SIX.

[failhound]

• VIDEO •

[yet another post with no violence done to the communicator! has the apocalypse--

never mind. anyway the owner is currently strolling along the streets, it looks like; you can just catch glimpses of empty shopfronts]

--nice of her to lend me clothes, but I can't keep her brother's stuff forever. This place looks a lot smaller than the last time...

[after a moment, the view swings up as Nora (so he thinks) clicks the communicator on so he's not (presumably) talking to himself -- he's also wearing a new set of clothes... that aren't his] Hey, the shops didn't get fixed at all! They're still all trashed, the hell's up with that? Where'm I supposed to--

[a crackle of static. suddenly, it's raining lions. ... or rather. whatthefactor.]

[--it's a fucking huge lion, thank you very much: CRASH.]

... MOTHERFU--

[annnnd Nora lands on the communicator]

[OOC: Commentloggin' with Sho. Feel free to mock him mercilessly over the network, though there'll be an IC delay getting back to you. :p]

Comments

[Commentlog!]

[brbmodernizing]

Do not sniff it..

[stares. stares more. leans his spear against the wall and moves for the door.]

I suppose I will leave you at that, then.

[Commentlog!]

[failhound.livejournal.com]

Shut up.

[It's an automatic response, and he just sort of waves his hand dismissively as he's focused on prodding at the ointment and trying to figure out whether it's useful or not.

He'll be more or less fine, at any rate; at least the monster swarms won't get at him here.]

[Commentlog!]

[brbmodernizing]

Until next time.

[SHUTTING THE DOOR BEHIND HIM. Gosh kids these days.

Also he waits a moment before heading to the morgue where he's staying. :T Yup hopefully Nora never finds out.]