realityshifted | (no subject)

[Onto the plane lumbers a lean man dressed in a suit and tie, for the most part, with the suit pants replaced with a pair of blue jeans for some ungodly reason. He glances around the plane with a scowl before pulling a bottle of pills from his pocket. He dry swallows two before lumbering over to the technical difficulties sign, a hand over one of his temples.]

Shoulda gotten someone else to do this shit for me.

[He grabs the sign up and places it under one of his arms. The man wavers on his feet for a moment before standing up straight and yelling as loud as he can, so at least one person can hear him.]

Hey! This fucking place is fixed. Sorry for, you know, you people having to deal with more of you popping up. Someone was trying to figure out how the damn selecting people device works. And by figure out, and by someone, I mean I was hitting it with a wrench to see if I could make you all stop showing up. Fat lot of good that did.

So, yeah. It's fixed now, you can go back to being sickening without worrying this place is gonna collapse on itself.

[Raymond Keys: supreme charmer. He's about to leave when he stops, a confused and annoyed expression on his face, and pulls paper out of his pocket. He glances over it, glares, crumples it up and tosses it on the floor.

Then he wordlessly stands there, with all the expression of someone who wants to leave, but isn't allowed to yet.]

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[Crowley arches a brow at the noises, and steps closer to make it out better. It's fixed? Really now. He decides to approach since it looks like he's stuck.]

So I take it you need to make small talk with the test subjects or something?

[Raymond rolls his eyes.]

How astute of you. Yes, I'm being told to, in Jed's words, 'stop being a sourpuss and socialize'. And seeing as he generally has my balls in a vice grip, here I am! Disgusted and a little nauseous, but not bucking the system like the good boy I am.

Would a little alcohol help to remedy the strain you must be under?

No. What would remedy it is you standing about fifteen feet away from me.

[He suddenly fishes into his pocket for the bottle of pills, then shakes them at Crowley.]

Plus, I'm pretty sure these combined with alcohol will kill me. Unless that's your intention, I wouldn't be surprised. Things like you usually don't like things like me.

A shame. I had appreciated the company.

[THERE IS A SAD SOUL IN HERE NOW. But whatever, Mu bends over to pick up the paper. He doesn't read it or anything though.]

Littering is a poor habit.

[He shrugs, but his feet stay planted.]

That wasn't my intention. Believe it or not, I'm not too keen on murder. And what kind of thing are you?

You wanna get on my case? Get on all the people who leave their paperwork laying around first.

[He sniffs disdainfully.]

And it isn't like it'll do anything. Oh no. One piece of crumpled paper in the infinite expanse of the Machine. Surely it will all come apart due to that terrible man.

Unfamiliar with the butterfly effect, hm?

It doesn't matter. Everyone probably knows what you are up here, so what's one guy who can sense that shit gonna matter?

I'm familiar with it. But generally, I don't care. If this place came crashing down, I'd throw a party.

I don't hide the fact that I'm a demon. There's no point in it and I'm not like the others of my kind.

So thus, it doesn't matter what I am or what I can do. What matters is... you stand over there. Away from me. And we can continue talking that way.

That's no reason to make it any less plesant for the rest of us.

[Mu is keeping his distance, remembering that Ray doesn't like to get very close to people.]

What in bloody hell did I ever do to earn such venom?

I hope you get paid enough for this shit.

[Because you, sir, sound as though you have a shit job. He's going to have a smoke on the Plane. Because he can and it's hard to find places where you can do that anymore.]

[Which he acknowledges. He'd say he appreciates it if he was the sort of guy to do that, but he isn't. At least he doesn't feel like he should do it.]

Eh, it'll probably disappear to some remote nonexistant corner that no one has found because it's a million miles in any given direction.

Exist.

[It's too bad you lost your chance to escape, Ray, because now a certain windy brat is going to bother you.]

It's alright, having more people here was pretty exciting! But thanks for fixing it, too.

Is there a corner to this place? It certainly cannot be infinite, yet I don't think an edge has been found.

[He crosses his arms.]

I wish Jed'd pay me. It wouldn't make the job any less terrible, but I could blow the money on filling my tub with coffee and then spend the night lamenting my poor choices regarding money.

Well, you can blame Him for that part. As much as I disagree with Him on principle, He did create me.

[Oh no. Oh no. Look at the expression of disgust and horror and 'oh no' that spreads on his face that no icon this account possesses can properly express.

Something that makes him ill. And a child. Combined into one horrible, terrible monstrosity. Someone kill him now.

In fact this expression is so overwhelming he cannot even find words. This is worse than the time Sergei forced him to watch all three of his kids. Or was it four kids? There were too many people under 20 and it all became a horrible blur of a nightmare!

Sorry, John. He will be with you momentarily to be unpleasant.]

Sounds like they got you by the balls. [He's not going to lie, though, he likes that bathtub full of coffee idea because it probably rivals what he drinks every day.]

So they got one guy working on the mechanical multi-dimensional transcendent universal- [Vague motion around, whatever the Plane is.] -hotel lobby thing?

I'm not interested in blaming anyone. You just make me sick through existing. Go exist a few more feet away from me. These pills can dampen my senses some, but ugh. Like three more feet. That'll- that'll be a better distance threshold whatever.

Nonexistent corner. As in, does not exist. Pretty sure this place is infinite infinities infinitely.

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