paradisa | 80; action/dictated

[It's been well over a week. Something should have changed by now.]

[Spike has been feeling oddly anxious lately, for a few reasons, but he's decided that most of them are tied to the fact that he can't figure out how to work the new 'no smoking' sections that the castle put in just for him. Vicious probably thinks it's funny that he can't light his own cigarette, and Spike may have even chuckled along with him if it'd only lasted a day, but this is getting serious. Then there's the fact that he definitely felt like he got a buzz the last time they were playing pool, which he's since been unable to replicate. Castle humor at its worst.

So he does what anyone would, and puts whatever-it-is to the test. He spent the early part of the evening waiting in the laundry room, making a good attempt at seeming busy with clothes that aren't his, until the last patron of the Death Match stumbles past him and down the hall. Then, he walks into the bar with a basket and loads up as many bottles as he can carry -- admittedly less than he could have before, but his hands have made an almost miraculous recovery since the injury. In their place, he leaves a pointed note behind the counter that reads: They won't go to waste.

It takes more than one trip to carry the majority of the stock from the bar to his room, and by the time he finishes unloading the last of it, he's already wondering why he went to all the trouble. There's better revenge for spilling beer on him on April Fools Day, especially when it won't exactly set them back, but it's the principle of the thing.

Moreover, he's not sure that his note was being entirely truthful after a few failed attempts at pouring the alcohol into a glass. Unless the owner suddenly knocks down his door, his evening has suddenly gone bust. He could probably drop it and make a call to shoot another game of pool, but even bantering and in a smokey room isn't so appealing when he's been inactive for too long. It's enough to drive a guy insane.]

[Hefting a sigh, he flips open the journal, with no particular purpose in mind.]

Is it just me, or does everything seem to be moving backwards? Between this and Florence, we keep going in the wrong direction. [Since he's obviously referring to their new 'Medieval' town that's becoming less charming as time goes on.] The dinosaurs too, now that I think about it. Talk about favoring the majority.

[Residents, he means. He's hoping one of them hears him.]

( Brock )

[He could preface this filter with something thoughtful, since he hasn't checked in since the coma and Brock has his own stuff, but he assumes that it's all implied with the act of filtering to him at all.]

How's the car running?

ooc: Basically this is Spike trying to figure out his new loss by stealing all the alcohol. Also open for running into him in the laundry room or anywhere along his path.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Interest and frustration- we have yet to discover a way to time travel where I come from. [Would have saved me a lot of trouble, he added silently.]

[Spike sincerely doubts that. Time travel has yet to do him any favors.]

Who knew the secret was in a castle?

In a magic wish-granting one, at that. One that tries to call itself Paradise, but has proven to be not much like what I envisioned.

They really should have run it by us first.

Wouldn't that have been nice? Then I could at least have chosen what to lose and who to bring with me.

That would at least give yourself someone else to blame. You'd think they'd be all for it.

But the randomness causes us more uncertainty, too. The castle probably likes that better.

I wonder how long it takes for it not to seem random anymore.

Years, I would imagine. The castle is not likely to run out of ideas for things to inflict on us any time soon.

The things we'll put up with for indoor plumbing.

Indeed. I am not one for so-called "roughing it" at all.

[He can't see it, but that earns a smile. Anyone who puts it like is making a valid point.]

It's probably better that you don't.

Someone does have to stay behind and keep the castle's residents in good working order, after all.

[Give him a second, he forgets things.]

That's right, you're a doctor.

Yes. It seems like no matter where I end up in the universe, I never have a shortage of patients.

You ever wonder if that's why it kept you around?

The thought has certainly crossed my mind. I am useful. [It was one of the reasons Mal had kept him around, after all.]

Although I guess that wouldn't apply for everyone.

I am sure that everyone here serves some sort of purpose. Otherwise, why bother bringing us at all?

The purpose doesn't have to be useful.

True. "For the castle's amusement" is hardly useful to anyone.

We can't all be doctors.

I know. But it seems like that is all I am good for.

You'd rather be the entertainment?

Fair point. I do not know which would be worse, to be honest.

(no subject)

gottaknockhard - 2014-05-13 01:22 (UTC) - Expand