Headcount

[turbedon]

[A far too cheerful sounding voice pipes up over the Network, the owner of it nowhere to be found in Liminal Space in a rather telling way.]

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking-

Everyone okay? Anyone gone missing after the last Jaunt?

... Any newcomers we need to get off the brainway asap? Because just arriving and then being run over would really not be astrous. At all.

Comments

[turbedon]

That sound ominous.

[backwordscompatible]

[Says the boy behind the mask.]

Can't let you hog all the mystery and suspense, can I?

[turbedon]

[His mask is perfectly friendly thank you very much.]

Fine, fine. I'll let you keep one mystery for yourself.

[backwordscompatible]

[Ominously friendly.]

How gracious of--

[The worst part about telepathy was that you literally ended up saying the first thing that came to mind; the word was already out of her mouth before she realized. And abruptly sat up.]

...sorry.

That came out wrong.

[turbedon]

It's fine, I'm pretty graceful. [Deliberate deflection is deliberate, mental voice full of false cheer.]

Gonna go take another turn over the roads to pick up anyone stranded. Enjoy your relaxation!

[backwordscompatible]

[She decided to leave things at that, less she accidentally stick her mental foot in her mouth again.]

Already am.

Enjoy picking up hitchhikers. Word of advice: if any of them are wearing hockey masks or wielding giant axes, I say leave 'em there.

[turbedon]

See, that's just judging a book by its cover.

Robin out.