randomizing | [ Opening Mingle ]

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[ Opening Mingle ]

[Everyone will wake up suddenly, as if having drifted off -- while sitting upright in an uncomfortable office chair. In one hand they're holding the communicator, and in their lap is propped a clipboard with a job application (standard, looking something like this; it requests up to ten years of job history, ) and a pen. The waiting room is also fairly standard, except for being empty.]

[The communicator's lock screen reads, Complete the job application. Time limit, twenty-four hours.]

[There are magazines, fake plants, and computers. There's a staff lounge with food -- tupperware that might have belonged to some of these nonexistent workers, popcorn and cocoa packets, vending machines -- and restrooms. There are exits, but characters will be unable to use them... or make their own, or escape in any way.]

[So the characters are stuck here, until tomorrow morning. Set up a comment telling everyone what your character is doing, and thinking, whether they're obeying the task or not, at any time during the day. Then tag other people! Be sure to check back later in the week, when people are encouraged make threads for the evening as well as the day! Characters that have been claimed are also welcome at this point to join the community, and will be able to make their own posts, which can be tagged by anyone taking part in the event.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jian gui!! [Is Simon's totally natural initial response to waking up in a strange environment. Recent events have taught him to be more than a bit paranoid.] This is very... [Bad? It doesn't look like an Alliance prison, or a Reaver ship, or even the sort of rustic village that he can never manage to go to without getting shot at and/or kidnapped. It looks like...]

Very...

[Well, honestly it looks like home. Some boring office building on the core0.] Very mundane. [With a puzzled look, he turns to look at his application.]

[His mind immediately latches onto the paperwork, grateful for a symbol of organization and order.] This is a... job application? [What's going on? Had his parents been right?]

[Maybe there was no Serenity, no getting chased by feds across the galaxy. Maybe he'd gone and seen River and she'd been totally normal -- for River, anyway -- but the stress of his job had been too much. Hallucinations. Maybe that was the most logical explanation. Otherwise, he'd... what? Been captured by the Alliance and subjected to some new kind of boredom torture?]

[If this is real, his sitting in this place must mean he's lost his job with the hospital. If not... well, who knows what. Either way, it may be prudent to wait to write down all his personal information. ] Uh, excuse me! [He puts a hand up in the air for attention.] Is there anyone here who can assist me?

Can, yes. Will, no. [ walkin' on ]

Yes, that was exceedingly helpful thank you very much.

Well, maybe next time you'll be more specific. [ the cheekiest, turning on his heel to face Simon ] How am I supposed to gauge whether what you need assistance with is anything I'd want to do? I'm definitely not going to help you fill out your application, for example. If you've got chemical burns, I don't have a first aid kit on me but I'd probably still feel obligated to try.

Chemical burns? [Oh hey look, magic words. Suddenly Simon is a little more comfortable, his thoughts and speech a bit clearer.] Then is this a hospital?

I don't have a kit either, but I'm a surgeon.

[ smooth ] Sure, why not. [ it looks like a hospital waiting room as much as anything else. ]

And that's great, because I'm really not that kind of doctor. [ cheerful ] First or second in your class, by any chance?

Not quite, but close. I was in the top three percent of -- hold on a minute. [Simon shuts his eyes for a second, holding both arms up in a crossed 'time out' pattern.] As you so helpfully pointed out, I can do my resume myself. Unless this is your hospital. And that can't be right.

[Can't it? Not much else about what's going on makes sense, but Simon's never known hospital senior staff to answer 'why not' when asked about their own facilities. He'll just hang onto the idea that this is a normal conversation as long as he can.]

[And hope that he can try to get a location out of Tony somehow, since coming out and asking 'what planet are we on?' strikes him as the wrong thing to be done right now.]

No. Not yet, anyway. I could always try buying it, but I don't see any of the owners around. [ he looks left, then right ] Plus, my offering money might be a little more consensual than they like to make their business transactions.

[Simon raises one of his arms again as though somehow he can wave all the confusion out of the air. This man is talking nonsense. But he seems to be very confident about it. That's... kind of... reassuring.] I'm sorry, who are you again? [Not that he was ever told in the first place...]

[ all the nonsense! ]

Tony Stark. Professional eccentric, part-time superhero, nice to meet you.

Superhero. [Simon sounds extremely skeptical about that idea.] Of course.

I'm Simon Tam. You already know I'm a surgeon. ['Eccentric' is not a profession dude. He is judging you hardcore.]

Well. That's the classical term. I have a costume. I fight crime. [ helpless little shrug ]

I think I remember you mentioning something like that in the last ten seconds or so, sure.

Without warrants? [That sounds shady. A lot less shady than 'System's Most Wanted' but still.]

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I'm not sure if I have any better idea what's happening here than you, but... [he is habitually compelled to do good deeds, so this exceptionally weird-looking, scarred, white haired, monster-armed kid dressed like a Dickens novel is hovering nearby uncertainly]

Maybe we are at a hospital after all. [Rude, Simon. As is the staring, though it's of a very clinical nature. That arm is a medical anomaly if he's ever seen one.]

[Maybe the simplest explanation for what's happening is that he's still hallucinating. That might be right.] I think what's happening is I'm having some sort of a mental breakdown, or a dissociative episode. Maybe just too much to drink.

What do you think? [He tilts his head at Allen in an implied 'are you real?']

[ehe, well] Aside from the fact that it would be my mental breakdown, or -- that other thing you said, it seems distressingly likely.

[but Allen does know that he feels all right at the moment, against all the odds]

I can't imagine what would reassure you, but it's just as disorienting for everyone else, at least. I haven't seen anyone here who actually seems to belong here and understand what's happening.

[Simon's quiet for a second, frown on his face.] That's the exact opposite of reassuring. [He sighs.] This is the strangest prison I've ever been in.

Sorry. [he scratches his jaw with gloved fingers, still sheepish]

You think it might be a... a prison? Why? [it doesn't look like any prison Allen's ever been in! but that's not a reassuring comment either, right?]

I doubt there's anything you can do. So there's very little to be sorry for. [He does appreciate hearing it, nonetheless]

[And now it's time for clever antics, because he's reluctant to admit his Most Wanted status.]

Why do you think it... wouldn't be a prison? [Okay so deception is not his strong suit.]

[you're like a deception ninja] [but Allen doesn't judge] Well, as far as I know, I wasn't headed for one. And it seems a little unguarded for a prison, don't you think? Why just -- leave us in a building with a lot of fragile machinery and no idea why we're here? I'd think if we were being arrested, they'd want to make sure we knew it, and why.

I know why. There's really only one possible reason.

[Way to go Simon. That didn't sound sketchy at all.]

[And now his attention goes back to Allen's arm.]

I'm sorry, but I have a question and no idea how to make it not sound rude. If there is one. Which is unlikely.

[suddenly, a topic change. he blinks, and then smiles sheepishly] Go right ahead. I'm sure I've heard worse.

That arm... well, [He supposes he'll just charge on ahead with the questions.] How did it happen?

To be perfectly honest, I was born with it -- more or less like this. [he shifts, flexing the fingers] I couldn't move it at all until I was ten, so it was quite a bit of trouble for me. But, thankfully, it didn't stay that way. [smiling]

A genetic mutation? Not something anyone installed? [Yeah, he's started prying. Might as well go all out.]