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

[spam]

[rickitikitarr]

No.

[Still reeling back, or doing the equivalent thereof, which is to take slow, measured steps towards the door.

The thing about Ricki is that on a profound level, day to day, he is not all right, so it doesn't take much to put him over the edge. Whatever just happened inside his mind is more than doing the trick. He moves like a cat, gets his hand on the knob without needing to take his eyes off her. There are questions he should ask, but he can't quite put any of them together just now.]

[spam]

[routemistress]

All right, lovey. Maybe another time.

[This is hardly the first time Iris has felt bad after giving in to a fleeting impulse; nor will it be the last. Her dogs follow Ricki obediently, and don't make any playful attempts to trip him.

She always thinks it's best to get the culture shock out of the way quickly; but Iris forgets how much this sort of reaction can hurt her.]

[spam]

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki walks them quickly, discomfited, just giving them enough of a stretch and a break for now, before trotting them back home.

He slips the door open and sends them through with a nod, a quick;]

They're back.