[log] New Year's Mingle [open]

[rubikscomplex]

Characters: Anyone in the Bunker
Location: Bunker
Date: Let's go with January...
Summary: Mingling in the Bunker
Warnings: Add to subject line!

[All of the rooms within the Bunker have been opened. The latest, Room 19, contains computer parts. They'll need to use those, the soldering gun and other equipment in that room to create some sort of interface with the last locked door in Room 4. There are cables to connect up to the tablets, so maybe that will help, as well. And they still have other computers in Room 24 and 26 to use.

There are other things to be about, as well. The Bunker is, as ever, cold, slightly glowing, and moldy. And there are plenty of other rooms to check in on.]

Comments

[phaseshifter]

Can we not make little minx a thing, please? 'Cause that will make me puke.

[ Rhys' hand doesn't get as much of a reaction from her, because, y'know. Twinsies. She just gives him a vaguely grumpshamed look as she plops her butt back down on the bunk and pats her bag. ]

Didn't scam him, unfortunately. Meds are in there if you need them right now. You might wanna wait a little, though.

[headjacked]

[ Rhys returns the eyeballing, though his gaze is just blank and... tired. Still, The Hand stays turned away, perhaps deliberately. Perhaps not. Most of the blood appears to be dry, at least. Most.

His eyes don’t even light up when Greg mentions the v. Instead he crosses the room and lowers himself next to Angel. ]

This minx is only two feet tall, House. Better have gone easy.

[ He does stare at the source of the bottle rather intently. ]

Never thought you’d be giving us this willingly.

[rubikscomplex]

I gave her 10 mills. She'll either conk out or get spacy. I'm not ODing her.

[Thank you for your input, little minx, the not-soon-to-be-high people are talking.]

And I never thought we'd get to the last door and end up with a game over screen. What'd you do to your hand?

[phaseshifter]

Five feet. Not two.

[ Grump grump grump. Waiting on this to kick in is making her horribly tense and she freaking hates it. ]

Wait! Five feet and two hands. That's a burn on both of you. Eat it.

[headjacked]

[ Rhys tries to nudge her with his freezing cold robot elbow, but, well. The limb barely jerks. That's a problem, probably more serious than the gashed hand he flashes at House, fingers wiggling. ]

We decided to take the whole Blood Siblings thing to the next level. Go big or go home, right?

[rubikscomplex]

Those aren't hands, those are paws you've got. You sure your dad wasn't part werewolf?

[Burn yourself, Angel.]

And good times. I mean, if one of you's got a blood-borne disease, doesn't really matter anymore.

[phaseshifter]

Big hands jokes are old and tired, dude. Like you. I am freaking on fire.

[ She raises a hand for Rhys to high five. Gently, pls. Let's not reopen any palm wounds here. ]

[headjacked]

Burn, baby, burn.

[ Rhys obliges with the softest of high fives -- finger contact only -- before giving into his pain and going for the bottle of vicodin.

Fuck it, it's go time. Dry swallowing like a pro before Angel can object. ]

Now maybe someone should.... hide these, I'm not sure I trust VicoMe to behave.

[rubikscomplex]

Just wait 'til the drugs kick in. We'll see who you really are under all those freckles.

[And he's not hiding the Vicodin from Rhys. Angel, that's your job.]

And who he is under the robotics.

[phaseshifter]

You're choosing my freckles as my distinctive feature? Not the glowy-ass tattoos? The hyphen is between the glowy and the ass. Not the ass and the tattoos.

[ VERY IMPORTANT. Almost as important as snatching the drugs away from Rhys and stuffing the bottle back into her bag, which she clutches to her chest as she glowers at Rhys. ]

You couldn't have waited a little longer??

[headjacked]

Careful, jeez!

[ There is a bit of blood on the bottle, hand having gone slightly oozy. ]

They’re for me, aren’t they? Why not now? We even have doctor supervision.

[rubikscomplex]

[House moves to sit back down again. With the lack of food, he's been more and more tired. His natural over-activity has compensated for it, bringing him down to regular human levels of fiddly and pacing, but he's not immune to the news of their imminent demise. He's depressed, he's starving, and he's just taken his own narcotics. Still, his voice is faux-chipper.]

You can definitely trust me. I got you, babe.

[phaseshifter]

Not a doctor. House.

[ And she gestures at him with both hands as if his words have just proved her point. Which they kind of have. Trusting House? HAHA YEAH OKAY. SURE. GOOD PLAN. ]