~Character Chat~

"What."She was stunned. "How...Why...TAKE ME TO IT." She finally figured out a sentence. "Although how you manage to keep it in your house is a mystery to me..."

((As you all may have noticed, their access to the internet is VASTLY different to our access to the internet. Riddle has NO IDEA that most people use the internet through their computers- And indeed, computers where she lives are all toeing the line on 'obselete' because, well It's hard to get the internet to come back with what you actually wanted, especially when you don't know the parameters if your search request. For example, before he ended up with Riddle, Mr.Face would recieve little slips of paper on his porch saying '404 file not found' because his parameters were all...indistinct. While we all have the internet at our mercy...They've essentially got it the other way around.
Yeah. End internet rant...))

"What did I do?!" Andrew asked Izzy, he didn't understand what she ment.

"I can't take you upstairs tot he computer but I've got internet on my phone." Ezra suggested.

"PDA stands for 'public displays of affection,'" Izzy told Andrew, her eyes narrowed.
"You see, Riddle," Peter started, "people can access the internet through computers and certain phones, provided that said computers and phones can connect. Computers can connect through LAN lines or wi-fi, while phones just connect through wi-fi. You can get wi-fi signals set up in your house, you can go to a place that has a wi-fi signal, or you can pay to get access to one that's being broadcasted over a wide area."
That was basically it. Peter didn't really want to have to explain further, not to mention that he didn't know exactly how much Riddle knew about it anyway.

"Oh...so what's with the yelling?"

"I don't want to see it!" Izzy told him. "Kiss your girlfriend on your own time! There's a saying, you know: Get a room."

"It's not official..." Andrew mumbled just loud enough for Liz to hear. She frowned at his comment.

"Clearly it's not official!" Izzy retorted. "You're dead, and she's not. I mean, does that make her a necrophile? You need to get over her, boy, and face some facts. She's going to get older, and you aren't. Seriously, it's like that horrible Twilight book! Years from now, she'll die--what? We all will!--and unless you've moved on by then, you'll be sticking around."

"She is not necrophile." Andrew said angrily. "And you don't think she's told me that?! You don't think I've thought about it?!"

"Well duh I think she's told you that, and that you've thought about it!" Izzy answered. "I'm not stupid! You know what the problem is? You haven't done it. There is no action here. Thinking and sitting on your ghostly little ass will get you nowhere. You need to stop thinking and start doing."

"She has been doing! She's tried nonstop! She got my grave moved! Do you know how hard it is to do that?! I told her I wasn't leaving," said Andrew.

"I'm not talking about what she's doing!" I snapped, raising my voice. "I'm talking about what you're doing! Listen, kid, no one can make your decisions for you. She can't get over herself for you. She can't move on for you. These are things you have to do for yourself! And you'll only be hurting yourself the longer you stay. You two are both sixteen, right? What happens when she turns seventeen? Eighteen? That's satutory rape right there. What of when she's twenty-one? A twenty-one-year-old and a sixteen-year-old together? Icky! And what happens when she's eighty? Unless you wanna be getting your cougar on in the very near future, you need to move. On."

"I'm sixteen...she's fifteen. It's not like I have say in the matter!"

"Isn't he the one commiting satutory rape?" asked Ezra, hearing the conversation.

"I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO HER!" bellowed Andrew.

"So she's fifteen," Izzy said, annoyed. "It doesn't matter. Next year she'll be sixteen. The year after that, she'll be seventeen. Because, you know, that's how time works. Yes, she'll be catching up to you for all those years in a technical sense, but not in a physical one. Technically, Aang is ninety-eight years older than Katara, but we still think of Katara as being two years older than he is! You know why? Because for one-hundred years, he didn't age. He's one-hundred-twelve at the start of the series, but he's effectively twelve. You're one-hundred-fifteen, but you're effectively sixteen. And as the age gap between you two technically closes, it's effectively rising."

Andrew cringed at her words, they cut through him like a knife.

"Ever think she likes me because I'm alive?" laughed Ezra cruely.

"Hey," Izzy said, wheeling on Ezra, "there's no need for you to be an asshole."

"He was born one," said Andrew.

Riddle was on a quest for whatever a phone was. She wasn't quite sure. But Ezra had metioned the internet being there, and she DESPERATELY needed it. "Look. I realise we are all talking about Andrew's inability to stop WHINING...And I really appreciate that. I do. Keep at it, maybe if we all yell loud enough it will resonate with enough force to wake up ceiling cat to bring him to the nether, where he will be mining next to some LAVA for...some time...BUT I NEED THE INTERNET. Bring me that phone whatsit doosit." Riddle looked somewhat frazzled.

"Basement Cat shall reign supreme!" Izzy declared. "Kidding, of course. And, uh, I don't actually have my phone with me."

"I do," Ezra smirked, handing the phone over to Riddle.

"Why can't you two ever get along? You two are family," Liz sighed.

Riddle looked down at the tiny appliance in confusion. "WAIT...This is phone?" Riddle asked in confusion.
"Yes. That's a phone..."August said as though she was an idiot.
"How does... the internet hide in it?" She asked, looking at it skeptically. August statched it from her fingers with a sigh. He expertly tapped his way to the internet.
"There. There's a key pad. You use it to type...Have fun." He explained briefly.
Riddle stared at the screen. She tapped experimentally. "what...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO IT??" She asked in horror, staring at a Google search bar.
"Riddle calm down. I'm sure it's not that bad..." T.Mor leaned over her shoulder to watch the screen curiously. "Look...here...try...."He took the phone from her and set it on top of the Xbox. "Try that. It's not that different..." He said, not entirely convinced of it himself.
Riddle navigated in game to the nearest load screen. The lag was just as bad as last time. "I CALL HAXX. THAT IS NOT THE INTERNET." Riddle said conclusively.

"Must be different then yours at home," Ezra mused.

"Why would I want to get along with that idoit?!" exclaimed Andrew.

"Riddle," Izzy said, "the internet can't give you stuff here. You can get stuff through the internet, but it comes from other people that give it to you. There's not easy way to say this, but...the internet isn't sentient here."

Riddle stared blankly at Izzy for a moment. She smiled a pained, somewhat disturbing broken grin."No...No no no nononono...."She simply couldn't believe that, she had begin typing away frantically on the phone. "01100100 01100101 01100011 01110010 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101100 01100001 01100111 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00101..."Riddle rattled off as she typed away. She watched the screen anxiously, and after a moment chucked it despondently at the floor. She actually appeared upset for once.

"01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01110010 01110010 01111001 00101100 00100000 01010010 01101001 01100100 01100100 01101100 01100101," Izzy told her gently.

((AWWW. That was adorable. nearly heartwrenching. Thank you for making my homework laden night.))

Riddle barely acknowleged the apology, having sunken into quite a funk. She had not realised how dependent upon it she had been until just now, how much it would be an issue for her, not to have it. It seemed to her that the internet here was practically being held captive...
"Riddle...it's not...the whole universe isn't like us. You...you know that." T.Mor said, barely concealing his own somewhat horrified expression."It's not...it's not that bad."Although he seemed to need some convincing himself. He sat down next to her, and followed her gaze to the phone, which was displaying a myriad of only semi-related search results.