50: You have got to be kidding.

[yourunichase]

No. No. [A clang here, because Parker has thrown the communicator where it bounced against her bed, giving a sideways view of Parker in a now too tight (and torn) suit. When she speaks, it's in an angry, smarmy tone.]

No. No. You have got to be fucking kidding me. After the fucking fear gas, now this. No. Fuck. Anyone but him.

[Parker screams for pretty much the entire sixth level to hear, and then she kicks her bed and is rewarded with a further tearing sound in her suit before she looks and realizes that the communicator is still on.]

God damn it!

[She stalked over to it and looked into it for a second.]

Fuck this place.

Comments

Private.

[yourunichase]

Has that ever fucking worked for this shit before?

Private.

[lazarusrisen.livejournal.com]

Not that I can think of. Still won't stop me from trying, though.

Private.

[yourunichase]

We can always tie him up somewhere with the people he fucking knows and force him too. Maybe that'll work.

Uh... I'm sorry I stabbed you.

Private.

[lazarusrisen.livejournal.com]

Sounds good with me.

Don't worry about it. You were hopped up on the fear gas.

Private.

[yourunichase]

Yeah, so were you.

When this is done, we need to get fucking drunk and play cards like we fucking used too.

Private.

[lazarusrisen.livejournal.com]

A-fucking-men.

Private.

[yourunichase]

Damn right.