[Yes, this is fucking scary as hell. Yes, she hates it. There's a lot of messed up stuff that's gone down in her life. A lot. And now she's here in shiny Blade Runner world and she'd rather not. But she sure as hell isn't gonna let it get her down. Find a way out. A key. A doorway. Something. The whole concept of "ending up in a new world" is old for her. What's annoying above all else is that she's in a new world without her hair.
Yes.
Her hair.
It's exhausting.
She's walking out of the communal bathroom, slowly tucking a few hairs behind her ears. It's not great, but she's cut it further, styled it. It'll ... have to do.
But she's distracted, and soon enough, she's reaching out to push someone away—
—only to get a gross insight into their feelings. Which means they've gotten hers, too.
(Scared. Uncomfortable. Irritated.)]
Ugh ... gross. Get away from me. Right now.
[Look. Margo doesn't try to be pleasant. She just tries to be ... who she is, and who she is is someone who's really grossed out by the whole feelings contamination bullshit.]
b. the fight club
[Ah, this is more her speed. Not the fighting. No, that's really not her style. She'll pass on the testosterone-filled need to just throw one's self in front of someone else's fist. It's not fun to do it. No, what's her style is ... watching. Okay, gross voyeur stuff aside, these men and women strip down to the bare essentials and look buff as hell while they do it. Hot. Sweaty. Honestly, Brad Pitt in Fight Club barely matches up to what's going on.]
Hmmm, we really ought to be rating them.
[Where is she sitting? The bar. What is she not doing? Investigating.]
What're you having? I could use some company.
[Margo offers a quick smile, and waves a hand to call the bartender over to take whoever's beside her's order.]
c. network business
@margo.hanson
Would you believe that they wouldn't let me go by king.margo? As if someone wouldn't name their kid king by 2511. Queen B was already knocking those names out by 2017. Not to mention MJ long before.
Regardless of their limited view of ... a lot of things, I have a question and a request.
First—where are the best places to get fucked up around here? I know a whole lot of you are happy to play Sherlock Holmes here, but I'm not. I'd like to have a solid two weeks of not giving a fuck before I have to come back down. And since you're all do-gooders, don't pretend that I actually want to hear about how drugs aren't good for me. Again, it's 2511. I'm sure they've got something cooked up that barely messes with what's all up in here.
And second—I know people are really into lasik here, but I've got a unique problem with my eye. I'm not gonna get some creepy robo eye, so please tell me people still wear contacts. Even just to look cool temporarily. Which, by the way, no one ever looks good with those weird ass cosplay contacts, but whatever. You do you.
d. wildcard
[Margo is ... a lot ... so I'm down for whatever. She's used to "whatever."]
margo (the magicians)
[Yes, this is fucking scary as hell. Yes, she hates it. There's a lot of messed up stuff that's gone down in her life. A lot. And now she's here in shiny Blade Runner world and she'd rather not. But she sure as hell isn't gonna let it get her down. Find a way out. A key. A doorway. Something. The whole concept of "ending up in a new world" is old for her. What's annoying above all else is that she's in a new world without her hair.
Yes.
Her hair.
It's exhausting.
She's walking out of the communal bathroom, slowly tucking a few hairs behind her ears. It's not great, but she's cut it further, styled it. It'll ... have to do.
But she's distracted, and soon enough, she's reaching out to push someone away—
—only to get a gross insight into their feelings. Which means they've gotten hers, too.
(Scared. Uncomfortable. Irritated.)]
Ugh ... gross. Get away from me. Right now.
[Look. Margo doesn't try to be pleasant. She just tries to be ... who she is, and who she is is someone who's really grossed out by the whole feelings contamination bullshit.]
b. the fight club
[Ah, this is more her speed. Not the fighting. No, that's really not her style. She'll pass on the testosterone-filled need to just throw one's self in front of someone else's fist. It's not fun to do it. No, what's her style is ... watching. Okay, gross voyeur stuff aside, these men and women strip down to the bare essentials and look buff as hell while they do it. Hot. Sweaty. Honestly, Brad Pitt in Fight Club barely matches up to what's going on.]
Hmmm, we really ought to be rating them.
[Where is she sitting? The bar. What is she not doing? Investigating.]
What're you having? I could use some company.
[Margo offers a quick smile, and waves a hand to call the bartender over to take whoever's beside her's order.]
c. network business
@margo.hanson
Would you believe that they wouldn't let me go by king.margo? As if someone wouldn't name their kid king by 2511. Queen B was already knocking those names out by 2017. Not to mention MJ long before.
Regardless of their limited view of ... a lot of things, I have a question and a request.
First—where are the best places to get fucked up around here? I know a whole lot of you are happy to play Sherlock Holmes here, but I'm not. I'd like to have a solid two weeks of not giving a fuck before I have to come back down. And since you're all do-gooders, don't pretend that I actually want to hear about how drugs aren't good for me. Again, it's 2511. I'm sure they've got something cooked up that barely messes with what's all up in here.
And second—I know people are really into lasik here, but I've got a unique problem with my eye. I'm not gonna get some creepy robo eye, so please tell me people still wear contacts. Even just to look cool temporarily. Which, by the way, no one ever looks good with those weird ass cosplay contacts, but whatever. You do you.
d. wildcard
[Margo is ... a lot ... so I'm down for whatever. She's used to "whatever."]