4. voice

[rickitikitarr]

All right, this is all good fun and games, kids, but I'm going to be the one who spoils it by asking the question.

What the hell is going on?

And, for that matter, if we're the ones apparently running the show now, is anyone steering the boat?

[Ricki does not want the barge to smash into a sun and everyone to burn up, even though he's currently in the inmate-reclaimed bar and part of him is rather enjoying the fiddling.]

Comments

Re: Spam

[formerself]

[And Eggsy would have gone trotting along after him, because apparently getting rapidly invested in spies who cut their teeth during the Cold War is just His Thing. Not that he's genuinely conscious of that, and it's an oversight he's going to pay for one of these days, no doubt.

He gets up to his feet, bending backwards until he feels something pop. That's better.]

Wanna use my shower?

[Because while he spent months having precisely fuck-all privacy re. personal hygiene, it wasn't his choice and he wouldn't wish it on anybody.]

Spam

[rickitikitarr]

I knew you were worth being friends with. I can't relax in prison showers.

[Eagerly scrambling to his feet.]

Nasty spot to get cornered, after all.

[Reminds him of far too much, besides.]

Spam

[formerself]

[Eggsy just pulls an extremely meaningful nah bruv sort of face, because his understanding of what goes on in prison showers is more informed by pop culture than it is by the experience of a handful of mates who have actually served a bit of time. At least on the Barge it's individual cubicles in there, or so he remembers from briefly sticking his head in.]

I'm down on Eight. C'mon.

[He leads Ricki downstairs to his front door - still a bit scarred from the April clusterfuck - and then through into his home. It is, and looks like, a fairly shitty council flat. The place is littered with boxed TVs and kettles and microwaves - standard 'fell of the back of a lorry' shit for flogging down the pub, he really just needs to get rid of them - and the bathroom door to the right has been patched up with a sheet board since his mum hacked a hole in it with a meat cleaver. Otherwise it looks a lot tidier than it was when he wasn't the only one living here.]

Shower's through that way. [He nods at the door.] There's towels in there, use whatever you want, yeah?

Re: Spam

[rickitikitarr]

Do any of these pick up a signal?

[Ricki can't help but ask; what must space-tv rays be like? The bathroom door makes him raise his eyebrows just a little bit more, and yes, this is the second weirdest warden's quarters he's been in, after Iris's bordello in pink leopard.

He traces a thumb over the patch, and makes a mental note to see if he can find something to fix that up for him, before glancing back over his shoulder at him and giving him an eloquent nod in return, of the 'this means a lot but we're not going to talk about it' variety.]

Spam & wrap here?

[formerself]

Nah, nothin'.

[He returns the nod. Gentleman's accord, mate. They'll never speak of it.]