[Fine time they're having here. Camille lets the gruel drip off the end of her spoon and plop back into the bowl. She looks across the refectory table to the only other soul in the building: a built blond boy with a model jawline and blond hair jutting out like tectonic aftermath, all sharp points and rigid shapes. He must pay a fortune on hair gel.]
I never used to mind oatmeal, but this is testing my limits.
[ the absolute tragedy that his hair is, unfortunately, all natural may push camille over the brink
he's not grabbing a ton of food and he does look uninterested in it, though after a beat where he is clearly taking a second to make sure he is being addressed (there is no one else here) he kind of shrugs ]
... I've had worse, but that says more about the rations than it does this slop.
I think it's to help break our spirits, probably. Or just practical economics. [She flips a lock of hair over her shoulder and puts her elbows on the table, mouth quirked in half a smile.] Give the prisoners the worst cuts and the leftovers. Pity — in some places sacrifices get primped and pampered before they're offed.
Dunno. Nothing about this place screams practical.
[ he is voting for breaking spirits. speaking of which: ]
Maybe their... whatever doesn't like its victims getting the special treatment. [ shrugs a shoulder ] Least it gave us a head start in expecting the worst.
[It is a stupid name, but she has a decent poker face. Her expression remains politely curious.]
'Fraid I am. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to hear you talk about rations, considering some of the stuff on your profile. [She smiles.] You've got quite a list of accomplishments to your name.
Don't know that I'd call all of 'em accomplishments... [ he's thinking about them and hating. it's fine. he shakes his head ] Military rations. They were pretty bad.
A dolphin. And it was more like he was giving me a boost.
[ he says it like it's a normal thing to say. anyway not me staring at my hand wondering if ff7 has a draft or college and going i dont want to think about this anymore, the answer is stupider: ]
More like to start a new life. Most guys from the country back home leave town to get a job in the city. Military's one of the options.
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WEEK 0: Monday
I never used to mind oatmeal, but this is testing my limits.
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he's not grabbing a ton of food and he does look uninterested in it, though after a beat where he is clearly taking a second to make sure he is being addressed (there is no one else here) he kind of shrugs ]
... I've had worse, but that says more about the rations than it does this slop.
no subject
I think it's to help break our spirits, probably. Or just practical economics. [She flips a lock of hair over her shoulder and puts her elbows on the table, mouth quirked in half a smile.] Give the prisoners the worst cuts and the leftovers. Pity — in some places sacrifices get primped and pampered before they're offed.
no subject
[ he is voting for breaking spirits. speaking of which: ]
Maybe their... whatever doesn't like its victims getting the special treatment. [ shrugs a shoulder ] Least it gave us a head start in expecting the worst.
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What's your name?
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Cloud. [ she can think this is a stupid name. she'd be right ] You're Camille, right?
[ rude. ]
no subject
'Fraid I am. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to hear you talk about rations, considering some of the stuff on your profile. [She smiles.] You've got quite a list of accomplishments to your name.
no subject
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Why were you in the military? Drafted? Needed money for college?
no subject
[ he says it like it's a normal thing to say. anyway not me staring at my hand wondering if ff7 has a draft or college and going i dont want to think about this anymore, the answer is stupider: ]
More like to start a new life. Most guys from the country back home leave town to get a job in the city. Military's one of the options.
[ please ask him how old he was ]