audio | un: sparkler

[flashystyle]

[Amid the sounds of the Institute break room comes the noise of a crisp bagel being buttered, followed by a particularly bored drawl. With little elaboration to where this is coming from, a clearly very hard at work Dorian simply asks:]

Three points per round, and the first to three rounds wins. Foul for rhetoric, repetition, synonyms, and statements. No non sequiturs. Now, is anyone up for a game of questions?

Comments

[latkje]

Aren't the simple questions the trickiest to answer? "What are you doing with your life?" "When will you make something of yourself?" "Will you please stop making that noise?"

[ Yes, you can hear the quotation marks around those. ]

[flashystyle]

Isn't that rhetoric?

[Don't mind his satisfied bite of his bagel.]

[latkje]

[ Still nothing but crystaline silence and the tilt of Nash's voice. ]

If the question was in earnest?

[ A pause.] Or is that questions?

[flashystyle]

[Oh, it's infuriating. He nearly slips to a statement, but his tone quickly becomes more questioning.]

Do you usually insist you're so earnest?

[latkje]

[ He laughs— a real open-mouth laugh, or at least, that's what it sounds like. ]

What would my missus say if I wasn't?

[ Hmmm. ]

But if that was too rhetorical, wouldn't you have just given yourself a point? Aside: what's the thrill of a questioning game if you can't ask the big ones?

[flashystyle]

The thrill is in winning. I'm feeling it right now, as I'm giving myself a point.

[A missus! How disappointing, after such a nice laugh. There's a hint of contradictory disappointment, but it doesn't last.]

Am I asking too much of a small mind?

[latkje]

[ Well, he says he's married, anyway… ]

Do you mind too much when things are small?

[flashystyle]

Are we still talking about minds?

[latkje]

[ Brightly: ]

Is that where yours went?

[flashystyle]

Should it have gone anywhere else?

[latkje]

Are you accusing me of leading you on?

[flashystyle]

Are you leading me on?

[latkje]

Are you like a cat that must chase at every string?

[flashystyle]

Do you not like cats?

[latkje]

Do you take me for a mouse? [ He sounds like he's thinking that over. ] Do I squeak, sir?

[flashystyle]

[Damn it, he has him there. Dorian's too busy trying not to laugh that that he loses his window to reply. And, in the end, he winds up audibly chuckling. What a loss.]

Alright, you can have that point. Though, you could look like a mouse- I wouldn't know.

[latkje]

Maybe to a cat… [ There's a note of frustration in his voice, followed by a sigh. Animals like him too much. It is an ongoing trial. ]

But I haven't got whiskers.

[flashystyle]

No? You'd probably resemble more a nug, then. Do you know what those look like?

[latkje]

Are we starting the question game again? [ Because he doesn't know what those look like. ]

[flashystyle]

Can you send a picture of yourself?

[They are definitely still playing, but there's paper rustling in the background.]

[latkje]

Will you give me a sec?

[ Footsteps, then silence, then more footsteps. And then, a voice: ]

Is this what you mean?

[ Attached is a picture of the word "yourself", written in fairly neat, looping cursive. ]

[flashystyle]

[Dorian really anticipated a nice photo of Nash, but he won't give him the satisfaction of hearing him laugh again. It's muffled this time. Take that.]

Do you take joy in tormenting me?

[latkje]

[ Tbf, Nash isn't 100% convinced that cameras don't steal souls, or something. ]

Isn't that the point of this game?

[flashystyle]

[He's denying Dorian selfies because of that? Clearly losing a soul is worth it?]

Are you sure you don't want to indulge me?

[latkje]

Hmmmm.

[ Like he's mulling it over. ]

What do those nugs of yours look like?