trans_9 | Tube-hopping [OPEN ; warning for language]

Bored. Bored. Boring.

After the initial oh my god I'm on a spaceship wore off, Rondeau discovered that there wasn't really much to do. Sure, he could read a book or something on the jumbo-Kindles in the media library, or watch a movie, but that could only entertain him for so long.

For the most part, he'd been hanging back. Observing. Marla would be proud of him for not just jumping in like a big-ass idiot and running his mouth. By this point, he'd pretty much he'd pretty much surmised the following: There was all sorts of weird shit here, and he was probably the least of it. What he was didn't need to be broadcasted, but it would behoove him to find someone who was in charge and have a little chat with them. (Not that he especially liked having to put his life on the line, if the situation called for it, but it sure as hell beat sitting around.) He also figured topics like sorcery were probably okay to go on about, but he wasn't keen on blabbing too much about that, if only because his boss would kick him with her magically-reinforced steel-toed boots for his trouble. And last, but not least, he knew really, really needed a drink. A big fat hamburger would be nice, too.

So, in lieu of actually knowing where to find somebody to talk to (either someone that he needed to talk to, or that was worth talking to, he wasn't picky), Rondeau was just riding transport tubes at random.

Well, it kept him occupied at least.

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Exploring never gets boring! Or at least, that's what Wyn keeps telling herself. In fact, she's actually grown old of trying to find anything that isn't squishy. She's found the transport tubes and is looking up at them skeptically, trying to decide whether or not to enter one. (Her only other experience with them was... slightly traumatic.)

Rondeau pretty much got the hang of these by this point. In fact, he was getting bored already. Ah, such were the perils of having little-to-no attention span.

He was just about to pick another tube when he noticed Wyn and and the look on her face. He flashed her a grin. "It's not all that bad. Like a McDonald's playplace on acid, maybe."

That skeptical look? It's been turned on Rondeau now. "The first part of what you said was reassuring. The second part? Not so much." she says, raising one eyebrow slightly.

His grin broadened a bit. "For what it's worth, I've been using these things all day and I'm not dead yet." Not that he could die, but she didn't need to know that. Besides, a little company might be nice, if he could convince her the transport tubes weren't gonna eat her.

Well... he certainly didn't look dead ~~but that doesn't mean much~~. "Where do they go, anyway?" Wyn asks, bracing her hands on the sides of a random tube and peering up.

"Damn near everywhere," he remarked. "Part of the fun is not knowing where you're gonna end up." Of course, a few more trips, and he'd have them memorized. Assuming that Stacy didn't like to fuck with him and change them up at random.

"Is the other part of the fun throwing yourself into something that looks like it's going to swallow you alive and then let you slowly digest over several days until you're person-soup?" Wyn asks brightly. She's kidding... well, mostly. The squishiness bothered her.

"If you're into that kind of thing, sure." He shrugged. "I figure if this place wanted to eat us, it would've done it by now." They had a-- what was the phrasing? Oh, right. A 'great purpose'. He didn't think that purpose included becoming lunch.

"Fair enough." Wyn shrugs, giving the transports one last, considering look. "I still think I'll walk."

"I'm Wyn, by the way." she continues, turning to Rondeau with a smile.

"I'm Rondeau," was the reply, with a smile to match her own. She was cute, he'd give her that. "If you're walking, would you mind some company?"

"I'm not actually going anywhere. It's more sort of, um..." she trails off, wiggling her fingers as she tries to think of the best word. "Wandering. You can come if you want, though." Because really, she's not going to turn down (hot) company at this point.

"That's kind of what I was hoping to hear, actually." That's basically what he'd been doing anyway, and hell, wandering on his own was bound to get old sooner rather than later.

"So... Pick a direction!" Wyn says brightly, looking down the corridors. "Right looks slightly less squishy, but I'm not about to be choosy."

"I've had enough squishy for today, so right it is," he remarked, setting off down the corridor. Okay, so everywhere was some form of squishy or another, but 'slightly less squishy' was better than nothing.

"So where are you from-- well, when are you from might be a better starting question." Wyn says, correcting herself mid-sentence. She's had more than enough of squishy for a lifetime, thanks very much; the lack of steel and concrete and glass was bothering her.

Rondeau quirked a brow. Sure, people being here from different worlds made sense - it was a spaceship after all - but different times? The thought hadn't occurred to him. "When? 2008. As for the where, the city of Felport. Kind of up in the New York area. You?

"Yes! Finally, someone not from the future!" Wyn says excitedly, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

"Anyway, um... 2009, and I'm living in Scotland at the moment, but I'm from the Gaeltacht Quarter of London." Wyn says, tilting her head to the side thoughtfully. None of that explains why she sounds Irish, though.

Well, if there's an unasked question. far be it from Rondeau to let it stay that way. His curiosity was insatiable, and his manners always lacking just enough to keep him asking (and picking locks, and poking his nose where it doesn't belong and---). "So why do you sound Irish?"

((ooc; gah sorry it took me so long to get back to you.))

Wyn likes curiosity, just... not when the answer's fairly obvious. "'Cause I'm Irish?" she suggests, only implying the word 'duh' at the end. "'S what the Gaeltacht means. I speak Gaelic. ... well, not right now, obviously, I'm speaking English right now, but yeah. Gaelic. Irish."

[ooc: no problem! xD]

Tony (aka Plays-in-Traffic) was eying the tubes skeptically. He'd jumped in them once or twice, but in general he preferred to walk to where he needed to be. Reminded him way too much of a few Wyrm things he'd run into once or twice.

He poked at one with one hand with a sigh, "Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained. Yeah, right."

Rondeau had just made an exit out of a nearby tube. He paused a moment to straighten his jacket (this one was powder blue. He couldn't salvage the rest of his suit, which was a shame since it had been one of his favorites, but it was better than nothing) before taking a look around.

"They don't bite," he remarked, meandering over in Tony's direction.

Tony grins weakly, "Yeah, I figured, man. Just... bad shit happened with some stuff that reminds me of these tube things. Not that I'm gonna let that get the best of me. Just... gimme the creeps, you know?"

"What, you get eaten or something?" Maybe it wasn't the most tactful of questions, but Rondeau was always curious, and always discourteous enough to ask. He couldn't help it.

Tube-hopping [OPEN ; warning for language]

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