Week 2.

[trustmods]

WEEK 2 Two people are dead. Ken Kaneki has been murdered, Reaver has been executed - and perhaps most uncomfortably, the Conductor is proud of you all for adhering to due process. (As always, by which he means that there is a process, and you all are certainly doing it.) Saturday is given to regrouping and sleep; come Sunday morning, the clock chimes the hour at seven o'clock and there are no dead bodies to be found, so it can be assumed that all of you are safe for the time being. That said, you'll be feeling a little groggy when you wake up; it seems you've regained something that you didn't realize you'd lost... However, once you've shaken that off, there are new things to be looked at; the previously closed-off area near the kitchen has been unlocked, and there's a new floor to be explored - consider it your reward for a job well done. PARTICIPANTS REMAINING: 27

SUNDAY | MONDAY | TUESDAY | WEDNESDAY | THURSDAY

[OOC: Welcome to week two of Trustfell! Save your threads for coins and the coming week's activity check; don't forget to check in to this week's activity check and submit your memory regains as well!

The Letters and Switchboard posts are still active, for the sake of contacting the jerk who's keeping you here, to be used at your leisure!]

Comments

[mortyfied]

[He decides to finish the mouthful first, before speaking up again.]

I dunno, Rick. I don't think the Conductor'd be very happy if we - i-if we did that.

And.. probably everyone else, too.

[rickdiculous]

Well, I got nothing then. Guess I'm gonna have to eat all these pretzels. Just all of them. Scarfing that shit down.

[He starts! There's a pretzel in his hands now, mustardless, but still enjoyable.]

[mortyfied]

Oooor we could eat our fill and leave the rest for who wants them? [He's smiling though, kind of amused at the idea of Rick trying to eat all of them.]

M-maybe I can ask for a mini-fridge? Y'think the Conductor'd be okay with something like that? [Aaand going back to munching his pretzel again.]

[rickdiculous]

You don't just...do a thing then go "oh, hey, guys! here is the thing i did! KILL IT!" This isn't the school bake sale, Morty, w-we've gotta stash this.

...Yeah. Go ask him for a minifridge.

[mortyfied]

[There's a pause, and he looks from Rick to his pretzel.]


...can I finish my pretzel first?

[rickdiculous]

Shit, man. F-finish five pretzels before you do. I-I'm gonna shove this shit under my bed anyway.

[mortyfied]

Ew, Rick. That's - that's disgusting. [Unless like. They're gonna be in tupperware or something.]

[rickdiculous]

They're gonna be wrapped, Morty. I-I'm not a fucking animal. That makes it a little better. [Not really.]

[mortyfied]

But why under your bed I mean, p-put them on a shelf or in a drawer or something. [At.. least they're wrapped though.]

[rickdiculous]

I-if people come in my room searching for food, they're gonna look in the shelves and drawers.

[mortyfied]

W-why would they come into your room and look for food? Isn't there - I mean, there's better people to look for food for - f-from. [Getting another pretzel.]

[rickdiculous]

You said it yourself, Morty. These - these people, they don't like me. They're gonna steal all of my pretzels, Morty - just, all of them. Gone.

[mortyfied]

They wouldn't steal your pretzels if you were a little nicer to everybody, y'know? They're not as bad as you think they are, Rick.

[rickdiculous]

They're pretzel-stealing assholes, Morty. I don't want nothin' to do with it.

[mortyfied]

Th-they haven't even stolen any yet! [You can't paint someone a pretzel stealing asshole if they haven't stolen any]

[rickdiculous]

Don't put it past them. Those guys. They'll do aaaaannnnyythiiingggg for your Grandpa Rick's pretzels. Now come on. Come on, Morty. You gotta help me stash 'em. [He says as he starts shoving the pretzels into some of these shitty bags pretty explicitly meant for coldcuts.]

[mortyfied]

[He rolls his eyes and shoves the pretzel he was finishing off in his mouth, so he can use his hands to help shove pretzels in shitty sandwich bags for god knows what reason.]

[rickdiculous]

[For the reason of people are terrible, Morty. For that reason.]

[mortyfied]

[If only you could stand having a single Feeling for someone other than Morty, Rick. If only...


Anyway, after some time passes and Morty's finished off his pretzel somehow, while he was shoving his sixth or seventh one into a bag, Morty decides to speak up about something he's been curious about since day one.]

...h-hey, Rick? What does "tempered" mean? I-I mean, by itself. I know what being "good tempered" and "bad tempered" is, b-but it doesn't really make sense on it's own.

because i felt bad about this not getting finished

[rickdiculous]

I-it means help me finish stuffing these pretzels into bags, Morty! I-I can't eat these pretzels if...if they're not stored properly.

[...he says this with a mouthful of pretzel there is chewed-up pretzel flying everywhere]

pshh dont worry about it

[mortyfied]

I'm stuffing like crazy, Rick! [Also gross, don't spray your food everywhere gramps!]

Why did we even make so many of them? It's not like we're ever gonna run out of food or anything.

[rickdiculous]

Grandpa wants to have real food that he knows isn't gonna be fucking poisoned or - or taken away by the dickwad or something. You got-gotta look at the logic here.

[mortyfied]

[He sighs, a very big sigh, and rolls his eyes.]

O-okay, whatever. When you're right, you're right. [Is that a hint of sarcasm?]

[rickdiculous]

Of course I am. I'm Rick. [It's not registering.]

[mortyfied]

[Well good, 'cause that means Morty isn't gonna get his ass kicked for being a smart ass.]

Yeah, you sure are. R-Rick Sanchez, local - local "everything-I-say-is-right-and-everyone-else-is-wrong"-est. [That's.. that's a terrible term...title...thing, Morty.]