"A house is not a home without a dog."

Somewhere along Stacy's labyrinthine halls, a wall pulsed and throbbed. All at once, it opened and spat out one startled, furious...golden-brown dog.

Regaining his bearings with the fluid ease of months of training, Bandit made a precise dodge roll and came up snarling, lip curled, exposing sharp teeth. He launched himself at the wall, which was closing rapidly. From the depths of the meatship, GlaDOs' clinical monotone piped up:
"UNFORTUNATELY, DUE TO A SHORTAGE IN CAKE SUPPLIES, CAKE CANNOT BE DISPENSED AT THIS TIME. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION. IT WAS GREAT FUN. WELL, I THOUGHT SO. GOOD-BYE."

Bandit clawed and bit at the wall so fiercely that Stacy's tentacles emerged to pin him down. His snarling degenerated into mad barking as his frustration grew.

NO! !!NO!! !!WwwwwwwhhhHHHHhiiiiIIIIIIiiiiinnnnNNNNnnnnnEEEEEEeeeeee!! LET GO! BAD! BAD!

Now Chris at this point was a bit annoyed. Even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up every time new arrivals came, but he couldn't help it. He came to the sensoriums to let out some personal frustration. And there was the 'person' responsible for much of it. An image of Xaviax appeared in his human guise, a seemingly normal man.

Chris formed a tight fist and just stood staring at the image.

This was overdue, and maybe still avoiding the issue yet, but Mia told herself she was entitled to go about this a little subtly at first. She'd managed to corner Paco and ask him for some private talk in the Sensorium. She'd set it up like a small living room with some comfy chairs.

As they entered, she plopped herself down on a recliner and stretched out, looking at the ceiling, before looking at him. "So... care to guess what I wanted to talk about?"

Daimon had not resisted arrest, nor did he threaten Leon. Though he was loath the hand over his trident, he did. He did not hand over his Bible, keeping it hidden in what little plant suit he had covering his body (he had ripped most of the pulsing suit off but, to his dismay, it was regrowing).

He was a danger to others. This was the best for everyone.

He opened his Bible to Psalms and started reading.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.

Caden really wishes that he had pockets. His desire for pockets right now is almost unbelievable. It is so strong that he allows his need to drive him to the Thinky Rooms that he has heard so much about, hoping that maybe he can think himself some pockets to aid him in his routine of frustrated pacing.

Yes, he is frustrated. And he is pacing. Well, actually he is walking to the Sensoriums, but hush with the technicalities. Just like every other newcomer to ever set foot on Stacy (except maybe a few of the calmer ones), Caden is completely lost as to what to do with himself anymore. Especially since there were things that had to be done at home, like, oh, looking for his best friend. It had been almost five months since she had disappeared - had simply been... not there - and even though he had teamed up with her asshole of a boss, they had still found nothing as far as an explanation of her disappearance. Kidnapping was their only guess, and it really hadn't done much for them, other than cause a level of nail-biting and snapping at each other that should have been impossible on a scale of one to stressed.

As if his life couldn't get worse, he's now stuck on a meatship without any pockets, without Hex (as he had taken to calling the aforementioned asshole of a boss as a way to simultaneously irritate and comfort him in Wyn's absence), and without any pockets.

Grumbling about creepy suits and a highly inconvenient lack of an article of clothing with (okay, the plantsuits have pockets, he just doesn't want to admit that because they're so... itty... and not big enough for shoving hands into unless you're willing to try really, really hard) pockets, he shoves his way into the Sensoriums, glaring at the white room at large for a long moment before blinking and asking for his favorite pair of jeans. It is quite obvious that his nervous habits are surfacing.

( Grumblegrumble Wyn grumble )

Someone walking into the Sensoriums today will find themselves in an old-style pottery workshop, likely set somewhere in Japan judging by the shōji-style doorways.

There they'll also find Kazuki, deep in concentration as he works at the potter's wheel, working at a lump of clay to try to make it into something interesting.

Even though he still has trouble seeing, just the sounds, the smells, and the general feeling he gets from this place back home--even if it is only an imitation--puts him more at ease.

He continues to work at the clay with his hands, but, obviously not pleased with his work so far (his lack of experience contributing just as much as his lack of sight to this problem), frowns and mashes the clay back into a solid lump, starting over from the beginning.

He'd handled it well, in the beginning at least.

However, months upon months upon months of being stuck in this ship have started to take their toll on Bri.

And even as much as he cares for her, he didn't think he'd miss Deunan this much.

For the past couple of weeks, he's managed to make himself scarce from all the other people, taking time to himself to cool off.

Now, though, he's feeling a bit more sociable, so right now he's up in the Obs Deck, laying back on one of the meat-couches as he looks out the massive window.

Feel free to talk to the slightly mopey cyborg. He looks like he could use it.

It had been nice of the ship to leave him with at least a few of his boomerangs, but Owen felt almost naked with his arsenal depleted so much. Not to mention the fact that this place allegedly got intermittent lethal bug problems. To that end, he needed tools, he needed supplies, and he needed a place to work. Asking around with both the ship and it's inhabitants had pointed him towards the Special Weapons division.

He poked his head in once he got there, looking around. "Yo? Anyone here?"

"Dude," Paco said, dope-slapping Jaime upside the head. "What the hell are you doing?"

After a round of swiftly-uncomfortable conversation and several more of much more fun Mario Kart, Paco had set off to locate his best friend and find out in what possible universe it made sense to make a hot super hero chick who was into you feel emo. Without a very good reason, that was a thing that made no sense at all.

Jaime probably had a very good reason. And unless he spilled it, Paco was going to have to whack him upside the head again.