to opening the door.

Cricket

And if anybody wondered why there was a random kid without a plastic mask standing outside a cell door, I could tell them I was with Mr. Face. And I had to admit, as ridiculous as that sounded even to me it also sounded a bit awesome. I may as well have had the right to say that I was with . . . I don't know. Some famous pop culture guy I shouldn't even know about in canon. Sure, this wasn't quite a fun situation. But at least I was in a bad situation with the right to say something awesome.

"Sounds a'right, I suppose."

Mr.Face:

"Wonderful. This should take six minutes. Perhaps twelve if I'm feeling talkative. I haven't really decided yet. Be back shortly." I stated, and then pulled open the door.

I was actually halfway inside the room when the fantastically late occupant decided to say something. ...You know, because I didn't have anywhere to be. "... ...Cricket? ... ...What...what're--"

...Well, expletives. "Stop talking to him, he's not your problem at the moment. I'm your problem at the moment, and I'd say that I could easily become more than a problem, Mr.Namechov.

...Unsurprisingly, Mr.Namechov obeyed instantaneously.

Cricket

I knew that voice.

Mr. Namechov.

T.Mor. Oh bother. I couldn't just stand there after all.

Oh bother.

"Wait a moment Mr. Face! I 'ave a quick comment regarding th' ''e's not your problem at th' moment' comment in which I'd like t' state that there seems t' be a problem with this whole lateness problem pardon th' repetition, ah, but see." That came out a bit more jumbled that I'd hoped. I clenched and unclenched my fists and walked into the room, finding a mask where T.Mor's face was supposed to be. "Can I say something?"

Mr.Face:

... ...What. What was going on. There was not a problem with the lateness. Well, there was, in that he was late. But outside of that, there was no problem. I closed the door behind us all, since this quickly seemed to be digressing from the routine. "Certainly you can, however the question I think you're really asking is whether or not I'm going to give you permission." I stated.

"Cricket... ...how...what's even... uhm...--"

"I THOUGHT that I had just told you to stop TALKING, Mr.Namechov. Not ONLY is it nigh ridiculous to stand there and listen to you spend five minutes labouring over one sentence... You're also OUTRIGHT DISOBEYING ME." I informed him, in a position where I was inches away from his plastic face.

"... ...ye--uhm...sorry... um..." he shut himself up that time and just nodded. Much better. I straightened myself back up to my usual height.

I reminded myself that his name was Cricket before speaking again, just so that I wouldn't screw this up. "You Cricket, can speak, since you haven't done anything to lose favour with me yet." I stated, blatantly playing favourites.

Cricket

This was not good. I should have told him sooner. Damnit, why didn't I tell anyone sooner? I hadn't heard Mr. Face shout in a long while. The last person I wanted it to be directed at was T.Mor. Or Marley. Or anyone else. I wanted to help, not get anyone hurt. So far, simply wanting it was spiraling into failure. Damnit, the amount of favoritism in the air was enough to choke me. It screamed betrayal.

" . . . I, ah . . ." I had to explain somehow, but it wasn't the place and time. Time for a quick mutter of a sentence that probably wouldn't help at all. ". . . If this doesn't get explained in th' meantime I'll explain it all later." Back to talking to Mr. Face. "You remember that quick talk we 'ad about friends not 'urting friends or friends of friends?"

Mr.Face:

...He was going to try to get this friendship thing to interfere with my occupation, wasn't he. I turned to put him in my perceived sightline. "Yes. Yes I do. My current argument is that I haven't laid a hand on him. Yet. My follow up to that is: What do you expect me to do, quit my job?!" I asked.

Mr.Namechov continued to stand there silently as I had demanded. Which was nice. Especially considering that Cricket had just spoken to him directly.

Cricket

"Now Mr. Face, I'm sure 'e didn't mean t' be late at all. And I'm sure 'e's sorry. And I'm sure if you 'appen t', say, let this one slide per'aps it'll be kept very particularily quiet as t' not disrupt whatever order and on-time-ity you've got in th' other employees due t' threats about arms and acid and th' like?" I suggested, shrinking under his false stare.

Mr.Face:

"In my world, there is a distinct separation of work and...things that are not work. You currently fit under the latter category, and Mr.Namechov currently fits under the former. There is no space for interplay." I stated. I was mildly offended that he was under the impression that I would allow an employee to walk away from their punishments that easily. "Furthermore, How on Erf can you claim to know what he means by anything? And, if I just follow through as planned, then I won't have to worry about anyone speaking then either." I continued.

Mr. Namechov...I don't know what he did. Stood there like the idiot that he was, presumably. He may have been shaking slightly. ...Though I couldn't say for certain if that was my fault or just him being himself.

Cricket

" 'ow can you claim t' know that I don't know what 'e means by anything? I'm 'is friend!" I supposed this ought to be the part where I start 'explaining in the menatime'. Accidentally and through the intimidating guy in the suit. "I know a million times more about 'im than you do because I'm 'is friend. That's what I'm 'ere for, is t' teach you about friendship. It's my side o' th' deal. You want t' know, 'ere's a lesson. 'e's my friend, and I'm not about t' simply stand around while bad things 'appen because friends 'elp each other, remember that tidbit? Forget about 'im for a moment, and remember me. You can 'elp me by 'elping 'im, a'right? It's a small favor t' ask, Mr. Face, only one small exception. Please."