ic inbox

[headjacked]

Heyyyyyyyy, kiddo, you've reached me. Me who is Rhys. Anyway, not sure why you're trying to get in contact with the king of the dweebs, but I'm sure you've got your reasons. Reasons you should probably re-examine. I'm just sayin'.

Last chance to back out.

No?

Don't say I didn't warn ya.

Comments

[plundering]

Oh, sorry, you mean the planet I live on? Yeah, fuck all those people who died, right? I didn't, so it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter that I'm trapped there, either, or that I was born there, or that I didn't have any choice, either. Jack did it, so it was justified. And I'm just a low-class Pandoran, anyway. Totally expendable.

[headjacked]

Your planet, my goddamn body.

[ She wants his cybernetics gone, apparently, so maybe it's NOT so terrible, the way he's stress-scratching around his port. Maybe. ]

Macro vs. micro. And yet my feelings STILL! DON'T! MATTER! Why don't they matter, Fiona?!

[plundering]

You didn't even hear his plan! He might not even have to touch your cybernetics! Just admit that you don't give a shit about anything but Jack. Just admit it. All this other bullshit you're spewing is just a convenient excuse. How many people have been hurt because of that fucking AI? If you don't give a shit about me or House, what about Angel? What is it going to take, Rhys?

cw self harm

[headjacked]

Fine, fine! You want to settle this right now -- let's!

[ The scratching intensifies until he draws blood, though he can't get farther than that with shaking fingers and no tools on hand.

Dumpy drifts closer. He's witnessed many a screaming match, but even his simple programming recognizes that something is different here. He screams right in Rhys' ear, distressed. ]

Shut up, Dumpy!

[plundering]

Hey. You leave Dumpy out of this.

[God, Rhys, quit being an asshole. She lets out a frustrated noise.]

If you've got something else to say, say it. Otherwise we're done here.

[headjacked]

[ It is at this moment Rhys realizes that breathing has become quite difficult. His heart has been racing since the beginning, and now, as he looks beyond his tablet, he realizes the room is spinning.

Rhys is not doing well.

He sucks in a few gaspy breaths before dropping the tablet.

They're done here. She said so. They're done. ]

[plundering]

[That was the last of his last chances, and he doesn't respond, which just cements in her mind everything she's already suspected. It's a good thing those tablets are durable, because she's whipping hers at the wall, and she won't respond again.]