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@junpei | text

[Now, Junpei is fairly certain they're all here for some kind of fucked up death game, because why wouldn't the third time be the charm!!— but until some mysterious costumed weirdo starts getting on all the screens and making announcements, there's not that much to go on. He can skulk around town glowering suspiciously at things for long so long.

Sooooo.]

if anybody wants my vote, it's t minus however the hell long before we all start killing each other. would love to be wrong, but if i live long enough to say i told you so, yknow. yippee.

so.

why do *you* think we're here? wrong answers only. top 3 by popular vote get a prize.

[Does he have a prize to hand out... No, no he does not. He will find some cheap garbage in one of the shops and write a 1ST/2ND/3RD PLACE on it, no problem. Eventually. Maybe even a sticker.]

and what do you guys think about picking code names? you know, just in case.

[big talk from username junpei]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What if I'm a mix? Kidding, kidding. Probably most effective to think of me as one of those volcanos that parents make with their kids out of papier-mâché, baking soda, and vinegar. Too much stimulation and I end up causing a nasty scene. Not because I want to.

Anyway I got you down on drums. I'll play the keyboard. I can do that one-handed, right? Probably. Used to play piano decades ago, when I had two hands. Now we just need vocals and bass and guitar or something.

yeah, my science fair volcanos never worked. but huh, okay. uh, you got any other baking soda besides crowds? i'm not trying to science-fair-blue-ribbon anybody...

[He'd feel bad, first of all...]

i've got a friend who can play the harp 1-handed so i think you're good. maybe if we suck badly enough they'll kick us out and we'll get to go home.

Just any big emotions, really. Probably even happiness, not that that's ever happened. Surprise is an easy one though. And you'd be late to getting that blue ribbon anyway! Hahaha.

[Science made him, and by god Science claimed its victory in him.]

Good stuff, good stuff. Got all my fingers still.

That is the most Old Man thing I've ever read. Go to a music festival, perform, hope to get sent home again. I like your style, username Junpei.

[This is like the fifth time today Junpei has looked off at the imaginary reality TV camera and decided, you know what, his problems are so ordinary, he's actually just fine. Jesus, guys.]

damn, so no surprise afterparty for the festival? that's a shame. got it, though. nothing crazier than a crisp high-five.

and what's Old Man about it? i like going home. where else am i going to keep a lifetime supply of those little butterscotch candies and my bolo tie collection?

[There is no normal when you're Gregor Samsa, only Unsettling Dreams. Sorry, Junpei.]

Just wait until I'm gone home myself, and then throw the party! You could even drink, then. That'd be a real blast. But I can probably accept a little friendly elbowing, a masculine one-armed hug, that sort of stuff. My tolerance is way up from a decade or so ago, that's for sure.

You got slippers and a recliner to get into once you've had your butterscotch candy for the night? A freshly printed newspaper that's probably blank? That's the stuff of dreams, don't you think? Normal. Reserved. Boring as anything. I'd love that.

can't be an old man and go home early and still have my party. i'll send you a congrats card with a picture of a masculine hug, how about that?

uh, or i'll slide it under your door, because i don't think we have a working post office around here.

you have no idea how much i'd love to be boring. guess there's nothing stopping us from getting slippers and a recliner now, you know, uh, commercially. because we can just steal them. but the illusion's pretty flimsy.

Have the party at 5pm, go to an empty restaurant for the early bird special, go home at 7. Done. But that card sounds good, so I'll take that, Postman Junpei. Hahahaha!

You're compelled to figure this all out instead of being boring, huh? Not gonna lie, I'd rather stick my head in the sand and just enjoy furniture and food, but I get the feeling that's not gonna cut it for long anyway.

But if you want a recliner, I'll help you move it. Just say the word. I'm pretty strong for an old man.

[he is 35 he is 35 years old why is this]

good idea. keep an eye out for the card.

[Which he might really go find in a store and write a congrats on himself, if it seems funny enough... and if he figures out how to deliver it. Commitment to the bit is huge, of course.]

and yeah, unfortunately. a witch cursed me and now i have to give a shit about other people.

(there wasn't really a witch. don't know if i have to say that.)

i've been through something like this before, but we had more direction by now both of those times. i dunno. maybe furniture'll really get things started. you wanna go look for chairs?

Are you really going to hunt me down just to finish the bit, even though I haven't given out the address I'm currently hunkered down in? Damn, the dedication.

Think I met the same witch, though. It's a right pain in the side, but so it goes. Can't turn away from something you can change.

You got a furniture store in mind

wait we can just grab one from an apartment. I forgot that's even an option, let alone the best option. That'll definitely seem like more of a crime than just taking food and water. You got preferences in colour for this new chair?

yeah, i'll go door to door. what else am i going to do with my free time? must be a side effect of the witch.

taking stuff from one apartment to another's the laziest crime ever. lucky, or that early bird special at the ghost restaurants would be over by the time we get the chair from a store.

and uh, blue i guess. the good recliners are the ones with the big handle, too. none of that automatic crap.

We really have to look at getting you into an anti-curse doctor or something, whatever that'd be called.

But sure, I'll make a record of which apartment we get it from, just in case whoever was originally there comes back and gets really mad about that rude cow a few doors down having their customised blue recliner with the janky handle. At least you can trust it if the power blows, if it's not powered. Imagine being stuck in an electric recliner in a power outage.

Or dying because you try to climb out and it falls on you. No way, I'm not letting my new buddy die like that!

like an exorcist? i dunno, when people start yelling at me about demons, i start to tune out.

and hah, thanks. you know, i've sat in chairs before. i'm pretty good at it. help me get a second chair, janky recliner function optional, and i can even have company over.

Yeah, I guess it WOULD be an exorcist, wouldn't it.

Okay, maybe just keep the curse of empathy or whatever the proper word is. I don't think that's really a scene I want to cause.

Look at you, professional Chair Sitter. You're about to make me jealous of your ultimate old man skills. I thought I was doing alright, since I ride a bus all day every day, but you're so good at sitting you want two recliners........damn. Damn. Teach me the secrets.

i guess the empathy curse isn't so bad, except for all the times it is. my givingashititus and me know the score.

the first step is to have fun and be yourself, probably. dunno. you can hang out in my creepy stolen apartment in the other chair if you want tips.

[friendship... is sitting in a room at the same time.]

you really ride the bus that much?

Not the givingadamnitus racking up a high score on times it's gotten you in strife! You sure you're not prepared to hear some guy yell at you about demons, just to be free?

If the chair's good enough, you might have to put up with me being a roomie. Just a permanent fixture. Promise I'll be quiet, and I don't eat much at all.

I kind of work and live on the bus, though. So prime seating's important to me! It's the only comfort I get, since accommodation's barebones.

[That's his fault, though. Perhaps get therapy, Gregor, and your room would stop manifesting as a jail cell littered with used weapons!!]

call me a pessimist, but i just don't think it'll work. i get yelled at plenty already.

dude, seriously? is it even a nice bus? hell, you can hole up with me just so you don't have to crawl into a newer, shittier bus somewhere in this place. that's pretty grim.

[He's phrasing this like a bit, but also like, homie?? Get a real chair in a room with additional furniture, it's worth it.]

my signature dish is cup noodles and plain toast, though. i'm not much of a roomie.

Let no one say we didn't fight for the cure to your ills!

It's an alright bus, I guess? It's a bus, and we have to feed it

that's probably more than I should say, so I'm not going to tell you what or why in case I get in trouble. But a normal bus would be a nice change, I'll say that much. Real furniture? Even better. Toast and noodles? The best.

Buuuuuuuuuut I can only cook tinned food, really. Spam, rice, fried eggs. Stuff out of rations. So I get the feeling we're more just on par here, no judgment.

yeah, you helped, thanks.

["we have to feed it"

...."we have to feed it"????]

don't tell me any secrets about your vore bus, i'm good. i believe you. i promise i've never lived in a place that had to be fed, unless that's what really happened to whoever used to live in these apartments? uh, i hope not.

i would kill (figuratively) for some good eggs right now. if we team up we can put eggs on toast.

I don't want to be fed to the bed. I think I'll skip that part of living here.

You need fresh bread? I'm getting pretty good at food runs these days. I could bring over some eggs, bread, spam. Pan fried spam I'm good at. Get it nice and crispy.

[Minorly burnt, he means; can't trust a roach palate with SHIT.]

i promise not to feed you to furniture. scout's honor. i'll pinky swear if i have to.

and uh, yeah, if you're not busy.

[What is anyone busy with, whatever--]

i've got... a pan. bring whatever you need, 'cause the rest of my stock is noodles and convenience store candy. i'm in the same building as the laundromat, upstairs. 5th floor.

Then I'll be on my way, all stocked up. Call me Gregor's Delivery Service or something.

By the way, I'll be the short guy with glasses and a funny arm. You'll understand when you see me. See you in a few.

[An hour, more like. Both because he's taking absolute care to look for the finest in bread, eggs, AND spam, and because he forgot where the laundromat was...Mostly because he's wearing the same clothes he arrived in, bless this mess. The length of this particular trip probably shows in the way Gregor's cigarette, currently hanging between his lips unlit, looks bent and near-torn in two. He's Been Through it scrounging, okay!!]

Yoohoo, room service.

i'll get out the fine china. see you soon.

[Or rather he will get out some paper plates, put them on the counter in the tiny kitchen, and stare at them for a while, Normally. He's chosen this fifth floor apartment for himself mostly at random, but he still doesn't really like to... touch anything in it; it feels weird to open the cabinets, so while Gregor is off scrounging, Junpei is having his latest in a series of paper plate mind sprials.

It's cool, it's fine. Eggs and toast are something to look forward to; he takes up loitering just outside in the hallway, since he'd only said fifth floor, so that's where he is when room service arrives looking like he's had better days.

Lucky: Junpei is also short. Unlucky: he definitely stares at The Arm for a beat too long, but you know what, he knows a kid whose head comes right off, so sure, why not.]

Hey. I'm ready for some culinary delights. C'mon in.

[Oh same, the drawers and closets are pristine in Gregor's own stolen apartment, though he maaaay have gone through the bathroom cupboards looking for clean towels. And soap. And a razor-- anyway. The look at his arm is-- normal, expected, still subdued, so he just grins a little more forcefully and slips on in with his stash.]

Thanks for having me, bud. I really can't actually promise the best eggs ever or anything, since apparently I'm a worse cook than I thought, but I'll still do my best. Haven't ever completely burnt one to be inedible, at least?

...You are going to have to help me, though. If that's alright. Don't think you'd want to eat stuff I cut with the arm! Heh, ah, hah...

[please laugh god please laugh

He's going to just carefully place all of his haul delicately on Junpei's kitchen counter in the meanwhile, fresh bread last and most tenderly handled of all. Can't squish bread and expect it to be any good.]

[Besides the fact that the couch in the main room of this apartment is sufficiently rumpled enough to have obviously been slept on a few times, Junpei's stolen apartment is how he found it. It lacks the serviceable chairs, of course, but there's a coffee table? The tiny kitchen is good enough. It's an apartment, for sure.

Junpei will fetch The Pan in the meantime, which luckily lives on top of the stove and not in any cabinets, or they'd be out of luck. He leans his elbows on the counter and watches all the stuff get placed down, and oh, arm jokes--

Cool, he was not really sure if he was supposed to acknowledge it, but if there are jokes...]

Sure, I think I can manage eggs. You're going out on a limb for me here, so...

[Okay, it's out of his system!! Now he does laugh, a sort of sorry-you-had-to-hear-a-pun noise. Ahem.]

Sorry— I'm done, I swear. Uh, what do you need me to do?

No no, if you got more, let 'em out now. That way I can sulk in private later, hah.

[Only 1/4 a joke. Okay, maybe half, because at least it's not open hostility, so that's! A Bonus! And it's certainly enough for Gregor to keep his smile in place for a few seconds longer than he might otherwise, even as he finagles the tip of the claw under the pull tab of the spam can.

Hm...What can he delegate, so that he doesn't have to bear the burden of nosing through cabinets in someone else's someone else flat...]

...You got knives? Salt and pepper? Plates? I'll get to work on the eggs once I get this open, but we still gotta cut this spam. Even if you don't like it, I'm going to eat it. Comfort food and all. And an egg flipper. That'd be great, if you got one! Or else we're kind of screwed, big time.

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