8th Wave

[tentacruelest]

Th' next time this Barge feels like poking around in my head, I'll be keeping to my quarters. The lot of yeh - useless dregs not fit to scrub a floor. It's bad enough I'm locked in here with you, I don't need to call any of yeh friends.

[Private to Bush]

Was dealing with me yerself so difficult that you sought to work through less offensive channels, Captain?

[Private to Arthas]

A word, my king.

[Can you feel that heavy sarcasm, Arthas?]

Comments

[tentacruelest]

I'll be sure to carve out their hearts and present them t'yeh. Then yeh can speak of misreading.

[routemistress]

Please. Victor's tried that already and where'd it get 'im?

Go back to stroking your organ on your own, Jones. You're boring.

[tentacruelest]

Then cease babbling to me.

[Private]

[impure_tale]

Would it be a comfort to you if I were to mark our conversation as private, Captain?

[Private]

[tentacruelest]

It doesn't matter to me what you keep in mind to do, Marquis. Not unless you plan to take advantage.

[routemistress]

Aye. There's bound to be some paint I can watch drying instead.

[Private]

[impure_tale]

You said nothing that I could take advantage of if I were so inclined. I am not other people, however, so I will respect if you would prefer our exchange be kept in confidence.

[tentacruelest]

You were th' one that spoke to me first, woman. But perhaps I can look to make this journey a little more exciting for yeh.

[Private]

[tentacruelest]

I am not embarrassed of a damned flood! Merely annoyed at having been coerced into talking to you longer than I ordinarily find enjoyable. Which is to say, longer than half a minute.

[routemistress]

Gets any more exciting I might pee meself.

[She's stopped smirking, and it shows, now, how tired and hollow-eyed she looks behind it.]

Do what you like. I couldn't give a toss.

[tentacruelest]

Yeh are near enough to despair already. It's difficult to pull someone from th' brink only to cast 'em back down again.

[myironeyes]

Stop.

The more threats you make, the more people will fuss at you instead of leaving you alone.

Iris, come help me feed Aster.

[routemistress]

Despair and me 'aven't ever been on speaking terms, sunshine, not even now. Get stuffed and deepfried.

[tentacruelest]

Only because they feel my threats will go unfulfilled.

[Private]

[impure_tale]

We've never had a conversation that lasted less than even a minute, much less half of one. Even this one.

The only thing I thought especially out of character for you was your willingness to admit you were enjoying yourself.

[tentacruelest]

I hear the wounds and pain in yer voice, Iris Wildthyme. Yeh are too old for this world. How long before all wonder goes out for yeh and all that's left is boredom and indifference? Is that why yeh are so unaffected by my threats? Will the screams of your adopted boys fall on deaf ears, as they did not two weeks ago?

[Private]

[tentacruelest]

How could I possibly enjoy myself with you lurking about?

[myironeyes]

No.

I've been watching Hannibal Lecter since his release.

More people approach him now. It is harder to cow people who don't die. A few may weary of it, but the most bothersome ones will only see it as a challenge to continue aggravating you.

So stop.

[voice]

[routemistress]

[It would be stupid to start crying again now. Good thing Marsh can't see the comm screen. She switches it to voice anyway, because Jones can and she has her pride.]

On me way, love.

[routemistress]

Longer'n you've got the patience for, Spongebob, no matter where.

Birds to feed. It's been... something.

[tentacruelest]

I'd love t'hear how you intend to force me, Marsh. Torturing others is the only entertainment I seem to get these days.

[tentacruelest]

Go. Ye'll hear from me again. Or from those I send to deliver messages to you.

[spam]

[myironeyes]

[He puts an arm around her as soon as she's through his door.]

[Private]

[impure_tale]

You tell me, dearheart; I cannot read your mind.

[spam]

[routemistress]

[She's shaking with rage and grief, and she clings to Marsh like a child.]

M'sorry. I should know better. Shooting fish in a barrel. Now I might've set 'im on Zane or Rorschach or Chris or someone.