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

[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?

[flashystyle]

Do you truly want to know how I envision you without a picture?

[Without waiting for an answer, he attaches the following. Yes, it's in crayon.]

[latkje]

How did you know?

[flashystyle]

How could I miss such unspeakable beauty?

Ah, damn. I suppose that's a point to you, and your... fantastic looks. Will you truly never show me?

[latkje]

Are you really that curious?

[ There's a vague rustling sound. Fabric, or... ? Then the video feed turns on. Nash brings a hand to his chin, unhurried, almost framing his face. ]