revenance_comms | (no subject)

Okay, is this thing worki--yeah, it's... I'm in the frame? I... yeah. Right.

[The cowboy straightens, clears his throat, hooks his thumb in his belt, and gives the communicator his most calm and collected scowl. All a matter of looking like none of this bothers you, even when it's a hideous mess. Which this is looking like it is. Business as usual.]

All right, folks, this is Marshall Sparks Nevada, representative of the Mars-Earth coalition. I know this place likely ain't on either planet, but this whole business jumped up to the top of my priority list. Mostly on account've all my other business is in another dimension, so you know, whatever.

Point is, here, I'm gonna hafta ask all've you to provide a list of your name, your home planet... the planet you were last on, if'n those two ain't the same... what space-year you're from, and your dimensional zip code.

Reckon I may have a ways afore we're gettin' out of here proper, but more I can know about how far-spread a problem this is, the more appropriate charges can be put on the culprits for this nonsense once I wrap it all up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Uh, Grif, Earth, Chorus....kinda lost track of what year it is and I don't know what the fuck a dimensional zip code is so I'm just gonna say banana.

[He'd been marking things down on a notepad until about halfway through. Then he just gives an unimpressed scowl.]

Yeah, fruit ain't the usual sort of identifier that's any type'a useful. Gimme a ballpark on year, at least.

[Grif pauses, having to work things out. Being on the move constantly made it hard to keep track of dates. And Simmons wasn't here to help him out. And his Game of Thrones countdown (he'd had to replace Battlestar Galactica somehow) wouldn't be of any help here.]

2556...I think? I've been on the move a lot, hard to keep track.

Gotcha. Seems to be an awful lot of you soldier guys around, you all get warp hole'd here together, or something?

Nope. I just got here.

Kinda an improvement compared to where I was before.

Bully for you, buddy, free vacation.

I wish. The rest of my squad's here so it's pretty much business as usual.

[Getting shot at and walking into double entendres. The life of Dexter Grif is a hard one.]

Figures. You'd think dreams'd be your one time off from work, just how it goes, ain't it.

[These two can relate in a lot more ways than anticipated.]

Yeah, pretty much. I mean, it saves having to rescue them and all, but still.

Well, don't count it out yet, there. Looks like there's more'n enough trouble in these parts to get people caught up. Good to have backup, but all the more backs to watch.

[Grif considers his options. Sarge. Donut. Wash. Well, thank God Caboose isn't here.]

Think I'll stick to avoiding trouble.

Not... the most inspiring words I've heard out of a soldier.

[Seriously, these armored guys need to get their lives together or something.]

Well, have a good time of it.

Sorry. Didn't realize that was what you were looking for.

Not looking for, so much, as anticipating. Don't worry, I've... gotten used to it.

For the record, if you mean anyone like me in red or blue armour, don't anticipate anything from us.

Yeah, don't go taking this the wrong way or nothin', but that look as a whole doesn't seem to mean much good for anyone. Regardless of color spectrum.

Dude, you have no idea.