[Dan has, at this moment, a laundry hamper full of cupids in the dorm room, which he's doing his best to try and tie up in the big bag. Little pyrite arrows keep poking out, and the sound of the cupids wailing in frustration echoes down the hall.]
Don't rustle around, you'll stab each other. [Dan has a tasteful amount of blood on his shoulder, by which he would mean, enough for a cupid to have gotten exactly a taste and nothing more. He looks a little frazzled and a little bit wildly entertained as Sam comes in.]
Sam! Oh, thank God you're here, there are another two in my locker and at least four took down the hall. We can probably fit a few more in here. Then...
[Well, Dan doesn't know how smart they are or if they feel pain. If there's a way to just let them go somewhere, catch-and-release some flesh-eating monsters, without having to worry about them devouring some other people next or dying of exposure, Dan would be a hundred percent behind that. As it stands, he's worried they may have to slaughter these little bastards, which, given that he's not sure they're going to get weapons to do execute that task, may horrifically turn into swinging a laundry bag against a table until the have a cupid stew.]
B. [open to all]
[Dan's found a way around his illiteracy when it comes to the valentines, which he finds quite relaxing to work on: sketching caricatures of the recipients on the back.
The problem is that he's trying to make one for each of the hires as well as all the Jorg staff with whom he has a friendly-or-more relationship, that's around a hundred people, and as such his hands are cramped, he's covered in marker, and...he realizes that no one's going to know who these valentines came from. He snags the nearest person walking by.]
Hey, do you mind helping me out and signing my name for me? I, uh... [Is "still signs his name with an X" levels of illiterate.] ...might could use any help I can get.
C. [open to all]
[Folks like to complain about the Rig, but Dan can't really knock the entertainment options, and what amounts to a computer-scored kissing competition is the top of his list in terms of things that sound like a fun afternoon. He changes into a uniform that isn't covered in his own and cupid blood, then shows up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to the event.
He recognizes basically all of the Jorg workers here, and has an idea of what the computer will spit out in terms of rankings based on his own experience with them. He looks to the hire next to him.]
no subject
[Dan has, at this moment, a laundry hamper full of cupids in the dorm room, which he's doing his best to try and tie up in the big bag. Little pyrite arrows keep poking out, and the sound of the cupids wailing in frustration echoes down the hall.]
Don't rustle around, you'll stab each other. [Dan has a tasteful amount of blood on his shoulder, by which he would mean, enough for a cupid to have gotten exactly a taste and nothing more. He looks a little frazzled and a little bit wildly entertained as Sam comes in.]
Sam! Oh, thank God you're here, there are another two in my locker and at least four took down the hall. We can probably fit a few more in here. Then...
[Well, Dan doesn't know how smart they are or if they feel pain. If there's a way to just let them go somewhere, catch-and-release some flesh-eating monsters, without having to worry about them devouring some other people next or dying of exposure, Dan would be a hundred percent behind that. As it stands, he's worried they may have to slaughter these little bastards, which, given that he's not sure they're going to get weapons to do execute that task, may horrifically turn into swinging a laundry bag against a table until the have a cupid stew.]
B. [open to all]
[Dan's found a way around his illiteracy when it comes to the valentines, which he finds quite relaxing to work on: sketching caricatures of the recipients on the back.
The problem is that he's trying to make one for each of the hires as well as all the Jorg staff with whom he has a friendly-or-more relationship, that's around a hundred people, and as such his hands are cramped, he's covered in marker, and...he realizes that no one's going to know who these valentines came from. He snags the nearest person walking by.]
Hey, do you mind helping me out and signing my name for me? I, uh... [Is "still signs his name with an X" levels of illiterate.] ...might could use any help I can get.
C. [open to all]
[Folks like to complain about the Rig, but Dan can't really knock the entertainment options, and what amounts to a computer-scored kissing competition is the top of his list in terms of things that sound like a fun afternoon. He changes into a uniform that isn't covered in his own and cupid blood, then shows up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to the event.
He recognizes basically all of the Jorg workers here, and has an idea of what the computer will spit out in terms of rankings based on his own experience with them. He looks to the hire next to him.]
Careful, Stephanie over there likes to bite.