Friendship is Magic

Mr.Face:

"Essentially, your argument is that I am socially obligated to listen to you, simply because it would be helping you out, and that this is a matter that transcends the difference between work and whatever not work is." I stated, to make sure that I'd gotten this right.

...Let me be frank with you, random audience member. I have no intention of allowing Mr.Namechov to walk out of here unharmed. At all.

"...I'm opening the table to negotiation." I stated after a few terse moments.

"wahsthksd... ... ... really...?!" Mr. Namechov disobeyed me again. Incoherently.

"Stop talking or I'll rescind that last statement and sew your mouth shut. Internet knows that you'd be more concise that way." I replied sharply.

Cricket

I simply nodded at his restatement of whatever my statement had been and waited for the actual reaction. It was hard to tell by his face what he was actually thinking. For obvious reasons. I ended up accidentally staring at his razor teeth, which didn't help at all.

Waitpardon. He was actually going to negotiate? That was unexpected. A good sign, I hoped, but completely out of the blind side.

For his own sake, I hoped T.Mor could manage to stay quiet. At least for the time it took to get this all sorted out.

"A'right then . . . anything in mind?"

Mr.Face:

"I'm willing to keep acid out of the equation for this round." I stated succinctly. Really, in my book that was bending quite far enough.

Cricket

T.Mor remained silent, of course. Thankfully. But at the same time, I didn't want to sign away on this without getting a sign from him. I wondered if he was allowed to nod. I didn't know what the norm was. Perhaps not using acid wasn't all that different. But knowing Mr. Face . . . it very well might have been better. "I'm assuming since 'e's not allowed t' talk 'e won't be allowed t' give any thoughts on that at all?"

Mr.Face:

"He is the one being punished here isn't he? Why do you want his opinion on that anyway?" I asked immediately. ...I then recalled that this was some kind of negotiation, and that this was also somehow linked into the whole... friendship thing. "Nevermind. Don't answer that. You can ask him one question." I decided.

...This was taking much longer than anticipated. And for what...? Knife wounds. Ridiculous.

Cricket

"Does 'e always use acid?" I asked. " . . . Typically. Is what 'e suggested better enough t' make any difference?"

Mr.Face:

I really dislike listening to Mr.Namechov speak. ...He's not very good at it. And the entire thing is riddled with awkward pauses...and it's just hideously unpleasant. "...Cricket.. you don't even... ...It... I... I won't... have to scrub... the...the acid out..." There is honestly no reason that anyone down here should sound so... not in agony. It was just wrong.

"...May I remind you that that was a yes or no question, Mr.Namechov."

"... ...I...I mean... yes." He squeaked.

Cricket

There was the answer. It would help. Better than I'd thought, by the sound of his voice. I nodded and ran a hand through my hair. "A'right, that sounds . . . a'right. That sounds a'right, then."

Mr.Face:

"Alright then. Are you going to leave or do you want to stand here and play... friendship patrol...or, what?" It occurred to me that if he left the room, I still technically had a packet of acid on my person, and I could pretty effectively ensure that Mr.Namechov wouldn't say anything.

...But that would be lying.

...But it is also ridiculously tempting.

Cricket

Bah. I didn't trust him. "I'll be 'ere." With that I took a step or two back, leaned cooley against the wall, and made that gesture of 'I'm watching you' even though he couldn't read gestures well. Because it felt awesome.

Mr.Face:

...And suddenly I had an audience. Alright then. I pulled out the exacto knife as per usual, and made a point to chuck the packet of acid over in Cricket's direction. Yes. Just to make the point that I wouldn't be pulling one over on either of them. "Roll up your sleeves, Mr.Namechov." I demanded, and I listened as he complied.

I vaguely wondered when the last time he had been late was, because as I worked, I noticed that there were still messy scabs from... whenever that I was tearing across. Scabs weren't hard to notice...vastly different texture.

Mr.Namechov remained silent throughout the procedure as was usual by this point in people's careers here. Typically walking into it for the first time, they scream like they're down on Cellblock Five. After eight or more years... It's normally a strained silence.

Once both arms were a thoroughly bloody mess, I wiped my blade off and put it back into my coat pocket. "Mr.Namechov, if I find out that you have informed any of your co-workers about this moment... You will regret it. Do I make myself clear?" I asked, and waited for a response while he was sorting out his sleeves and the bleeding.

"... ...uhm... ...of course... ...er. ...Sir. " Came the ridiculously drawn out reply. REALLY. What was preventing him from just... answering the question? Just answer it and leave out the awkward pauses. It wasn't hard.

Cricket

Something slapped the wall next to me and fell to the floor. That was the acid, I assumed, to prove he wouldn't get any ideas. Or in the least not follow through with them. And then, except for Mr. Face's demands before and after, things were quiet. I didn't watch, really. A glance or two perhaps. Any pain that T.Mor might have felt was masked. The angry, wet red that blanketed his arms caught my eye, but only for a moment before I looked away. And that was that. It was over. Better than if I'd not tried at all, aye?

Oi my my ... That was new. Usually I made things worse. It wasn't gone, but it wasn't as bad.

Mr.Face:

I held the door open for both Mr.Namechov and Cricket, wondering idly what we would be doing now that this was all taken care of. We still had quite a bit of time to kill before the suit was ready. Several hours at least.

I led the way back up and out of the cellblocks. Which of course incited the recurring thought of: Aren't these extraordinarily bizarre extenuating circumstances where I'm allowing someone to walk up out of there alive? What is the world coming to?

I quickly dropped this thought. I could surely find other things to think about. ...Like... well, what exactly we ought to do next. I had no idea. "My Priso...Cricket. Firstly, one day, I'm going to get that right without using an awkward portmanteau. Secondly, what now?" I asked.

Cricket

It was a simply odd situation, leaving the cellblocks without having to worry too much about the thought of my own death. I hadn't been sure if I was actually allowed to say goodbye to T.Mor, either. It wouldn't be stepping over a line, I wouldn't think, but . . . perhaps? This whole seperation of work and not-work situation made things more complicated. I didn't work. How was I supposed to know where to seperate the two? I ended up waving my hand once before turning to follow Mr. Face once again. It was hard squeezing the words 'I'll see you round and explain everything I promise' into one wave, but I tried.

Things were then quiet once again, until we were out of the cellblocks. Once again, I'd been wondering the same thing. "I 'aven't a clue." The usual answer. "If this keeps up I'll be 'alf inclined t' try and make a list. Pick a number, random thing t' do number fifty eight, problem solved."

Mr.Face:

"I would actually be very pleased if you made a list. We could save it to one of the OS' hard drives and have it on reference whenever we'd like." I stated. I continued taking us back towards my office, in lieu of having anything more intriguing to occupy our time with. "And I am also curious as to what kind of things would be on this list... Especially to warrant fifty eight items at least." I added.

I felt something vaguely damp rub against my arm for a moment, and remembered that it was probably blood. I turned around and continued walking backwards down the hall to inquire as to the amount of damage done to my sleeves. "...Alright, you tell me. Do you think that this would bleach out...or do I just have to get a new shirt?"

Cricket

"I think I'd 'ave a small bit of trouble coming up with a list o' fifty eight when we already 'ave a small bit o' trouble coming up with one. And ah, bleach." I didn't even look, to be honest.

Mr.Face:

"Well... I suppouse we ought to simply start with the one, and work out from there." I suggested. "And thank you for the dry cleaning advice." I added.

The silence went on for a moment. "...Well... what do you enjoy doing?" I queried, uncertain as to how to proceed at all from this point.

Cricket

I opened my mouth to say something and then realised . . . " . . . Huh . . . that, friend, is a very good question, actually. I'm not quite sure. I do things and enjoy 'em but there's no list o' 'obbies or anything in particular such as that, so I suppose I simply take what life tends t' throw at me and go from there. Ah, let's see . . . simply 'ang out in th' box or dig through things in th' mindspace t' keep myself busy, most days. It's interesting t' explore things. Though I'm also talking t' th' guy who 'as nightmares about people rearranging 'is living room furniture, so I doubt you'd actually like t' go anywhere new, but ah . . . exploring in general, I suppose. I don't know."

Mr.Face:

"Why did I ever tell you that...? That's not something you just...say. Especially not in these hallways." I reprimanded him. And what kind of method of entertainment is exploring anyway? ...I already knew this whole place. And that was all the more I ever needed. I didn't need any more than that. This place.

...Though, I realised that he didn't know the building like I did. Likely, nobody did. ...That could easily kill a couple hours, actually. "I suppouse that if you felt like it I could take you on a tour of the building. That is about the extent of exploration that I do. Ever." I offered.

Cricket

I then realised a smug little smirk was on my face, and I let it just sit there. "You told me because we were both 'alf delusional after watching Silent 'ill, remember?"

A tour? . . . Well, I'd been wanting to do that myself anyhow. It was a big place. There had to be some interesting places here. Even if I probably wanted to avoid quite a few of them, perhaps. But then, I'd never expected a piano and tailoring room to be in the government building, let alone a living room. It was an odd moment, the 'waitpardonwhat you actually have rooms not dedicated to killing' moment of realisation. A bit of a different angle. A double-take, spit out your coffee and laugh in confusion type of moment. "No exploration, aye? We'll 'ave t' work on that," I mimicked his words to me about . . . well, just about anything we dissagreed on. Killing, suits, and credit cards. "But a tour's a good place t' start."

Mr.Face:

"I still maintain that building myself a gigantic barbed wire tentacle monster...while it would be amusing, would cost way too much." I replied with regards to the Silent Hill comment. "Also, that film contained too many spontaneous baby ads." I added. That had been an amusing evening actually... filled with gore and fire and... ugh, chasms and the sky...

"And I demand to know what you mean by "work on that". I'm not going outside. I don't care what exponential quantity of friendship that would win me. I'm not going to." I stated.

...So, a tour. What constructed a tour? ...I guess I would just go through and walk him around the whole place and explain things as we went...? Was that a logical way to approach this? "...Anywhere you'd like to see first?" I asked.

Cricket

"Thanks for th' update on th' gigantic barbed wire tentacle monster, mate. I feel so in th' loop. And aye. Love on a spoon. And by 'work on that' I mean that I ought t' 'ave a right t' say " 'ey mate, I'm not going t' force you anywhere, but honestly, it shouldn't be too 'ard" since you're always telling me t' work on things that aren't too 'ard for you. I don't know honestly, t' make some sort of spur-o'-th'-moment point or th' like. And you're th' one giving th' tour, so on that note, lead th' way. I don't know where anything is t' see at this point."

Mr.Face:

"Yes, but the things that aren't too hard for me typically involve me spending money on you. Which is in NO WAY the same as you suggesting: Oh, perhaps we ought to go walking around the streets of Auda where you'd likely have several attempts on your head just for the most recent alterations to the tax laws...Which, by the way, went into place six years ago. And additionally... there is the whole... you know, sky issue" I explained as we walked down the hall. I suppoused that we could theoretically start here, get to some of the downstairs halls by way of service staircase, hit a few of the more... unusual departments, and then finish up on the third floor, before going up to the dome. I quite liked the dome. ...Oh. And there was the lab... Didn't know what all I would show him there... he'd kind of seen it already.

"Well, along this hallway, Since I suppouse we're simply going to start... wherever... are the uniform closets. You'll notice that there are plaques on each door with a picture of each article of clothing...And that is where each article of clothing is housed. One gets two uniforms complementary a year, and if they find that they are in need of additional uniforms, that comes at an additional charge that can be waived for thirty five hours of over time." I informed him. "...And this is a rather odd thing to allow in my case, but I believe that it would be apt at this juncture to inform you that any questions you may have can be asked at any time throughout the tour, and I will answer them to the extent that I can legally while not in the privacy of my office."

Cricket

"I think I've seen those before, actually," I thought out loud, and then left it at that. . . . Aye. "And as for th' Auda thing, it doesn't necessarily 'ave t' be Auda. I'd take you t' Luna except for th' fact that if you don't like sudden drops or sky or architecture tilting and distorting and crumbling with age and wear or people trying t' kill you for looking different or such, it's not quite th' place for you."

Mr.Face:

"You have? ...Really? When was this?" I asked, unaware of a time period in which it would have made sense that he be anywhere near these rooms. Typically all instances of murder remained IN the Cellblocks. So...hearing this was odd to say the least.

I had heard several times now about Luna, and well... technically I'd seen it once sort of, though through the distortion of eyes of all things... Which while... utterly horrifying...hadn't appeared... all... that... Alright water was orange and blue and it wasn't suppoused to be. That was just wrong. "I think that I would find Luna interesting in moderation. ...We could technically work on politics and whatnot there. ...I suppouse." I stated as we walked up another hall and down a few stairs. Not an actual flight change, just... two steps downward. "This is actually the terrorism and Inter-Procrasti Disagreement Bureau." I stated, pointing out a door. "We can go in there... if you want...there's not actually much. They often work in conjunction with the people who run the central YouTube channels to block illegal content involving... things that never happened." I explained, coming to a halt outside the door.