@junpei | text

[coolerjunpei]

[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]

Comments

[blattella]

[Turn That Frown Upside Down For Toast Time! Which he does, thankfully. Along with an automatic correction of:] Pan-fried super-buttery toast. Not even real toast. Just kind of crispy outside, if I don't screw this up. Probably different to fry soft bread and fry whatever meats and fats are all mushed in that can.

[Ough. That's a hell of a question, though. He's not going to answer in complete earnest, because saying something like 'people like me tend to scavenge in the ruins of dangerous science, because polite society refuses them and it's a bitch of a planet even for Non-Bug People'.

Just. Give him a second to think it over.]

Once I finish this job, I'll have to adjust to being without the perks. Like not dying! That's a hell of a thing to be accustomed to. Or-- not dying permanently, I guess. I've died plenty. It'll be getting sense back into me, you know?

[is




is that less depressing



and is he pulling a cigarette out whilst cooking UGH]

[coolerjunpei]

Oh yeah, my bad. Super-buttery, high-class pseudo-toast. For gentlemen.

[TM TM TM—

And that is really not less depressing, great talk! Junpei slumps a little lower on his elbows, like, dude... Dude......]

I dunno, I think just having the one shot at life is... okay? [Having the option to hit reset in any capacity sure does raise a long list of ethical considerations he's really sick of already, and it hasn't done anything particularly great for his mental health...!] Kinda wish I was done thinking about my own mortality, myself, but it's not like— Uh, are you gonna smoke that in here?

[homie!!!!!]

[blattella]

[He stops.

Looks at his hand.

Frowns for a moment, as if he's having to really think about why this would be weird. Blame the alternate timeline where he's a sous-chef smoking up a storm in the kitchen...Bad habits sometimes carry over! At least this Gregor sheepishly chuckles and puts the cigarette back in his vest pocket, though.]

...Sorry! Wasn't thinking. Wasn't really thinking when I started talking about dying over and over, too. Desensitisation. Let's skip the death talk altogether. You mind cutting up that spam for me, for one? Please, sorry. Manners.

[Finally, he takes a breath, flips the toast. A little burnt, but still more than edible! Good job, Gregor. It's fine. He's normal.] So. What's your favourite comfort food.

[coolerjunpei]

[Well, at least the only burnt taste their toast will get is from the pan and not cigarette smoke... little victories. Junpei hmms and picks himself up from his slouch, sidling around to grab the spam can and a knife. Time to schlorp this bad boy onto a paper plate, as god intended...]

Hey, you're the kitchen boss. [He is merely a mooch, which is fine. Schhhlorp... damn, nothing about spam is appetizing pre-cooked, huh.

Well, to cutting. Some of these pieces are going to be wildly different sizes because he wasn't sure how thick to cut them before settling on a mid-range put-on-toast thickness, so. Apologies to those funny pieces, sincerely.]

Uh—dunno. Does anything count? Like, what if I said it was chewing gum? Is gum technically a food? [it's not fucking gum] Never mind. Maybe garlic bread?

[blattella]

Gum absolutely doesn't count, but garlic bread? Top choice. Easy to make, if you're lucky enough to get good bread. Don't even need fancy butter, then; good loaf of bread'll take you a long way.

[Which-- once he's done sliding the fried bread onto another paper plate, he's just going to quickly give the rest of the bread a quick jab. MMMMMmmmm....Soft, fresh. It'll do.]

Maybe next time we can try that. Not that I know how long you'd cook it for in an oven, but it couldn't be hard to figure out, right? For now, pass us the meat! Here's where I'm really gonna shine, just you watch. Made grown men cry with this, I have. Taste of home!

--okay maybe that's. Rose-tinted glasses, that last part. But I think it tastes pretty damn good when I get it all crispy, so hopefully you don't pull a face like my coworkers did, hah.

[coolerjunpei]

That'll be my next desperate appeal to everybody online. "Hey, remember me, I thought we were all going to kill each other? Well this time, I need to know how long to preheat the oven for garlic bread..."

[That'll go over great, probably. He'll get made fun of the exact same amount, which is comforting, but in a ghoulish way.

Anyway, here are the meat slices, carefully passed one at a time as he finishes his slicing task. They're still uneven, but it's fried spam and not wagyu beef, so it'll do.]

I'm pretty hungry, and I haven't had a home-cooked meal in, uh... dunno, over a year? So I might cry, in that compliment-y way. Just don't make fun of me for sobbing over some toast and we're good.

[blattella]

Ha! If it's not gas or fire, isn't it alright to just turn it on and leave it?

...Okay, I don't know enough to say that sort of thing with such confidence. I should really shut up. [Meat: panned. The resulting sizzle is satisfying, like he's doing something right for once, and it's enough to buoy Gregor into humming a little as he nudges the spam slices apart.

Aw yea. Delicious Meat, friendly, no-stakes conversation. Homely. He could get used to this.]

As long as you're not throwing up while crying, I'll be pretty chuffed. Actually, you'll never get rid of me if you go being all mushy around me. I'm that guy who gets attached and thinks we're friends even if we're not, y'know? Dangerous, me.

[coolerjunpei]

[There is a certain level of homely going on here, Junpei would agree, even despite the continued casual self-deprecation. He's not going to point it out; he's probably been guilty of it plenty of times himself, and he wouldn't want someone to point it out... It's fine.

The food smells good, though. Superb distraction from this whole weird place.]

You're already in "my place"- [he does the fingerquotes,] -making food, man. I already decided we were friends ten minutes ago.

[If it gets him free food... Just kidding, one need merely show Junpei an iota of decency in a Kidnapping Situation and he'll imprint instantly. But that's a little mushy and a little strange, so. Free toast-!!]

That cool?

[blattella]

Aw geez, same sort of guy. Now we're in for it.

[Even if Junpei had put it in a decidedly Normal Fashion, Gregor's still going to look very pleased with himself as he flips spam, chuffing happily away like a steam train (minus the typical steam, thankfully).]

What I mean is, yeah. That's cool. Who's going to complain about having a friend in this place, or at all? Guess that means that, if you're ever in a sore spot somehow while we're here, just give me a whistle. I'm pretty good at fixing problems that can be solved with sharp implements, if it's for a pal.

[coolerjunpei]

[Ah - well, when making new friends, it's always important to establish who's ready to start stabbing. Not that Junpei wouldn't go to bat, optionally with a bat, for his friends, but he's kind of a stringbean and it's not his forte. He scoffs, anyway, amused.]

Sure, I'll keep you on speed dial. You ever need someone to solve your way out of a locked room without the keys, let me know. [......,] I've kinda got a weirdly specific skillset.

[But at the same time: isn't this whole city kind of one big escape room? He's convinced of it! He'll come in handy!

He leans over just so to watch the pan, ooh sizzly,] It smells good.

[blattella]

Ohhh, nice. That always seemed like real fiddly work, even with two hands, so I'll definitely keep you in mind. Guessing you already tried a few locked doors here, to see what's the deal?

[Hey, he's not judging anyone's skillset, especially if it's one he lacks. ...And especially if it might've come from someone who expects everyone currently here to just. Start killing each other.

There's gotta be a reason, right? So yeah. No judgment. Only spam. With a nice crust on one side, by now. Another flip, because the other side isn't quite as nicely cooked, before he shoots Junpei a sidelong look and a tiny smile.] Man, anything smells good in a pan, long as it's not burnt to absolute charcoal. Here-- [And he jams the spatula into a nice, crusty, crispy edge, cutting off a piece. Nudges it around the pan so the soft edge crisps up, then flicks it back onto the spatula for Junpei.

As a treat.]

[coolerjunpei]

Oh yeah, all over. I never actually learned to pick a lock, but I'm real good at the, uh, fiddly work. Loads of practice. None of the locked doors around here are giving up the goods yet.

[But here's to hoping. What he would give for even a crumb of indication that there is, indeed, a reason behind this whole place and their presence in it. A list of rules. A crackly voice-changer speaker. Anything. At least then there would be a place to start.

In the spirit of not getting too in his head about it, though: ooh, a sample? A treat, for him? 👉👈 He raises an eyebrow-]

Well, now I feel like a little kid begging for dinner early... [but he's still going to take this little piece and "ow ow hot" at it for a second before he pops it in his mouth. chew....] Hey, it's good!