I have information to share with you all, about information that we lack.

[a pause.]

( LOTS OF TALKING )

[ it had been a just one night since oz's departure and alice had more or less kept quiet. after spending a night searching fruitlessly, she spent the rest of the dark hours sulking with (1) gilbert nightray until they eventually fall asleep, buried in the sheets like sad children who have lost the dearest thing they held at night.

in the morning alice wakes up and her first instinct is to cry, but the second is something more violent... and of course she goes with that instead.

THERE'S A LOUD BANG. something appears to have fallen and shattered, although it's hard to say when things are happening off-screen. and before anyone can attempt to understand what just happened, they get an earful from one angry looking young girl shouting into the tablet. she never did care for this thing, but at least she knows now that someone will be able to hear her. ]

THEY TOOK OZ AWAY! I WON'T FORGIVE THEM. [ her head's clear but it's hard to stop yelling when you're so upset. if someone could hear her, feel threatened by her,

help her

then she might actually have time to think and calm down. ] How dare they take him away without my permission? Don't they know its the master's job to take care of their servant? How am I suppose to do that when he's not here? Huh? SOMEONE GIVE HIM BACK! NOW! I'm waiting!

[ don't be fooled by her tough exterior, she's gonna burst into tears any minute now.

oh. there you go. the tears roll down. ]

This is all your fault, idiot! [ blames the ne..twork... ] Bring him back... useless! Useless....

[If Allen Walker's going to be honest with himself, he needs help. Pretty badly. And the truth is that he's come no closer to finding it in this place than he has in his world, and the clock is still ticking.

But what he's also come to realize is that what he has here is access to something unlike anything he has at home, which he's been stupidly neglecting. That is, a network of hundreds of people from a multitude of backgrounds and specialties and worlds, right at his fingertips. One of them might even know something that could, indeed, help him. He can't justify squandering this resource.

Especially not when he doesn't even need to come out publicly about his... problem. He has nothing to lose by trying, and perhaps a great deal to gain.

So, after making triple-sure this is going to post anonymously, he writes,]

hello,

i would like to speak with anyone here who has knowledge of demons, or similar beings from their world.

[For lack of a better descriptor.]

especially those familiar with methods of exorcism, or the containment of them.

[He considers adding more, but perhaps the vaguer, the better in this case. It'll have to do.

He resists the powerful urge to close with a 'thank you.']

[Sonya appears on the screen without her usual preambles or cheerful introductions. Her manner is very, very controlled. The casual Bronx vowels that occasionally creep into her speech are gone. The profanities are gone. Every once in a while, she glances down; this is a prepared statement.]

Earlier today, Jesse Pinkman snuck into one of the prisoner cells under false pretenses. He’d been friends with one of the mutineers before all of this happened, so he claimed to merely want to visit.

While he was in there, he mutilated this prisoner in spirit and soul. He ripped from her her ability, her inborn gift, to cast spells. He tore away from her something as vital to her as eyesight or touch might be for you. And did he did this to defend someone? To stop an attack or a threatened attack? No: he did it to punish her. To make her suffer. And then he said to her that this is how things are running now.

( fuzzy drama funny drama drama drama fuuuck (ps not an ic cut) )

( When she speaks, Collette aims to sound warm. She's tired, keyed up, and confused as well as trying to understand what's gone on since the mutiny began, and what's continuing in the aftermath. She brings a question she'd talked to Ros about, in her own way; something she wants to know very simply because she doesn't, and it's all the more important now.

Out of respect for that same woman, she keep's Ros's name out of this. )

When it comes down to do or die, who do you trust here to make decisions to pull people through, and not leave people stranded high and dry, or freeze up and fall into inaction? People who keep their temper in heated circumstances. Ones who maybe aren't going to forget the bigger picture, even if that doesn't make it easy on the smaller scale.

I've got a few names myself! Blue, Kate Kane, Nathan Summers, Caesar Silverberg, Lenalee Lee, Xerxes Break, Gilbert Nightray, Jaime Reyes, Ashraf, Kang, Peter Quill, Donny, Armin Arlert, Chrono and Rosette, even Dick Grayson and Ahiru and Vanadi, of all people, would stand by you figuring things out.

Those are some of mine. What're yours?

( I'm going to keep talking, though, so you might want to tune out if you don't want to hear me ramble about a few maybe important, maybe not things! )

[ she begins without preamble, speaking clearly and surely. ]

I have things to trade in the cafeteria. There's hams and cheeses, doughnuts, and juices. Socks too, and wet wipes, toys and jewelry. I've got books too for those who want them and markers in lots of colors. There's a lot more too. I'll be here all day or until it's all gone.

[ she took over a section of the cafeteria for her use. her direwolf lies beside her, guarding both her and the cart.

her wheeled cart ( commandeered from the clinic ) is full of items: the top has a tray of finger food from the promised cold hams and cheeses to oysters and shrimp packed in ice with sauces alongside, even cooked mini pizzas. below are assorted vending machine goods in their wrappers, sacks of ground coffee and hot chocolate, and a dozen fresh doughnuts. she has a pitcher of lemonade and a half-gallon of fruit punch.

in the drawers are assorted items such as wipes, hand sanitizers, socks and scarves, toys including a stuffed bear that moves and talks when you press its stomach, a few books and papers and markers.

hidden inside a bag at the girl's feet are a few cartons of cigarettes and small bottles of whiskey and wine for those who can pay a little extra. ]

( PRIVATE to LILY )

( PRIVATE to ELLIE & DICK )

[ Her voice, while somewhat tired, is leveled as she speaks. ]

For the time being, the clinic should be stocked with some personal hygienic products anyone might have been wondering about. There's shampoos, soaps, sanitary napkins, and pads and tampons for the ladies. There's also patches for smokers. Anything else you're looking for, like medicine or bandages, you'll have to check with someone at the clinic.

Anyway, I asked the AI the decrypt a couple of drives belonging to the UE. There were various analytical notes specializing in robotics, specifically robotic spacecraft — rovers. For those unfamiliar: a rover is a vehicle used in space explorations. Depending on the design, they can either be partially or completely operated on their own, or they can transport crews.

There's a couple of bad ideas that come to mind knowing this information: one being they may have plans to come up here eventually and if they aren't fully aware how many of us are here, they'll find out.

Research also indicated "interdimensional colonization". We've been well aware for a while they're able to access portals into other worlds.

The drives also contained some notes on Project Chimera and talks of previous genetic projects the UE's researched. I'll forward anyone who wants a copy of these notes to look over.

[ For those who ask and receive: here. ]

Has anyone begun to compile the information we have together to make it more streamlined? I imagine the AI can likely do it if you ask.

[The last time Saul was seen on the network, he was about to choke out a member of the Initiative.

He's calmed down since then.

In fact, the look with which he greets the network is positively cheerful, thought not so much that it takes away from the businesslike atmosphere he's trying to cultivate with this post — he's got work to do, damn it, so he's in the most official-looking room he could find, seated in front of the camera with folded hands. Suit: check, tie: check, pocket square: check.]

This isn't how the story goes, but: good morning, Moon.

For those of you who don't know me, the name's Saul Goodman. I work for the Department of Initiative-Transport Relations with the lovely Queen Medusalith Amaquelin-Boltagon — [He pauses to smirk. What a mouthful, right?] — and a whole slew of other equally lovely folks. We're here to help you in matters concerning Initiative-Transport goings on. Now, here I'd usually take the opportunity to ask you all to lay whatever questions you might have on me, but because things are so crazy right now, the best answer I can give to any question will probably be a confident "I don't know."

We'll update you as we're updated.

Anyway, I'm coming to you today with a request. Lots of people are gearing up to go on supply runs, which is great. Go team. If those of you who've gone on runs already or plan to go could check in with me here and let me know what it is you're bringing back, that'd be super helpful. I'll make a list that everyone can refer back to, so no one has to double-up on fetching supplies that might not be necessary.

[So he might be a little bit worried about the lack of resurrection technology. That might be a thing. He just doesn't want anyone taking unnecessary risks for the sake of DVDs or... or whatever.]

Thanks.

[It's early Wednesday morning when a new video message turns up on the network. The nun seems to have none of her usual energy and the bags under her eyes are fairly pronounced. Flynn and Fluffy have likely put up with her pacing almost incessantly since dinner time last night, and even now she fidgets in her seat, fingers playing with an ornamental looking watch hanging at her neck.]

Has anyone seen Chrono? Short, grumpy, purple hair. He's usually with me.

... He might have been in some kind of fight, so I'll take anything. Or anyone to help me look.

[ Baaa Baa-aa-aaaaaa Baaaaaaaaaaa! ]

I say, hello, hel-looooo! I have a question for you all--

[ The grime-smeared face of Xerxes Break appears onscreen. His white hair is discolored with dust and stuck together. There's a semicircular wound under his right cheekbone, and the shoulder of his jacket looks chewed. Despite all of this, he seems terribly pleased with himself. ]

Does anyone here have qualifications in animal husbandry?

[ More angry bleating and a yelp! Break turns. Visible in the background is another (also dirty and disheveled) man, desperately fending off a sheep. It’s not going at all according to plan; with a single headbutt he’s out of the camera’s line of sight, followed by a thud and worrisome tinkling noises. ]

Why, Gilbert. I think she likes you! ♥

[ Moving right along... ]

Anyway - yes. I'm looking specifically for people with experience or interest in shepherding, as well as shearing, spinning, knitting, cheese-making--

[ Another CRASH! and a voice yelling, “Break, look out!" ]

--and hand-to-hand combat! Kindly respond to this post, or apply in person to the botanical gar--

[ Break’s face suddenly disappears. The last image visible onscreen is… this. ]

[Today, two unforgivable errors were made: the first, he let Rosette use the kitchen.

The second: He let Rosette use the kitchen.

When the feed blinks to life, the serenity of the figure facing the camera is directly at odds with the thunderous cacophony in the background. Chrono just smiles blandly at his unseen audience as a terrible burst of sparks makes itself visible in—is his back to the apartment's kitchen?]

I just had a quick question. [He might as well dive right into it, as a crash echoes around the apartment. He doesn't even flinch.] Does anyone here know how to repair electronics? A microwave, specifically? I think apartment number 304 could use your services.

[It's here that Rosette comes into view, hurdling around the corner as smoke billows in her wake; if Chrono were actually looking, he might think it seems appropriate for Rosette's definition of an entrance. It's unclear whether she's addressing Chrono or the tablet (even realizes he's talking to the tablet) when she bellows FIRE! THAT'S A FIRE! It's very likely the former based on how the serenity of Chrono's smile twitches into something that speaks silent danger for someone.]

Quickly, if it isn't too much trouble? [The feed doesn't cut off; evidently, his quiet fury is such that he completely forgets to turn off the tablet before hurling it across the room to go perform some manner of intervention.

It lands facing a ceiling that is growing increasingly smokey.]

( action / in case you want to help, judge, or laugh at them. all options are legit. )

[With the video set up nice and neatly so she's shown sitting properly at her desk, Seles doesn't waste any time getting to the point.]

For those of you more informed in the workings of this city, I have a question! Is there a form I can fill out to request the removal of a roommate?

I believe there's a point where so much time dealing with an issue is enough to file an official complaint. They'll do something about this, won't they? [They better...! She's just been thinking on this the past two weeks and wondering how to approach it, if her huffy expression doesn't share that enough.]

...That is all, so thank you in advanced.

[The voice on the other side of the tablet is young and vaguely male, and a little hesitant. Despite being here for months, this is is the first time he's actually tried posting to the network himself, and addressing a sizable, unseen audience, live, is somehow daunting. . . But he knows he needs to find someone, sooner rather than later, so:]

Er. Good afternoon! I'm wondering... if there is anyone here who is skilled with a sword, who would be willing to help train a beginner? I've a few months' practice already. And I don't require formal lessons, but I would appreciate a sparring partner. [ a pause, he clears his throat ]

But, if preferred, I could provide compensation for lessons...

[Though he'd rather not, it seems only prudent to offer. —And oh, right:]

Right, also, my sword is— a bit broad. And tall. And held with one hand? I don't know if that matters!

[He knows for a fact there are talented swordsmen here. One in particular comes to mind immediately, but he's not going to just ask him. And there's one or two others he could possibly wheedle lessons out of, but isn't it best to cast a wide net?

He's about to end the feed there, when he remembers one last thing: ]

And if it's all right, I have a question for those who use one of the Initiative's sentient weapons. ...How long did you train with it before it began to 'evolve'? Were the changes very drastic?

Thank you very much!

[ The feed comes up to life and Gwen is by the window, watching the street outside.

Perhaps she is concerned, perhaps she's simply tired. ]

To those who helped me to improve the state of the Civic Gardens for the purpose of a memory headstone, thank you. I don't know if the recent bombings have spoiled our work but -

[ she bites on her lip, clears her throat and turns from the window. ]

I know very little of what I can do for this city. I am a maidservant, not a warrior. I don't have great powers or special skills with a sword but -

I'll help in whatever way I can. A friend of mine once taught me that every action has its significance, as small as it may appear and I suppose it's this knowledge that made him who he was. Is.

[ and she misses him. she was silly to forget that lesson. ]

....I will need more help in the Civic Gardens, if you can provide it. I will be there every afternoon. And if there are any smithies working in the city I would like to speak to them, if it's not too much trouble.

[Filtered from Seles]

[A rare video feed from Kaneis comes on, partly because one of his roommates had to turn on the tablet. It becomes quickly apparently why- it seems his hands and locks of his hair are tangled up with strips of brightly colored leopard print duct tape. Someone attempted to do home repairs when they knew absolutely nothing about home repair. The background shows one giant hole in the wall about six inches in diameter, just to give you an idea. Allen is next to him, trying to get some of the duct tape off]

Okay okay- I'll ask! Just get me outta this stuff!

[He gives a huff and looks at the camera. He looks rather disgruntled]

Say, does anyone out there know where a person can get a couch? Ours kinda...got wrecked the other day and we can't fix it.

Oh and, stuff to seal up holes in the wall? That'd be good too.

Thanks in- [And then he YELLS "OW" as Allen his roommate pulls a piece out of his hair not so gently]

ALLEN! THAT WAS MY HAIR!

[Transmission end!]

[The video feed is deliberate and the woman broadcast is someone obviously very serious about what she is about to say. While certainly beautiful the burn scars that spread across her face, half hidden behind a curtain of blond hair, only serve to intensify her severity. From here it doesn’t take a genius to see that behind her professionalism she is pissed. Hell hath no fury like a woman taken from her home world.

A cute little monkey sits on her shoulder within the feed frame.]

I will make this quick; I am General Klaud Nine of the Black Order. While this may not hold as much meaning here as it does where I hail from, let me assure you I do not intend to let my title go to waste during my stay here.

Any and all updated information concerning our situation with the United Earth that has not yet been documented - [as in she has yet to find out about through this weird-ass tablet thing] as well as an estimated number of reported transports currently here would be greatly appreciated.

Those that may hail from my world please report in.

Thank you.

[ The video feed switches on to show a large number of stuffed animals lined up neatly across Sophie's bed. A stuffed rabbit sits on top of the pillow, further away from the rest. Those who were around during for Separation Awareness Day in February may recognize that these plushies came from the festival in February. Sophie can't be seen on screen, but she can be heard speaking. There might even be a quick glimpse of her long pigtails swaying around. ]

When my best friend Lara was sick, she couldn't get out of bed. I didn't want her to feel lonely when I left her house, so I brought her lots and lots of dolls. That way, she'd never feel lonely again. It made her really happy.

I was thinking... since I have lots of dolls left over from the festival a few months ago, I want to give them away to people who need the company or something to cheer them up.

Kaneis already took the dragon, Allen has the chicken, and I have the rabbit. Hmm. Kaneis named his Flarey, I think. [ ...Or was it Flamey? ] Allen and I named our dolls in memory of Tiger Festival. [ Their pet rabbit, Tiger Festival. Or more like only Sophie herself decided on that name. ]

So, if anyone wants one, come to Unit 103. If you can't come, let me know. I'll bring the dolls to you.

[ And finally, Sophie shows herself on screen, waving goodbye and ends the feed. ]

_{( For once, Remy might actually be in his apartment. He's sitting on his bed, not in coat or costume but a simple cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's got a roll of cloth bandages, and is wrapping his hands methodologically. )}

Y'all really know how ta discuss, you know that? I'm very impressed.

_{( He's not, actually. He thinks the talking around such matters is a waste of time, and also a way to show the Initiative their hand. But he doesn't say so. )}

But I have ta say, all this bleak talk ain't really for me. Can't keep at it for very long. Désolé.

So, for those of you who care ta lighten the mood, here's a game. First player--that'd be me, I like ta deal--gives you a word. You say the first thing that comes ta your mind, after that. An' y'keep goin', over an' over, until someone cracks an' has ta ask the reasonin' behind your answer.

Whether y'tell 'em is up ta you.

_{( He laughs, to himself. )}

It's an option, anyways. If you don't wantta keep talkin' 'bout how unhappy y'all are.

_{( ooc / idk if this'll come up but if you want to threadjack and play with each other, i'm totally cool with that. )}

[Exsilium might not be expecting to see a smiling face on their network so soon after the battle, but that's what you get with this guy being among your ranks. He gives the camera a little wave.]

Hello! Is everyone recovering from the battle? It's good that the Initiative can resurrect people, don't you think? Otherwise that would have turned out rather badly.

Anyway, I wanted to say thanks to the people who tried to come to the rescue of my world. If we've not met, I'm Elmer C. Albatross, the person who was sent back. After what happened, it might be hard to think about this positively. But there's a few things we can take to heart! Like the fact that people can be ressurrected, or that while one world may have been taken over, it probably wasn't your world, and you might still be able to return to your own someday!

As for mine, well... Not much can be done about that, now. I suppose Exsilium is my home, now. The friends I was travelling with are like me, so they'll survive no matter what. I just hope someday things will return to normal there, so the survivors can find reasons to smile again! You're all still here, fellow transports, so I hope you continue to smile on as well!

... Hmf.

[A grouchy voice. Cyril is a little too effusive some (all) of the time, but he's still family, and after deciding his fellow Noah was too quiet and subsequently sniffing around for a sign of the man and finding - nothing, nothing - well.

It doesn't put Tyki in the best of moods.

You better be all right, Cyril, or Tyki might have to lift a finger doing something unfun, and who wants that?]

Talk about a short performance with an anticlimactic ending. [Sniffs.] That's the way it works around here, I suppose. Promising build up and then a whole lot of nothing afterward. Speaking of that, I am bored. These people don't use what they catch.

Better to arrive here a traveler, eh? [He isn't what you'd call hurting at the loss of his brother/brother-in-arms. And he can take whatever the Exorcists decide to bring. But still.] Australia, now. That was a good trip. Kangaroo is pretty tasty. And it's not as if we ever see sunlight in this dour shithole. Too bad we couldn't be waging war from around that time in Australia.

[Weird place to cut off. But it seems like that's it.]

[The beautiful sound of silence, an open feed clicking on with nothing to follow.

But then there is a low chuckle. The clearing of a throat.] My, my! Quite the predicament.

I can’t say I’m too thrilled with any aspect of this… arrangement, but it’s been intriguing so far. Explanations have been exceptionally succinct as well, I must admit. All that’s left is to take a moment to dwell on what I’ve learned, soak it all in. Quite a lot for an ordinary man to take in, you must already know.

[…]

Hm... There is one dear, troubling problem.

I just don’t room with anyone like some common vagrant. So these two other ‘Transports’ assigned to share unit 1409 best vacate the premises and find other lodgings for the time being. Certainly you understand, no?

It’s not negotiable, I’m afraid.

[ If the Initiative ever wanted proof of how well they expanded their network's range, this would be it.

Normally Caesar isn't prone to using video, but this will be one of his few exceptions. He's sitting in a large metal chair, one with all sorts of technical whatzits and doodads that he'll never ever fully understand on his own attached. For those more future-inclined, it looks an awful lot like the captain's chair of, say, a spaceship's bridge. He waits a few beats until he's sure the tablet, either held by someone else or propped up on something across from him, is broadcasting. ]

Good evening, Exsilium.

If someone would be kind enough to go wake the Initiative up for us and let them know we have something large, space-faring, and very high up above the island right now that we'd like to bargain with them for, that would be really great.

( OOC note: Feel free to threadjack! This is totally a threadjackable post. )

[ Squeak squeak squeak squeaksqueak squeak squeeeeeeak. ]

People just love having pets, don't they~? ♥

[ Xerxes Break is in the marketplace, broadcasting as he walks along. The picture is wobbling up and down with each step. People who tend towards motion sickness might wish to look away. ]

Unconditional adoration from a constant companion--

WHO DOESN'T CARE HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE!

[ This last outburst seems to have come from the blonde, blue-skinned, horribly-grinning doll on Break's shoulder. He chides her, waggling his finger: ]

Now, now Emily. One mustn't blurt out the truth like that, people don't like it. As I was saying, a pet is a maaaaaaarvelous thing, isn't it? Always with you, underfoot, getting in your way, knocking against your shins, and being utterly and completely...

[ Squeak squeak squeak squeak. ]

--ah, haha! Well anyway, it's worth it, all that bother, in exchange for the warm feelings you get, right? Alas, alack and well-a-day, I have no time for such things, so I thought perhaps I'd offer my pet up for adoption.

[ Now the camera angle tilts, to show off Break's "pet": it's a little red wagon, following him through the marketplace, moving entirely on its own accord. One of its wheels has a high-pitched, persistent, eardrum-drilling… squeak. ]

I can't give him away for free, of course, but I'm willing to entertain all reasonable offers. I simply want to see him in a gooooood home, that is to say--

[ SQUEAK! ]

--not mine!

( locked ⇢ voice; )


[ video; ]

[ Anyone scrolling through the network will come across a video feed of this brunette preteen humming to herself as her eyes focus on the right side of the screen. After a moment, she sighs in frustration and rubs her face with both hands before speaking. ]

And I thought my teacher gave me a lot of homework. At least these people don't test us on all of this stuff.

......they don't, right? [ She huffs, muttering to herself. ] They better not. Anyway, is anyone else new to this world like I am?

[ The name on the tablet reads "Morgana". ]

I am looking for a man. Yellow of hair and green of eyes. His name is Jaime Lannister.

If anyone knows of him.


[ And later: ]

What do we know of those who are gone?


( private | allen walker )

[The feed shows a teenager with red hair. Really red. He's more ginger than a Weasley. He's still trying to figure out the device, apparently. The setting seems to be a kitchen, nothing special.

He sighs, making the bangs fly away from his nose, if only briefly.]

That mission was... something. I want to thank everyone who helped me when I first got here. As it turns out, I've got a couple questions for anyone who wants to answer them.

First, where can I get a journal? Nothing fancy-- I just need a place to write things down. As long as it can handle being shoved in an item bag, it'll be fine.

Also, is everything the Initiative told us true? It's not that I can't believe what's in front of me, but I like to see things for myself. I just got here, so I don't know much. About anything, really.

I think that's it for now. ... Thanks. [He fumbles with the device a bit, brow furrowed, and then it shuts off.]

( PRIVATE to DICK GRAYSON )

( PRIVATE to ZEVRAN ARAINAI )

I don't suppose anyone remembers, but back in December I came across an old synagogue here. I've spoken to the citizens here who use it for shelter every now and then and they also thought it would be a good idea to help clean and fix it up. I'm no contractor and I can't offer anything in return unfortunately... I've only noticed a lot of people asking if there's something to do around here.

If you're interested, I figured helping out the people here would be one small step forward. Someone's got to eventually help with some of these buildings, hm? I also imagine there's got to be a few people who know a thing or two about repairing interiors. I noticed there was talk of building a greenhouse a few days ago.

[ A lengthy pause. ]

And a question since most on the network apparently enjoy them: do you think there's such thing as too much information? [ It's been on her mind for a couple of weeks now. ]

I read about Valentine's Day. [ Because who cares about Separation anyway Valentine's Day is more important. She has her priorities. ]

It is a day... for lovers. Am I correct? Or can it be celebrated with friends? What about those in between? Oh, I don't know what I'm saying. Keep yourself together, Kougyoku! A-anyway. Who is this Saint Valentine? What sort of gifts does one give on this day? Has anyone had any... pleasant experiences with it? That is, I mean - I'm just wondering how proper celebration of Valentine's Day is done! Th-that's all.

And, if, anyone is interested in watching the fireworks with me... Ahah, nevermind. [ She's too shy to offer. ]

Judal is not allowed to reply to this.

[Look who finally bothered to figure out the communicator. After how many months of being here? But, well, he's conversed enough that Tyki figures he can figure out how not to flub up his own entry to this bizarre communal journal too much.

He sounds the picture of a good-humored gentleman but you won't see his face. Better not to show too much, with Allen around - the boy knows both his White and Black forms, after all. Tyki wouldn't want to blow his cover for his White side, or let Allen do that. Cover might well be a problem eventually.

But not now and who wants to think about that? Now, he sounds the picture of a good humored gentleman, even if there's no saying one way or another that he looks it.

A chuckle.] Do you lot complain as much at home as you do here? Or have as much philosophical conversation? Either that lot have really terrible luck targeting their little device, or your homes must be very dry places.

Who else is looking for some fun while you've got a chance of it? Let's talk. It's always good to find a new pastime, isn't it?

[one of the few, if vague, things that Frodo remembers from his time before in Exsilium is how to work the tablet. The hobbit on the video is a tween, voice a bit higher than before and a mischievous look to his eyes.

He's leaned down, as if forming a conspiracy with all those on the network; whispering (loudly still) with possible partners in crime, if you will]

Has anyone got a list of what the kitchens around here serve? Or what times they find themselves the busiest? This is very important!

[Lloyd seems a bit perturbed as the feed starts. Seriously, it's been over a week and he's only finding out what happened now? He really needs to pay more attention to this tablet thing, but he's still used to the communicator he had before. N-Not that he's been looking at that instead out of habit and wondering why it's so quiet before he remembers...]

Is it seriously already a New Year here? I just saw it's that January month again. The years on this world are really short! Did you even have that Halloween thing again, or does that not happen every year?