Test

[on_your_nerves]

Test

Comments

[nerves_of_steel]

Test?

[on_your_nerves]

It's fairly obvious I'm in the middle of an experiment at the moment, John; don't be distracting.

[nerves_of_steel]

You're doing your experiment in the middle of the common area, Sherlock. I nearly tripped over you.

[on_your_nerves]

Then walk around. Obviously. I need the space.

[nerves_of_steel]

'Obviously'. Right. Shall I set up a sign to warn others? 'Prince of Deduction at work'?

[on_your_nerves]

Yes. Worded exactly like that.

[nerves_of_steel]

The bit of paper I've got on me isn't big enough for that, unfortunately.

{applies a sticky note to Sherlock's forehead reading 'floor hog'}

[on_your_nerves]

[Rips it off and looks at it, then glares. And possibly spreads out more on the floor.]

[nerves_of_steel]

[Settles down nearby with his omnicom and starts doing something with it. Very slowly, just like how he always types.]

[on_your_nerves]

You're not writing a blog post about this, are you?

[nerves_of_steel]

Should I be? Do you predict this being more interesting than it looks?

[not_the_philistine]

It worked.

[on_your_nerves]

I'm still testing.

[not_the_philistine]

Testing what?

[on_your_nerves]

The confines of our new setting.

[not_the_philistine]

A worthwhile pursuit.

What have you found?

[on_your_nerves]

The format is much more freeform. I'm not sure I like it, though the old one was perhaps a bit too confining.

[not_the_philistine]

Is it?

I had not yet noticed dissimilarities.

It's quieter, here.

[grimbiker]

Sherlock, the picture of my face is smaller in this comment. You have to fix it. People have to be able to fully appreciate my good looks.

[on_your_nerves]

I fail to see why the pictures are even necessary when we're in a written medium. Whatever happened to physical description?

[grimbiker]

Look, I understand that your self conscious. If I had a face like yours I would be too. There's no reason to take out your own insecurity on the rest of us.

[on_your_nerves]

I'm not self conscious in the least.

...And there's nothing wrong with my face.

[grimbiker]

I'm sorry, Sherlock but I'm your mate and I owe you the truth. You're only attractive from the neck down. From the neck up-- how do I put this gently?

[punchedoutdestiny]

[WHOOPS.

See that wall? It's gone. And there's a lot of rubble. And a giant, gaudy red robot head.]

[herhonorness]

[Mind if I try a bit of RP?]

Honor looks up from the calibrations she was doing on a group of Manticorian Missile Pods, when Nimitz's ears flicker in warning.

Then she too hears the rumbling noise.

"Oh dear."

She dives for cover as a giant robot head (that is gaudy) bursts through one of the hanger walls (gaudily)

She picks herself up, and in her most stern military voice, calls out.

"Are you trying to get us all killed, Mr. Jiha?"

[electricman]

Wow. I get sent here in an attempt for my mun to better understand story interaction, and not only does he miss most of my cues for using me, but now I'm stuck in limbo without a shot at seeing Zeke or anybody I care about for a while.

(Sorry if I sound snappish, I was just really looking forward to seeing what directions I could take Cole in on the Trans 9. Hell, once I got New Vegas and saw he was becoming friends with Maxson, I couldn't help but start imagining him kicking ass in Brotherhood Power Armor.)

[herhonorness]

(I hear you, man. But let us not give in to anger, but empathize with a group of people who sounded like they were really having a tough time. Keep heart: there seemed to be enough people keen on continuing to continue here...including me.

Meanwhile, in the interest of crack...)

A Treecat falls down from a nearby tree an attempts to use Cole's head as a pillow.

...Not much hair: it's not a very comfy pillow.

[first_of_steel]

(Hey, it happens. I'm sure we can arrange something, though.)

[herhonorness]

[So then...

The Musebox isn't picking up steam...unless everyone's gone somewhere else that I haven't noticed.

*Dops Beret*

A pity. It looks like Trans 9 must enter into a time of slumber, but I hold out hope that it'll rise again.

Honor Harrington, aka Colesign, signing off.]