quadruplerehab: (more sadistic than an infant)
So this is what passes for visiting hours, is it? The massed ranks of the damned and their gaolers alike, peering into the dark in the hope that a familiar face might be looking back?

Christ. Spare me.

[He clicks off, then clicks back on.]

Oh, actually, one thing. Anyone from the Trans-Vegas Casino picks this up? Might as well call off your knee-crusher droids, you'll find I'm out of range.

Speaking of which, anyone around here play cards? Pool? Tiddlywinks?
quadruplerehab: (but there's nothing)
[John is sitting on the bed in his cabin - a very white, featureless hotel room - with a bottle of liquor in his hand. It's nearly empty. He has a nearly-healed split lip and some bruising on his face that's all around a week old.]

So how's a man meant to get a warden around here, eh? Not even a temporary bit of hand-holding? Tch.

[He takes a slug from the bottle.]

Flood was a hell of a thing. Still, anybody wants a better reason to be kept up all night? [He smiles brightly.] Need only ask. Find us a phone that works and I'll get you excellent references from at least five star systems.

Open Spam )
quadruplerehab: (it makes him so angry at me)
[John's sitting in the dining hall, cup of coffee on the table in front of him, holding his communicator at arm's length with one hand.]

So. Prison ship, eh?

Tidy little business, this. Sailing the multiverse, scooping up its villains and its heroes, pitting them against each other in an epic battle for the souls of the forsaken - [He makes a grand arm gesture, pauses for effect, then relaxes and chuckles.] Classic. And I do like the period detailing. Earth, early twentieth? Thereabouts? Very post-modern. Or, you know, positively archaic. Or as-yet-unheard-of. Depends where you're standing.

...Got to wonder what the man in charge is getting out of this, though, haven't you?

Anyway. Captain John Hart. [He pulls off a lazy salute.] Delighted to be here, et cetera. Compliments to whomsoever performed the cavity search - not so much as a twinge. One small question.

[He gulps his coffee, then sets down the mug.]

Who've I got to go down on for something stronger than caffeine?

[Transmission ends, then abruptly restarts:]

Or up on, or under, or over. I'm a thirsty man of eclectic tastes.

[He raises his coffee cup in a toast, grins, then disappears again.]

Open Spam )

Profile

quadruplerehab: (Default)
quadruplerehab

January 2025

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031 

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Mar. 30th, 2026 02:49 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios