You made it sound like I'm the outlier here. You know, in this hotel full of people who have already been in a game of murder before. Who probably are dangerous.
[He
GESTURES WITH ONE HAND AGAIN. And then starts leading Claude along. Well, if Claude follows. To the corner lot!]
Anyhow, Claude can see that his suitemate is Sylvain based on the starry portrait at the adjacent door. But Jason unlocks the door to his own room that's wedged at the corner of North. He holds the door and gestures dramatically again for Claude to get inside. Hope he is wowed by nothing.
It's about the worst bachelor room you would expect from an edgy city boy in his one room studio flat. The most surprising thing is--it's neat? Jason Todd is clean and, shockingly, organized. There's no mess, almost neurotically so.
The interior colors are muted and industrial, like greys, but there are a lot of clear instances of red--as if red is his favorite color, or something. The accents are all black. What do you know, it matches his top. Wild.
The bed is an iron-framed queen, just big enough to fit his stupid dorito body while also giving the impression he doesn't typically share. Just good ol' Jason Todd, alone. The sheets are red which is fitting, but after a while of looking at the room, it's evident it's because it's easier to hide blood stains with red. Probably. Nearby is a decent closet, the doors mirrored and expanding the depth of the room with illusion.
The desk is one that can be folded up against the wall to make more floor room; three guesses as to why a Bat needs extra space to move around. Right now, the desk is folded down, and the top has all the shit from the hotel neatly collected on it.
One wall has a pull-up bar near the ceiling and a fake flatscreen television on top of a short and wide bookcase. The shelves are filled with--WOW!!--books! Jason Todd reads! They are unfortunately all fake, but the titles are all worldly Earth classics. Jason Todd reads Pride and Prejudice. It's there. The adjacent wall has an assortment of fake display cases housing a variety of equally fake weaponry: guns, short swords, knives, you name it. Around them are framed posters of edgy motorcycles and American muscle cars.
The far wall has the only single window, a small thing that looks past a fire escape out onto a nighttime cityscape. Skyscrapers, lights. There is too much pollution to see most of the stars, and the moon is peeking out from behind a building. There is also... a cone of light shining on the sky with the silhouette of a bat emblazoned in the center. Hm.
He turns the chair at the desk around so he can sit in it backward like a hooligan, folding his arms along the top.]
Yeah, they're fakes. Leclerc and I already spent a while bitching about it. Why? You read when you're not accusing other people of being suspicious and dangerous?
[ He looks over the books, all of which are nonsense and mean nothing to him, before looking around, making a face at the pull-up bar before glancing over at the window. ]
It certainly seems to suit you. It's very... Specific.
I don't have any criticisms. I saw my room and it seemed like a space that anyone would like. But coming in here, I can see that these are very carefully catered. Which is a little alarming.
Don't underestimate what weirdos want for entertainment. Especially if they're sociopaths.
[He watches Claude look at the weapon cases. He's not concerned, but only because they are stupid and fake. Not that he'd be worried Claude would get hurt. Just maybe handsy.]
Wish people paid me. Nah. Just a fan of sharp and pointy. And shooty, I guess.
[ If there is somewhere to sit other than the chair Jason is on, Claude will sit down there, otherwise he will sit on the bed and continue to look around.
[Claude can sit on his bed and be gay (no). Jason doesn't seem to mind so long as Claude is being a white person and putting feet on the bed or something.]
You know. I'm just a garbage man for the city. Nothing crazy. Clean up the place a little. It's a pretty crap job, but I'm not dead or living on the streets like when I was a kid, so I can't complain.
[Jason smirks about this because he thinks it's funny Claude is not TECHNICALLY wrong, but that his public service is definitely murdering criminals in cold blood. It's fine.
HE DIDN'T PUT HIS FEET ON THE BED, SO HE ISN'T WHITE.]
Hah. Yeah, sure. [In that "what a joke" way. The way he says this on the surface sounds like he thinks it's no big deal, but there is a level of detachment to it, like he's neatly putting a rug over an eyesore.] My mom was a drug addict, and my dad was a thief and a con-artist. They're both dead, though.
[WHY IS HE THE TYPE OF THE PERSON WHO DOES THE LET ME JUST CASUALLY TALK ABOUT AWFUL STUFF TO MAKE THE CONVERSATION AWKWARD? Hate him.]
They had plenty. A whole little block of organized crime and stuff. Gangs, things like that. If that's not up your alley, there's always a boys' home. Went there, too. Been in juvie once or twice. [Does Claude know what that is?] Juvenile Detention. It's when you're arrested, but you're a kid. Basically. Baby jail.
If all that fails, maybe the local billionaire playboy philanthropist will see you on the street and feel sorry for you because he thinks he can fix problems with his money.
[It is very clear Jason Todd is an extremely bitter person.]
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[ stares at him ]
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[He
GESTURES WITH ONE HAND AGAIN. And then starts leading Claude along. Well, if Claude follows. To the corner lot!]
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[ Hehe!
But he looks pretty pleased as he follows Jason. ]
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[JASON IS STUPID, BUT NOT THAT KIND OF STUPID.
Anyhow, Claude can see that his suitemate is Sylvain based on the starry portrait at the adjacent door. But Jason unlocks the door to his own room that's wedged at the corner of North. He holds the door and gestures dramatically again for Claude to get inside. Hope he is wowed by nothing.
It's about the worst bachelor room you would expect from an edgy city boy in his one room studio flat. The most surprising thing is--it's neat? Jason Todd is clean and, shockingly, organized. There's no mess, almost neurotically so.
The interior colors are muted and industrial, like greys, but there are a lot of clear instances of red--as if red is his favorite color, or something. The accents are all black. What do you know, it matches his top. Wild.
The bed is an iron-framed queen, just big enough to fit his stupid dorito body while also giving the impression he doesn't typically share. Just good ol' Jason Todd, alone. The sheets are red which is fitting, but after a while of looking at the room, it's evident it's because it's easier to hide blood stains with red. Probably. Nearby is a decent closet, the doors mirrored and expanding the depth of the room with illusion.
The desk is one that can be folded up against the wall to make more floor room; three guesses as to why a Bat needs extra space to move around. Right now, the desk is folded down, and the top has all the shit from the hotel neatly collected on it.
One wall has a pull-up bar near the ceiling and a fake flatscreen television on top of a short and wide bookcase. The shelves are filled with--WOW!!--books! Jason Todd reads! They are unfortunately all fake, but the titles are all worldly Earth classics. Jason Todd reads Pride and Prejudice. It's there. The adjacent wall has an assortment of fake display cases housing a variety of equally fake weaponry: guns, short swords, knives, you name it. Around them are framed posters of edgy motorcycles and American muscle cars.
The far wall has the only single window, a small thing that looks past a fire escape out onto a nighttime cityscape. Skyscrapers, lights. There is too much pollution to see most of the stars, and the moon is peeking out from behind a building. There is also... a cone of light shining on the sky with the silhouette of a bat emblazoned in the center. Hm.
Enjoy.]
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Anyway, the room doesn't surprise him too much—it looks pretty much like Jason if he were a room.
The books catch his eye however, and he wanders over. ]
Yours are illegible too? I thought it was just special torture for me.
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He turns the chair at the desk around so he can sit in it backward like a hooligan, folding his arms along the top.]
Yeah, they're fakes. Leclerc and I already spent a while bitching about it. Why? You read when you're not accusing other people of being suspicious and dangerous?
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[ He looks over the books, all of which are nonsense and mean nothing to him, before looking around, making a face at the pull-up bar before glancing over at the window. ]
It certainly seems to suit you. It's very... Specific.
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Specific. It’s a little similar to what I have back home. If you have something to say about it, just say it. Afraid of hurting my feelings?
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Could I even hurt your feelings? [ Bro?
Anyway, he just shrugs as he looks at him. ]
I don't have any criticisms. I saw my room and it seemed like a space that anyone would like. But coming in here, I can see that these are very carefully catered. Which is a little alarming.
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[Well. Maybe. He is just human. If the right buttons are hit.]
Yeah. They’re either trying to make us complacent, or they plan to use it to punish us if we get unruly. I don’t know.
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[ Anyway, noses over to his weapons case... Neat. ]
Are you a mercenary or something?
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[He watches Claude look at the weapon cases. He's not concerned, but only because they are stupid and fake. Not that he'd be worried Claude would get hurt. Just maybe handsy.]
Wish people paid me. Nah. Just a fan of sharp and pointy. And shooty, I guess.
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[ Glances back at Jason's gun. ]
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Both.
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Maybe you should advertise yourself as a mercenary and get paid then.
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A bit hard to do when you’re legally dead, but not impossible. The people who could buy me are the exact kind of people I hate the most.
So I’m just stuck between a rock and a hard place, not getting paid.
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[ If there is somewhere to sit other than the chair Jason is on, Claude will sit down there, otherwise he will sit on the bed and continue to look around.
I deeply wish he knew what an edgelord is. ]
How do you make use of your skills then?
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You know. I'm just a garbage man for the city. Nothing crazy. Clean up the place a little. It's a pretty crap job, but I'm not dead or living on the streets like when I was a kid, so I can't complain.
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[ Claude, not realizing that Jason cleans up criminals. Also, please stop assigning Claude white. ]
I guess you don't have a family to take care of you...?
[ Remembering that Jason is pretty young. ]
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HE DIDN'T PUT HIS FEET ON THE BED, SO HE ISN'T WHITE.]
Hah. Yeah, sure. [In that "what a joke" way. The way he says this on the surface sounds like he thinks it's no big deal, but there is a level of detachment to it, like he's neatly putting a rug over an eyesore.] My mom was a drug addict, and my dad was a thief and a con-artist. They're both dead, though.
[WHY IS HE THE TYPE OF THE PERSON WHO DOES THE LET ME JUST CASUALLY TALK ABOUT AWFUL STUFF TO MAKE THE CONVERSATION AWKWARD? Hate him.]
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That's a terrible thing to go through at a young age. [ Frowns. ] Your city didn't have a way of helping kids like you, I guess.
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If all that fails, maybe the local billionaire playboy philanthropist will see you on the street and feel sorry for you because he thinks he can fix problems with his money.
[It is very clear Jason Todd is an extremely bitter person.]
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In any case, the answer seems clear enough: the state failed kids like Jason. ]
That's a remarkably specific scenario. That last one.
[ Claude, on Wednesday: Bucky adopted Jason... ]
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Yeah. Well. It should be.
[NO, NOT BUCKY. DON'T MAKE BUCKY HIS PROBLEM. But still a white guy, though.]
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Would you consider going to another world?
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