the_devils_see app
P L A Y E R
☓ Name: Laura
☓ Personal journal: tableflips
☓ Age: 19
☓ Other characters in The Devils See: nope
☓ Email: eluardian at gmail dot com
☓ AIM/MSN/Yahoo! Messenger: aim: honktraband
C H A R A C T E R
☓ Name: Spades Slick/Scurrilous Straggler/(the other) Jack Noir (without dog parts)
☓ Series: MS Paint Adventures: Homestuck
☓ Reference: Homestuck general
Slick
The Intermission
☓ Canon point: This part where Scratch ruins his favorite toy.
☓ Age: ... old. He’s been screwing around in a desert for an unspecified number of centuries, despite not looking like a centuries-old kind of guy (Dersite biology sure is weird). His physical age, unfortunately, has done nothing for his maturity and he has frequent moments of behaving like a petulant child.
☓ Personality: Slick's default mode is angry. Rarely is he in a good mood for a genuine or not terrible reason -- sure, slitting throats of people he doesn't like makes him happy, but not really in the best way, given, you know.
The murder part.
But anyway, he exists in a state of constant irritation most of the time. Everything and anyone he will ever encounter are fated to leave a bad first impression on him in some way, because he's very, very short-tempered and really easy to offend. This anger at everyone extends to himself sometimes, but we'll learn more about that later. Slick is quick to judge and hard to convince otherwise, which becomes a problem because his views on many things are incredibly black and white. With people, for example, either they're kind of tolerable, or he hates them and will never not hate them. Ever. He would kill those people without hesitation, and he would feel good about it afterwards.
Unfortunately, wanting to stab first and judge later is his kneejerk response to most things (see: "stabbing is how he greets people," sorry Karkat). This is of course because Slick's morals are questionable at best. He is very of the mind that if someone does something to cross him, they deserve to die, and he won't stop himself from making it happen if given the chance. He's also really good at stabbing people and slitting throats and the like, because, well, he'd had a couple centuries to screw around in a desert building his mobster utopia. But we'll learn about that a bit later, too.
Slick is impatient, unsurprisingly, which leads to things like doing away with an original plan to, say, kill someone and make it look really cool and impressive because he messed up the clever one-liner and would rather just stab them in the throat and get it over with. The bit about the one-liners leads into the point that Slick is kind of a loser -- not, say, the kid picked last for gym, but he has a few really unfortunate habits that are just stupid. The first being, yes, awful one-liners. He tries incredibly, incredibly hard to make clever witticisms and slam excellent puns down at the perfect moment, and pretty much fails every single time. This frustrates him and just ups his anger points +10. Another ridiculous habit is his tendency to get distracted and do whatever occurs to him on a whim -- inevitably, leading to him getting caught playing around and pretending to joust and things like that. The last ridiculous habit is a little hit or miss, but Slick occasionally has moments, often in combat or other such conflict, of standing there and boggling vacantly at the worst times.
Like when Snowman is about to tear his limbs off. Or Scratch is about to take away his favorite toy and ruin it (jerk). These things tend to happen when he is too angry to even think rationally, which is not all the time despite what one may believe. Slick's anger is a constant, punctuated by little pockets of frothing rage and vacant boggling calm.
Despite going about cursing and shouting and stabbing people and generally carrying on, Slick is really conscious of what other people think of him. Granted, in most cases, he could not give less of a shit -- anyone who gives him trouble about something he does or did will just get stabbed in the face, after all! But there are those people he staunchly does not want to look like an idiot in front of, for various reasons.
Of course he makes a fool of himself in front of all of them somewhat regularly, but that's because he's only conscious of other people after he's done something stupid.
The people in question are pretty confined to the rest of the Midnight Crew, Snowman (huge bitch), and Karkat. The Crew and the kid are the only people Slick really doesn't hate entirely that much, so we'll look at Snowman first.
Because she is a huge bitch, bluh bluh, and Slick hates her. His hate for her is eternal and constant, pretty much because their previous respective roles in Sgrub (Archagent and the Black Queen) seem to be consistently bitter enemies in every session. Slick has hated Snowman since Derse and will continue to hate her for the rest of time. They have issues, obviously, as each time they're in the same room Slick tends to wind up beaten and/or bloody. By canon decree, the relationship between each sessions Archagent/Jack Noir and the Black Queen is the perfect example of what the troll culture would call a black romance, defined as an incredibly potent bitter rivalry. Which explains why they want to kill each other so persistently. Slick himself doesn't know shit about troll romance and so probably would not be in agreement, but still. Slick's life is hard, of course, because Snowman joined the Felt (whom Slick hates and really enjoys killing over and over, lol felt sux crew4lyfe) and became the universe and now he spends all of his time brooding over the fact that he cannot kill the one person he hates more than anything else without destroying creation.
What a bitch.
Moving on, Slick is the leader of the Midnight Crew! The Crew have an interesting set of relationships, which involve a lot of calling each other idiots and Slick getting frustrated, but they are actually legitimately important to him. He will not say this outright, naturally, but fucking with his Crew in any way is the fastest way to get on his shit list. His position as leader is a little bit informal within the Crew itself, because they are all pretty capable of taking care of themselves, but to outsiders Slick will present himself as the leader. He argues with them and gets frustrated with them over stupid things, but they are the people he has been in cahoots with for, again, several centuries, and it isn't a bond he's looking to crack. Offend one member and you offend the whole Crew, and Slick will take any excuse to stab someone in the eye, so. Mobsters sure are weird.
And then there's Karkat. Slick actively sought out Karkat during the Sgrub session to rope him and his team into dethroning and exiling the Black Queen/Snowman. The details of the operation are incredibly glossed over, but there is a bit about the "troll disease called friendship," which hints at Slick actually tolerating Karkat despite calling him a moron and hitting him in the face and, oh, stabbing him a bit. Really, apparently stabbing someone is a good way to approach them and ask for their help. Slick, please. But anyway, the relationship with Karkat is an odd one, as Slick kind of sort of maybe doesn't hate him completely. He puts forth the effort to calm Karkat down when he's having weird Karkat breakdowns on two occasions (admittedly one of them is slapping him a lot, but the other is some weird blood brothers bonding moment), but at the same time is really impatient with him and thinks he's a bit of a moron. It's kind of volatile, and Slick isn't likely to go find Karkat and give him lots of pseudo-replacement-lusus-figure-thing hugs, but he'll stand in the background calling Karkat a fuckass until the kid shuts up! He's helping!
The conclusion we can draw here is that Slick is pretty bad with people.
A final thing to note as far as Slick's personality is tied to the Sgrub game itself. Slick is Jack Noir, Archagent of Derse, but unlike his Sburb counterpart, does not come into possession of the prototyping ring and go on a genocidal rampage and essentially break the game. Bizarrely, because as we can see he's not really a proactive, helping hand kind of guy, he builds a city in the Alternian desert after being exiled. All the times he keeps saying he "made this town"? Yeah, he actually did. Slick is therefore fundamentally different from the other Jack Noir because he was never pushed into genocidal insanity and given the opportunity to commit said mass murder. Sure, he does kill a lot of people and not really feel bad about it, but his kind of warped justice system says that they deserve it. He would not, for example, walk into a secret library full of Prospitians and Dersites and slaughter them all immediately. Where Sburb's Jack is stuck on destroy, Slick is set to build. There is really no point in a having his own city if no one lives in it to listen to him, anyway. So while he is skewed in the morals department, he is not entirely gone. Which is something.
He also loves licorice to the point of obsession and has questionable taste in magazines. And doesn't like clocks.
What a guy.
☓ Abilities: He is very good with bladed weapons. Very good. He also has pretty good reflexes, and is a smart fellow despite being massively single-minded. Also he plays a wicked sweet piano. Similar to the sylladex possessed by the human kids and the trolls, Slick has a Weird Inventory Thing in the form of a deck of cards. The deck itself can be deployed as a “war chest,” and each card inside it can presumably take the form of something else. Slick tends to use his cards for licorice and sharp things, but sometimes he shoves things (people) into the chest.
☓ Weaknesses: One-liners. Puns. Also is very impatient and prone to anger. And he's blind in one eye because it was stabbed out violently. He has a habit of standing totally still and not doing anything when dangerous people are about to do things like tear his limbs off, as well. OF NOTE but only temporarily: given that he has a robotic arm presumably not designed for full aquatic submergence and of questionable age, it's going to logically stop working properly/entirely ... pretty much upon arrival. Having one arm counts as a weakness I suppose!!
☓ Strengths: He's resourceful enough to make it in a desert wasteland. He also has some ability to command through, well, threats of violence, and isn't half bad at making and carrying out complicated plans -- exiling his immediate superior took a certain amount of finesse, okok. Slick is a pretty smart fellow (with a creative vocabulary, even -- contemptuous she-witch, indeed), he just loses patience more often than he concentrates for long periods of time.
☓ Intranet post sample:
so im on some kind of fucking beach right now
and
whatever the fuck is happening needs to stop right fucking now
where the hell am i and why am i fucking soaked and using this piece of shit croimpu
fuck
this thing is goddamn impossible to type on
piece of shit
alright back to business
first of all i need a goddamn mechanic or something
or just a screwdriver i dont really care
second this is pretty damn bad timing
i have shit to be getting done and i dont have time to fuck around in the ocean
whoevers bright idea this was better just come find me so we can have a friendly chat
and im going to stab you
☓ Log post sample:
Drowning, as it so happened, had not been on Slick's to-do list. Slick didn't even have a to-do list, to fully get across the point that being under a metric fuckton of water was not what he wanted to be doing. There was a brief moment in which he wondered if this was that stupid cueball's doing, and he had a whole list of rude things to say about said cueball going in his head before everything decided it wanted to lurch and spin very, very suddenly, and Slick remembered that he was fucking drowning. The lurch and spin, it seemed, was the reminder of what happened when someone stopped breathing and started to sink to the bottom of the -- whatever absurd body of water this was.
That is to say, die cold and alone in an impossibly endless darkness. Another thing, funnily enough, not on Slick's to-do list.
He spent another few seconds wondering where this water had even come from. Alternia was a bit of a wasteland, and this seemed to be pretty deep, judging by the expanse of dark and nothing extending beneath his feet. Great. Finally get off that rock, and get dropped right in some kind of sea of bullshit. This is precisely what he wanted to be doing with his time.
His senses lurched again, forcibly reminding him of a number of unfortunate things. The first of which being that he was still under the fucking water, the second of which being that he wasn't even sure he knew how to swim (one forgets these things after spending centuries in a desert), and the third of which being that his hat had come off and was attempting to drift away. True to his keen survival instincts, Slick thrashed wildly in the water, making unsuccessful grabs at his hat until he finally caught it and shoved it inside his coat for safekeeping.
And then, after this entire moment of speculation and hat-related flailing that quite efficiently wasted a minute or so, he decided to deal with the fact that he couldn't breathe. Shit, that was still happening. Or not happening? Whatever. He looked up towards the surface.
There then followed an embarrassing sequence of flailing and thrashing and accidentally swallowing a lot of sea water that has been respectfully cut for the sake of Slick's dignity, and also time purposes.
Upon reaching the shore, the first thing Slick did was collapse on the sand and cough up enough salt water to not quite drown a man. Later, he would scrape the sand off his face, curse unabashedly at his robotic arm for somehow amassing a great deal of some seaweed-looking plant that got very tangled very fast (as well as stop working entirely after a few weak twitches that made the thing spark violently and then fizzle into a useless hunk of metal and fried seaweed), and lament the wrinkled state of his hat. For now, he was just going to fuck all of that and pass out. He deserved to pass out after the day he'd had, which was really horrible and aggravating, for the record. Cueballs and drowning, wow, what a great time.
Even later than that, after his hat had been smoothed out enough to be put back on his head, he dragged himself up and made his way down the beach, occasionally tripping on partially-buried rocks and swearing at them enough to render them speechless, had they been sentient. His metal arm hung pointlessly at his side, only proving to be of use when he left the beach and wandered into an apparently deserted house. Rounding a corner, his arm smacked into something with it that resonated with a metallic sound. He turned back to it, dragging his other hand across what appeared to be an ancient and absolutely filthy computer monitor, complete with huge encasement and equally filthy keyboard. He grimaced at the thing before feeling around the casing, giving up, and smashing his fist against the keyboard until he hit whatever button turned it on. The screen flickered to life and greeted him with .... some kind of message board?
What the actual fuck, Slick thought, before smashing a few more buttons until something popped up that he assumed would post his frothing and terrible rage to a bunch of strangers.
It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Pecking at these stupidly old keys with only one hand sure was the most fun thing he could think of! Swearing under his breath all the while, he started to type out a message.
so im on some kind of fucking beach right now
Yeah, this was going to be just swell.
☓ Name: Laura
☓ Personal journal: tableflips
☓ Age: 19
☓ Other characters in The Devils See: nope
☓ Email: eluardian at gmail dot com
☓ AIM/MSN/Yahoo! Messenger: aim: honktraband
C H A R A C T E R
☓ Name: Spades Slick/Scurrilous Straggler/(the other) Jack Noir (without dog parts)
☓ Series: MS Paint Adventures: Homestuck
☓ Reference: Homestuck general
Slick
The Intermission
☓ Canon point: This part where Scratch ruins his favorite toy.
☓ Age: ... old. He’s been screwing around in a desert for an unspecified number of centuries, despite not looking like a centuries-old kind of guy (Dersite biology sure is weird). His physical age, unfortunately, has done nothing for his maturity and he has frequent moments of behaving like a petulant child.
☓ Personality: Slick's default mode is angry. Rarely is he in a good mood for a genuine or not terrible reason -- sure, slitting throats of people he doesn't like makes him happy, but not really in the best way, given, you know.
The murder part.
But anyway, he exists in a state of constant irritation most of the time. Everything and anyone he will ever encounter are fated to leave a bad first impression on him in some way, because he's very, very short-tempered and really easy to offend. This anger at everyone extends to himself sometimes, but we'll learn more about that later. Slick is quick to judge and hard to convince otherwise, which becomes a problem because his views on many things are incredibly black and white. With people, for example, either they're kind of tolerable, or he hates them and will never not hate them. Ever. He would kill those people without hesitation, and he would feel good about it afterwards.
Unfortunately, wanting to stab first and judge later is his kneejerk response to most things (see: "stabbing is how he greets people," sorry Karkat). This is of course because Slick's morals are questionable at best. He is very of the mind that if someone does something to cross him, they deserve to die, and he won't stop himself from making it happen if given the chance. He's also really good at stabbing people and slitting throats and the like, because, well, he'd had a couple centuries to screw around in a desert building his mobster utopia. But we'll learn about that a bit later, too.
Slick is impatient, unsurprisingly, which leads to things like doing away with an original plan to, say, kill someone and make it look really cool and impressive because he messed up the clever one-liner and would rather just stab them in the throat and get it over with. The bit about the one-liners leads into the point that Slick is kind of a loser -- not, say, the kid picked last for gym, but he has a few really unfortunate habits that are just stupid. The first being, yes, awful one-liners. He tries incredibly, incredibly hard to make clever witticisms and slam excellent puns down at the perfect moment, and pretty much fails every single time. This frustrates him and just ups his anger points +10. Another ridiculous habit is his tendency to get distracted and do whatever occurs to him on a whim -- inevitably, leading to him getting caught playing around and pretending to joust and things like that. The last ridiculous habit is a little hit or miss, but Slick occasionally has moments, often in combat or other such conflict, of standing there and boggling vacantly at the worst times.
Like when Snowman is about to tear his limbs off. Or Scratch is about to take away his favorite toy and ruin it (jerk). These things tend to happen when he is too angry to even think rationally, which is not all the time despite what one may believe. Slick's anger is a constant, punctuated by little pockets of frothing rage and vacant boggling calm.
Despite going about cursing and shouting and stabbing people and generally carrying on, Slick is really conscious of what other people think of him. Granted, in most cases, he could not give less of a shit -- anyone who gives him trouble about something he does or did will just get stabbed in the face, after all! But there are those people he staunchly does not want to look like an idiot in front of, for various reasons.
Of course he makes a fool of himself in front of all of them somewhat regularly, but that's because he's only conscious of other people after he's done something stupid.
The people in question are pretty confined to the rest of the Midnight Crew, Snowman (huge bitch), and Karkat. The Crew and the kid are the only people Slick really doesn't hate entirely that much, so we'll look at Snowman first.
Because she is a huge bitch, bluh bluh, and Slick hates her. His hate for her is eternal and constant, pretty much because their previous respective roles in Sgrub (Archagent and the Black Queen) seem to be consistently bitter enemies in every session. Slick has hated Snowman since Derse and will continue to hate her for the rest of time. They have issues, obviously, as each time they're in the same room Slick tends to wind up beaten and/or bloody. By canon decree, the relationship between each sessions Archagent/Jack Noir and the Black Queen is the perfect example of what the troll culture would call a black romance, defined as an incredibly potent bitter rivalry. Which explains why they want to kill each other so persistently. Slick himself doesn't know shit about troll romance and so probably would not be in agreement, but still. Slick's life is hard, of course, because Snowman joined the Felt (whom Slick hates and really enjoys killing over and over, lol felt sux crew4lyfe) and became the universe and now he spends all of his time brooding over the fact that he cannot kill the one person he hates more than anything else without destroying creation.
What a bitch.
Moving on, Slick is the leader of the Midnight Crew! The Crew have an interesting set of relationships, which involve a lot of calling each other idiots and Slick getting frustrated, but they are actually legitimately important to him. He will not say this outright, naturally, but fucking with his Crew in any way is the fastest way to get on his shit list. His position as leader is a little bit informal within the Crew itself, because they are all pretty capable of taking care of themselves, but to outsiders Slick will present himself as the leader. He argues with them and gets frustrated with them over stupid things, but they are the people he has been in cahoots with for, again, several centuries, and it isn't a bond he's looking to crack. Offend one member and you offend the whole Crew, and Slick will take any excuse to stab someone in the eye, so. Mobsters sure are weird.
And then there's Karkat. Slick actively sought out Karkat during the Sgrub session to rope him and his team into dethroning and exiling the Black Queen/Snowman. The details of the operation are incredibly glossed over, but there is a bit about the "troll disease called friendship," which hints at Slick actually tolerating Karkat despite calling him a moron and hitting him in the face and, oh, stabbing him a bit. Really, apparently stabbing someone is a good way to approach them and ask for their help. Slick, please. But anyway, the relationship with Karkat is an odd one, as Slick kind of sort of maybe doesn't hate him completely. He puts forth the effort to calm Karkat down when he's having weird Karkat breakdowns on two occasions (admittedly one of them is slapping him a lot, but the other is some weird blood brothers bonding moment), but at the same time is really impatient with him and thinks he's a bit of a moron. It's kind of volatile, and Slick isn't likely to go find Karkat and give him lots of pseudo-replacement-lusus-figure-thing hugs, but he'll stand in the background calling Karkat a fuckass until the kid shuts up! He's helping!
The conclusion we can draw here is that Slick is pretty bad with people.
A final thing to note as far as Slick's personality is tied to the Sgrub game itself. Slick is Jack Noir, Archagent of Derse, but unlike his Sburb counterpart, does not come into possession of the prototyping ring and go on a genocidal rampage and essentially break the game. Bizarrely, because as we can see he's not really a proactive, helping hand kind of guy, he builds a city in the Alternian desert after being exiled. All the times he keeps saying he "made this town"? Yeah, he actually did. Slick is therefore fundamentally different from the other Jack Noir because he was never pushed into genocidal insanity and given the opportunity to commit said mass murder. Sure, he does kill a lot of people and not really feel bad about it, but his kind of warped justice system says that they deserve it. He would not, for example, walk into a secret library full of Prospitians and Dersites and slaughter them all immediately. Where Sburb's Jack is stuck on destroy, Slick is set to build. There is really no point in a having his own city if no one lives in it to listen to him, anyway. So while he is skewed in the morals department, he is not entirely gone. Which is something.
He also loves licorice to the point of obsession and has questionable taste in magazines. And doesn't like clocks.
What a guy.
☓ Abilities: He is very good with bladed weapons. Very good. He also has pretty good reflexes, and is a smart fellow despite being massively single-minded. Also he plays a wicked sweet piano. Similar to the sylladex possessed by the human kids and the trolls, Slick has a Weird Inventory Thing in the form of a deck of cards. The deck itself can be deployed as a “war chest,” and each card inside it can presumably take the form of something else. Slick tends to use his cards for licorice and sharp things, but sometimes he shoves things (people) into the chest.
☓ Weaknesses: One-liners. Puns. Also is very impatient and prone to anger. And he's blind in one eye because it was stabbed out violently. He has a habit of standing totally still and not doing anything when dangerous people are about to do things like tear his limbs off, as well. OF NOTE but only temporarily: given that he has a robotic arm presumably not designed for full aquatic submergence and of questionable age, it's going to logically stop working properly/entirely ... pretty much upon arrival. Having one arm counts as a weakness I suppose!!
☓ Strengths: He's resourceful enough to make it in a desert wasteland. He also has some ability to command through, well, threats of violence, and isn't half bad at making and carrying out complicated plans -- exiling his immediate superior took a certain amount of finesse, okok. Slick is a pretty smart fellow (with a creative vocabulary, even -- contemptuous she-witch, indeed), he just loses patience more often than he concentrates for long periods of time.
☓ Intranet post sample:
so im on some kind of fucking beach right now
and
whatever the fuck is happening needs to stop right fucking now
where the hell am i and why am i fucking soaked and using this piece of shit croimpu
fuck
this thing is goddamn impossible to type on
piece of shit
alright back to business
first of all i need a goddamn mechanic or something
or just a screwdriver i dont really care
second this is pretty damn bad timing
i have shit to be getting done and i dont have time to fuck around in the ocean
whoevers bright idea this was better just come find me so we can have a friendly chat
and im going to stab you
☓ Log post sample:
Drowning, as it so happened, had not been on Slick's to-do list. Slick didn't even have a to-do list, to fully get across the point that being under a metric fuckton of water was not what he wanted to be doing. There was a brief moment in which he wondered if this was that stupid cueball's doing, and he had a whole list of rude things to say about said cueball going in his head before everything decided it wanted to lurch and spin very, very suddenly, and Slick remembered that he was fucking drowning. The lurch and spin, it seemed, was the reminder of what happened when someone stopped breathing and started to sink to the bottom of the -- whatever absurd body of water this was.
That is to say, die cold and alone in an impossibly endless darkness. Another thing, funnily enough, not on Slick's to-do list.
He spent another few seconds wondering where this water had even come from. Alternia was a bit of a wasteland, and this seemed to be pretty deep, judging by the expanse of dark and nothing extending beneath his feet. Great. Finally get off that rock, and get dropped right in some kind of sea of bullshit. This is precisely what he wanted to be doing with his time.
His senses lurched again, forcibly reminding him of a number of unfortunate things. The first of which being that he was still under the fucking water, the second of which being that he wasn't even sure he knew how to swim (one forgets these things after spending centuries in a desert), and the third of which being that his hat had come off and was attempting to drift away. True to his keen survival instincts, Slick thrashed wildly in the water, making unsuccessful grabs at his hat until he finally caught it and shoved it inside his coat for safekeeping.
And then, after this entire moment of speculation and hat-related flailing that quite efficiently wasted a minute or so, he decided to deal with the fact that he couldn't breathe. Shit, that was still happening. Or not happening? Whatever. He looked up towards the surface.
There then followed an embarrassing sequence of flailing and thrashing and accidentally swallowing a lot of sea water that has been respectfully cut for the sake of Slick's dignity, and also time purposes.
Upon reaching the shore, the first thing Slick did was collapse on the sand and cough up enough salt water to not quite drown a man. Later, he would scrape the sand off his face, curse unabashedly at his robotic arm for somehow amassing a great deal of some seaweed-looking plant that got very tangled very fast (as well as stop working entirely after a few weak twitches that made the thing spark violently and then fizzle into a useless hunk of metal and fried seaweed), and lament the wrinkled state of his hat. For now, he was just going to fuck all of that and pass out. He deserved to pass out after the day he'd had, which was really horrible and aggravating, for the record. Cueballs and drowning, wow, what a great time.
Even later than that, after his hat had been smoothed out enough to be put back on his head, he dragged himself up and made his way down the beach, occasionally tripping on partially-buried rocks and swearing at them enough to render them speechless, had they been sentient. His metal arm hung pointlessly at his side, only proving to be of use when he left the beach and wandered into an apparently deserted house. Rounding a corner, his arm smacked into something with it that resonated with a metallic sound. He turned back to it, dragging his other hand across what appeared to be an ancient and absolutely filthy computer monitor, complete with huge encasement and equally filthy keyboard. He grimaced at the thing before feeling around the casing, giving up, and smashing his fist against the keyboard until he hit whatever button turned it on. The screen flickered to life and greeted him with .... some kind of message board?
What the actual fuck, Slick thought, before smashing a few more buttons until something popped up that he assumed would post his frothing and terrible rage to a bunch of strangers.
It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Pecking at these stupidly old keys with only one hand sure was the most fun thing he could think of! Swearing under his breath all the while, he started to type out a message.
so im on some kind of fucking beach right now
Yeah, this was going to be just swell.