voice;

[amoray]

[he doesn't start speaking right as the feed starts! there's a solid second or two of eridan trying to find his train of thought, the occasional heavy, expectant breath or two the only signs of his false starts.]

Well, Mexico was a shipload a fun. Don't know about anybody else's impromptu as fuck abscondin'.

Not my point of makin' this point though, so listen up, landlubbers.

[there is a decided lack of flair in eridan's voice, despite the (sharp, direct) pun/nautical reference or two. he's purposeful.]

They say they're cuttin' me loose soon, probably on account a my bein' such a charminly well-behawed prisoner and all. Due to personal circumstances, I'll be needin' to get a few affairs in order before my date a release.

I need a place to liwe, a tutor for the upcomin' schoolfeedin' year, and hopefully enough, some manner a profession. If you're willin' to hire a sewen solar sweep year old like myself, a course, don't want to go about misleadin' folk. Lyin' to 'em. Suchlike.

[a stale beat.]

No nosy hiwemates. Roommates, whatewer. I don't fuckin' like most a you and I probably won't giwe a shit about your problems, so keep your cartilage nubs outta mine. I got more than enough beetles in my coffers to keep me afloat for a while, so rent ain't gonna be an issue. Probably.

[a beat. he sounds like he means to say something dramatic or heartfelt to top off his posts like usual, and then:]

Preferably cat friendly. But I'm flexible.

Comments

[amoray]

[IGNORING THAT]

What the fuck does a Deputy Mayor ewen do, anyway? Giwe the Mayor backrubs and order around unsuspectin' office peons for coffee and crosswords?

[enigmaestro]

What! I am still heading the Mayoral braintrust! I handle legislation arguments and factual investigation! Not to mention the social obligation.

[amoray]

So you do paperwork.

Scintillatin'.

[enigmaestro]

Hence why one must have hobbies.

[amoray]

Crosswords don't count as hobbies when you do 'em compulsiwely.

[enigmaestro]

And what do you know about compulsions?

[amoray]

Nothin', really.

Because I'm mentally sound and don't hawe any.

[enigmaestro]

You're a lot of things, Eridan. But I wouldn't call it mentally sound.

[amoray]

Pot.

Question mark totin' kettle.

[enigmaestro]

Really rich, coming from a kid in prison.

[amoray]

Richer, comin' from a conwict.

Sorry, ex-superwillain.

[enigmaestro]

[A harsh, low laugh.]

You're really not going to change, are you? Spiteful, vicious little Eridan.

[amoray]

It gets you places.

[beat.]

And you ain't exactly a magnanimous sort yourself, if you forgot.

[enigmaestro]

[Cruelly:] Mitchell thinks I'm wonderful.

[amoray]

[IMPULSIVELY:]

Mitchell ain't near as tolerant a your owerrought bullshit as me. Among other things.

[enigmaestro]

Why would you -- are you trying to falsehood trip me?

[amoray]

[IN REEDY LITTLE DOUCHE FASHION]

Mitchell Hundred ain't a the mindset or patience to really moirail for you - or not hawe you locked the fuck up - if you told him half the shit you told me!

[enigmaestro]

He knows me! [Uh oh.] He knows me, he has my life recorded in his home universe! He knows what I've done!

[amoray]

[saccharine:]

He ain't like us, Eddie. He wouldn't understand.

[then, abruptly remembering himself:]

How about this? Edward Nygma deserwes a slap in the fuckin' mouth.

[enigmaestro]

[Well obviously that won't ring false. Nevertheless, it's a good distraction, so he takes it.]

And who's going to deliver? You?

[amoray]

I don't enjoy sullyin' my hands with the blood a societal refuse. No more than I hawe to, a course.

[BOOYEAH EXCELLENT NOT-THREATENING-POLITICIANS SAVE]

I was thinkin' more one a your caliginous beaus. Norm, maybe. Or Midnighter. Maybe I oughta suggest it to 'em.

[enigmaestro]

I haven't heard from Norman as of late. He hasn't been answering the Mayor's Office calls.

[Spoken just a touch. Too. Pleasantly.]

I hope he wasn't ported out.

[amoray]

You don't sound pissed enough to think it was a port out. Kismessiship and lack a closure and suchlike business.

Maybe he's just not that into you.

[enigmaestro]

Yes, maybe that's it!

[Or maybe Norman's huddled in Eddie's deathtrap, waiting for the next torment to begin.]

You are, after all, an expert in repelling people, aren't you?

[amoray]

[AND ERIDAN DIDN'T EVEN GET TO HENCH FOR IT

GOD]

Spiteful, wicious little Ed.

[he remembers hearing eddie's father call him ed; can recall bits and pieces of his low, salty baritone. if he feels any guilt at all for trying to invoke childhood trauma in his former father figure, he doesn't recognize it. eddie's words have him seeing red - well, purple.

maybe green.]

You sad, little piece a shit.