open.

[tg]

CHARACTERS: Dave Strider and OPEN.
LOCATION: Lifts or kitchens! Feel free to utilize either of the provided starters or to start something up on your own.
WARNINGS: N/A! TBA! Either or both! Will edit as/if necessary
SUMMARY: Dave Strider farts around a spaceship. Go poke him. He's stupid.

NOTES: Events in this log are flexible, so we can backdate or forward-date as your needs may require. Also, I'm cool with both prose and action: feel free to reply with your preference, and I'll match your style. :|b


OPTION A - LIFTS
Maybe your character is heading somewhere specific, or maybe they're just wandering about aimlessly. Regardless of their particular circumstances, they eventually come to one of the lifts and hit the call button, and when it finally arrives, it seems the lift is already occupied. There's a fifteen year old in Ray-Ban aviators and red pajamas, sitting on a green ghost pogo ride that's obviously been uprooted from the backyard of some kid who hadn't hit puberty yet. As a result, the fifteen year old swathed in red currently occupying its plastic saddle might be a tad too tall for the darn thing.

Dave looks up from his compromised vantage point as if he's not the jackass on a yard ornament. "What floor?"


OPTION B - KITCHENS
But maybe your character was headed somewhere specific, and that place happened to be one of the kitchens. In that case, Dave's already there, standing by a counter, green ghost pogo ride occupying the stool beside him. He's stirring some instant coffee powder into hot water and talking to himself.

Or to the pogo ride. It's debatable.

"—can't believe I miss that shitty coffee pod thing. Sure, this stuff touts itself as instant, just add water and bam, insta-stimulant, but it's not goddamn instant enough."

Because having to stir thoroughly is way too much work.

Comments

[tg]

Oh, whoops. Dave didn't realize that was actually a question Alex wanted an answer for. Not that he'll own up to that.

"You're spot on, dude. Fifteen. Other me is a year behind though."

[redhotsummers]

"Got any idea when your sweet sixteen is going to be or whatever?" Because Alex would totally throw a party, you know.

Sorry for the late, slowly working through old things. orz

[tg]

Dave opens his mouth like words are about to come out but closes it instead, because he realizes he isn't sure how to answer.

"That depends, I guess. I mean, I know when my birthday will be—theoretically, and relative to how time moves back in my universe—but does any amount of time elapsed here count if everything back home is on pause? What I'm trying to say is, am I aging, Alex?" He rubs his hands around the area his boobs would be, if he had them. "Am I developing?"

[redhotsummers]

Alex makes a fake, and rubs his hands over his eyes. He needs a lot of bleach to get that out of his mind. "What is wrong with you!" There is a little laugh bubbling up on his lips, but still, still.

[tg]

By some absurd miracle, Dave manages to keep a straight face—even though he's still gently cradling his non-existent manboobs—but by the end of his response, his deadpan has cracked into a self-satisfied smirk. "Is that a question you actually want an answer for?"

[redhotsummers]

"No, probably not." Alex shrugged, opening his eyes again. "But seriously--when it's your birthday, or whenever you want to decide it's your birthday, I'm throwing you a party."

[tg]

"Now are we talking the cake and confetti kind of party, or the strippers and spirits kind?"

Can't stop, won't stop.

[redhotsummers]

"First off, I don't think any ladies on here are strippers, and second, I do think you're too young for that. So we'll go with cake and booze."

[tg]

"Fiiiiine," Dave drawls in faux-exasperation. "Cheap-o. How 'bout you, August-man? When's your birthday?"