lostcarnival | [open] bro bro bro bro

Entry tags:

[open] bro bro bro bro

Who: Rhys and you!
When: D48-D49
Where: Various Locations
What: It's time for Rhys to make himself at home (or more likely whine that he's not the boss)
Warnings: Probably low but I'll update if anything happens

[day 48 - all around the carnival grounds - what have i gotten myself into?]

Rhys doesn't regret the decision. He doesn't regret taking a deal from some shady Ringmaster (and he hates that he'd never thought of that as a nickname for himself) to escape August and Vasquez and a bunch of killer robots that would have surely ended his life.

What he does regret is leaving Vaughn behind. Fiona and Sasha less so. But, there's still a sliver of sadness that he's here and they're not. Hopefully, whenever this whole thing ends, he'll go back and they'll forgive him.

(Though he seriously doubts that. They'll either be dead or they'll kill him.)

For the first little while, he wanders. He gets his shoes dusty (a development that makes him frown) and his hair wind blown but what else is there to do but figure things out? His lodgings, a trailer in a park surrounded by similar metallic bumps, isn't luxurious but it's not a hole in the ground.

He'll take it. He'll whine about it later.

[day 49 - anywhere that needs cleaning up around the carnival - where's a loader bot when you need one?]

Rhys regrets the decision.

As soon as he reports for work and someone slaps a mop into his hand, he regrets the decision. Janitor. A janitor again. Somewhere, Vasquez is probably laughing his ass off. The only good thing, Rhys guesses, is that whoever's in charge isn't Vasquez and won't be making him run all over the place to do menial things.

He still has to clean though and the grimace on his face as he starts mopping a dirty floor is evidence of what he thinks about that. But, he tells himself it won't be for very long. He tells himself that time will pass quickly.

He tells himself that he can drown himself in his mop bucket if it gets too bad.

Mopping isn't a hard think to do but he still mops over various people's shoes instead of telling them to move and he steps all over his own freshly cleaned floors more than once.

The third time he does that, he curses loudly and then looks around, hoping no one's heard that. He hasn't memorized all the rules but he's pretty sure cursing on the job is frowned upon.

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Carly, is perhaps a blessing (or a multicoloured curse) for poor Rhys' work, and those reasons are...well, many in the case of the latter. Being the Wardrobe manager, it means that her tent is probably going to be some measure of 'off limits' half the day, and when it isn't it's absolutely littered with scraps of fabric and glitter, along with careful instructions of what terrible nonsense pile of 'Stuff' is Totally and Absolutely not to be touched.

But on the plus, she cannot ruin the same floors that Rhys is ruining for himself. At least not by walking on them-not when she's constantly hovering three inches off the ground (and as if she needed that extra few inches, with her legs already putting her at a good 6 foot 2-!).

...On the...Not so plus, she totally heard that curse, and has now totally met his eyes during the frantic looking around. Carly pauses, her tongue still stuck out and into her coffee mug, brown mixing oddly with the yellow appendage being used as a straw. "Euuuu.... ....H'rro?"

Look it's hard to say anything when your tongue is the straw-

Somewhere in his childhood, Rhys is pretty sure that one of his parents probably told him not to stare. But, that bit of parental advice has gone right out the window when he realizes that someone's heard him, someone's watching him mop, and that someone is stirring a liquid with her tongue.

"Why are you doing that?" Rhys can't stop himself from asking, a slight grimace on his face. "Don't they stock spoons around this place? Barring that, why not..."

He trails off and then makes a motion with his finger. Between the fact that she's apparently a giant and she's stirring whatever's in that mug with her tongue, Rhys is a little taken aback.

Guess it's good he has a mop since it'll be a good distraction if he has to toss it at her and run.

"HEH?" To that, her tongue promptly retracts. Stirring? Did it look like stirring? (The answer, is yes, but she's not even realized that's what he's talking about.) "A spoon?! Why would I drink my coffee with a spoon!?" she starts, only then catching the last moments of the finger motion.

"What?" ...Oh. Stirring. Well she'll ignore that anyway, adjusting her wings. Really, if it wasn't for these bird legs, she'd probably be shorter than him.... ....Gotta love what an extended pair of feet Does. "...Well whatever. It's just easier to drink this way-like a straw, you know?" And with that....it's back in the mug. "Th'o... ...'U nu?"

That would be, 'so...you new?', probably.

Thankfully he heard the Foreman was a rather chill person. Even when things went sour he had learned from word of mouth that he hadn't punished any of his workers who had broken a few rules at one of the stops. It seems his own boss was more of the to the point with lessons than the Foreman.

That being said, those are some rather expensive shoes that Rhys just ran his mop over and the owner noticed almost instantly. There's no scowl, no crude remark or threat that comes from him. He picks his words, going for more veiled threats than anything else. His panther ears atop his head slide backwards, his eyes turn towards him to look him over, and his long panther tail behind him curls with a faint lash. He's not in his Victorian best today but the pants and shirt are still made of the highest material from home. Tyki practically screams money.

Still, his coffee cup hits the table with a soft clink as he sets down the notes he was reading and he leans back in that chair casually yet with an air of importance. His heel slides his chair over to face him and he grins wide. Time to mess with the fresh meat because he sure as hell hasn't seen his face before.

"Maybe you should be a little more careful. Accidents can happen easily if you mop incorrectly, kid."

Edited (word) 2018-04-28 13:25 (UTC)

"You ever tried talking without sticking your....tongue in your drink?" Rhys asks, leaning against the mop and trying not to grimace. He's absolutely judging her though he's trying not to do it outwardly since she's the size of two of him and he really doesn't want to end up being kicked in the face with those...legs.

Rhys really regrets this decision. It's made and he can't go back on it now but what in the hell was he thinking? Is being CEO that important?

(Yes.)

After some careful parsing of her words, he finally figures out what she's asked him and answers, "Yeah, I'm new. The new janitor! That's me. I don't know why I'm doing this when I could be using my skills for other things but..."

But, he was mopping.

Rhys looks, a bitchy retort ready to go and it's nearly out of his mouth when he reins himself in, pulls back and swallows the words down. If this were Hyperion, he wouldn't have had any qualms about saying something sharp to someone he doesn't know because most of them are either robots or nerds who work in the IT department.

This man doesn't look like either of those. That doesn't mean Rhys doesn't want to say something and the turn of his lips, the frown on his face probably reflect tha pretty clearly.

"What are you talking about? I'm doing a great job," Rhys says, gesturing to the shiny, wet floors he's left in his wake. Sure, there are some footprints and he's mopped over some shoes but that only makes them shinier, in Rhys' opinion. "It's not my fault if someone doesn't pay attention and ends up slipping. I'm not making a secret out of what I'm doing."

It's as he wanders that Cole spots Rhys and Cole makes his way over towards the other man. Unlike some other carnival members, Cole still looks mostly human: the pink fleshy nug ears that poke through holes in his ridiculous hat are the most noticeable changes he's gained from the carnival. It's just a pity that the rest of Cole's entire being radiates 'weird hobo'. He's wearing fingerless gloves with all the fingers hacked off at different lengths, brown trousers that look like they have a week's worth of dust on them, and a shirt that he put on backwards.

And Cole is just staring at Rhys. He had been going back to his trailer, just to be there for a moment, when he spotted the new person and the new thoughts. He takes a few steps closer as he looks over Rhys, ears twitching all the while.

"You're new," he plainly states. No shit, Cole.

( ooc: please fill out Cole's permissions post b/c he's an infomodding creep & I don't want to step on any toes! c: )

Tyki was a conman by trade within the carnival just as much as a magician. Body language told him more than words could and already he's noticing the way his frown graces his face or that pent up need to say or do something.

"Such cheek," he replies instantly, his hands reaching down to lightly brush against his shoes. His hand presses hard and his palm smears the water in a glide as his Power to Choose activates. As if the material has separated from the water itself, it drips off his hand and his shoes are left good as new.

He rises from his chair, now prowling forward towards the other in a loose stride, "No, it wouldn't be your fault at all. Nor would it really be mine if you slipped had I gotten offended at you ruining something you couldn't even afford to replace." Tyki's very good at making murder seem like an accident, "Thankfully, I have enough patience for new pups."

Rhys' hands tighten on the handle of the mop though he doesn't know why. He's never had any sort of combat training because he hadn't thought it necessary. He pretty much thought he'd rise to the top of the Hyperion food chain and then have an army to do his bidding.

Vasquez had messed all that up and now Rhys was here, wondering if he wished hard enough, would he be able to suddenly know some sort of martial art that utilized a mop. Maybe the fact that Handsome Jack was currently residing in his head would give him an edge.

As if Jack could hear him (which he could), Rhys heard a hollow, hysterical laugh in his head. He had to resist the urge to smack his ear to get it to stop.

Rhys is pretty proud of himself for not immediately trying to retreat though especially when whoever this is seems to just...lift the water away from his shoe. He feels a mixture of fear and a sudden need to make nice with this person.

"I'm not a pup," Rhys says, trying to sound steady, tough. "And last I checked, mopping someone's shoes, which I'm not saying I did, wasn't a crime worthy of being...whatever you were just threatening to do to me. I'm pretty sure I have rights, even here! Even while I'm holding a mop."

Rhys jumps because this guy just appeared in front of him. It's more likely that he'd walked over and Rhys just hadn't been paying attention rather than just suddenly being there. Rhys rubs at his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart and takes a calming breath.

"Am I? Wow, I hadn't realized that," Rhys says, sarcasm heavy in his voice. He's pretty sure that there's a shine to him, some indication that he's new because this isn't the first time someone's told him that he's new. He's checked his shirt for a nametag a few times.

"Does that mean you're not new?" Rhys guesses. "Are you the welcome wagon?"

"....." Well, she just pulls her tongue back out, back into her mouth, and answers- "....I mean...you can just ask someone not to do that if you find it's rude, I'm not just going to ignore that..!" She just didn't think it was rude. She does this all the time, so clearly it's fine.

That or people just really want her to make clothes. But hey. She seems encouraging enough, the light coming off of her growing a little brighter as she smiles. Mopping? Clearly nothing to worry about! "Mnnh~ Well, everyone starts somewhere~! Maybe the Ringmaster just needs some proof of your skills? We're being more careful about who's hired these days!" she adds, nodding furiously. "Even the debt conditions have changed!"

Rhys was in for a rude awakening when it came to carnival. He'll have to employ some very deep basic skills of running for cover if he couldn't fight. Then again, others seemed to manage just fine without them. Tyki on the other hand was excellent at hand to hand combat.

His grin cracks and he barks out laughing, "Threatening? No, no. I was merely warning you for the future, as a courteous welcoming gesture, pup." A name he's going to keep calling him just because he doesn't like it. And yes, he was kind of threatening him but unless Rhys has been hiding in a hole somewhere he's assuming he's new, "Rights? I suppose you do. The right to breathe, work, and eat."

"Of course not," Cole responds, as if it's the most obvious thing. "I'm not a wagon."

He's the welcome Cole instead. But as he looks at Rhys, Cole's odd empathy and dumb spirit bullshit comes into play. This Rhys feels like two people? Or a person and a half. This is all a bit odd and the mechanics of artificial intelligence are lost on Mr. Fantasy Canon over here so he doesn't really know how best to ask this.

"This Lambert is like the Lambert I knew. But you're nothing like my Rhys." One of the perils of knowing people with the same name as people in canon. "There's more of you!"

Now, this is more interesting. This is information that he can actually maybe use to climb the corporate ladder, so to speak. This vaunted Ringmaster can't be any worse or any scarier than Handsome Jack and Rhys had handled him pretty well. Jack had chosen his head to download into so that was proof of his worth, wasn't it? Rhys thought so.

"What's with the caution?" Rhys asks, mopping at the same spot over and over again under the guise of working while he listens. "Why would you be stingy about who you hire to wash your floors and toss your trash out?"

He realizes that he's inadvertently insulting himself but he tries not to draw attention to that fact. "What do you do? Are you the official dishwasher? You do that with your tongue too?"

"Oh, not that part~!" Carly laughs, waving a hand. "It's a matter of not wanting to force anyone into a debt when we're being chased around by court fae, you know? It's too dangerous to just bring anyone who broke a game-stand in for a year of cleaning duty..! Let alone performance, or treasury, or..."

...And just as soon as she starts, she quickly clams up, going quite cold. He might have gone just a bit far with that last remark, given how swiftly the humor and joy drains out from her voice. "Hardly," she starts, frowning. "...Are you this rude to everyone you meet? I bet that if you were this rude to the Ringmaster, that might have actually been behind your assignment."

She's a bit touchy about what her tongue does or does not do, apparently.

"So, if I'm a pup," Rhys says, grimacing about the fact that he's just used that stupid nickname, "does that make you some mother dog? The matriarch who looks out over everyone else and makes sure they get their nourishment?"

As comebacks go, it's not the best but Rhys isn't really at the top of his game considering he's been hired on as a freaking janitor and he doesn't even have cool powers like this guy does. Sure, he has his eye, he has his arm but that's no good unless he wants to know information about this person.

Which...might be a good idea especially if this whole thing escalates. Maybe his ECHO eye would show him some hidden weakness that could give him a leg up. Or maybe it'd just provide him stupid song lyrics.

"Why aren't you working? You don't own this place."

"You're not a wag -- no, that was sarcasm," Rhys says, shaking his head. How did someone not understand sarcasm? Even Vaughn understood sarcasm and Vaughn was sometimes pretty damn dense. Sarcasm made the world go round, made conversations interesting.

For a second, all Rhys can do is stand there and stare. And stare some more. He repeats the words this guy's just said to him, trying to find some meaning, trying to figure out what the hell he was saying so he could respond and not sound like an idiot but he was coming up empty.

"There's more of me?" Rhys repeats, frowning. "There's just me. I'm Rhys. I'm the only Rhys everyone needs. The Rhys you knew must have been an imposter. A pretender to the throne. I'm Rhys. And -- how did you even know that?"

Oh good, he's fine with that nickname. Welcome to Tyki's list.

"I have been told I like to bite those that mess with my own, but no," he says with a very low tone, "That would be the Warden." It's punctuated to be ominous, half for his own amusement, and half because he would rather no one made any trouble for Sans.

It does well to flatter Tyki's ego in any case. His heels click softly against the ground, announcing his presence upon these shiny and wet floors, as he starts to circle around Rhys instead of standing still or getting any closer.

"I don't clean floors, pup. And I'm not needed as a Magician for at least another hour or so." As for his second job, the Acquisitioner bid them not to steal or con at the moment.

"The Rhys I know is my friend," Cole states, with a bit of a grumpy frown on his face. An impostor? That's silly. His Rhys was Rhys, he knows that much. This Rhys is odd.

"But he's just Rhys. You're Rhys and more. More mind, more thoughts, more hurts. But I don't know what it is." And that's something which is annoying Cole more than he wants to let on. Why does Rhys feel like Rhys and someone else? And where did that someone else come from?

Cole's so wrapped up in his own questions that he doesn't answer Rhys's question about how he knew his name (though the answer is spirit memory bullshit.)

Unlike many of the other Carnival staff, 9S hasn't developed as many (or as dramatic) changes; all that's noticeaby obvious is the pair of cat ears on his head and chicken feathers weaved through his hair. At the back of his head and mostly hidden by his hair is a vicious looking cut lined with pointed teeth bisecting his head. His cat eyes are likewise hidden by the visor he wears over his eyes. Also, he's currently wearing the stupid shirt Lambert bought for him.

During performance week, there isn't too much for him to do if there's no repairs to be done. Well, that, and his repairs job is his less liked job. So when he comes across a new face cleaning, he stops and watches for a while, his robot buddy, Pod 153, hovering at his shoulder.

"Are you trying to clean?" 9S comments, cat ears twitching as he munches on popcorn. "Because it looks like you're getting the floor dirty."

Rhys doesn't even have time to process the fact that she's just told him that, in the past, someone who broke a carnival game was made to do manual labor to make up for it. That sounds unfair, cruel, and exactly like something Jack would have enforced back on Hyperion and something Rhys would have agreed with especially if he wasn't one of those being forced to work.

He doesn't have time to think too much about that because her whole demeanor changes and Rhys arches an eyebrow at the sudden change. "What was rude about that? It was a simple question. I'm trying to learn."

He just wasn't the world's most sensitive person. Maybe he needed to work on that. Maybe this would be the change he needed or maybe he'd just keep on being an asshole.

"I'm curious," he admits. "I haven't seen something like that before."

Rhys is going to have to find something, anything, that he can shove under his pillow at night to sleep with. This guy's talking about biting people and Rhys really doesn't want to wake up with fingers missing. The mop, obviously, won't fit under the pillow but maybe he can break it, carve it into something sharp.

"You're a Magician?" Rhys asks, trying not to sound jealous that he had a cool job and Rhys was stuck mopping floors and cleaning up after people. What a gyp. He had tons of other skills but no, the Ringmaster apparently had a bit of Vasquez in her and was going to make him actually work.

"Is that because you can do that thing with water and your shoes?" Shoes that were pretty nice, Rhys notices. Shoes that Rhys would have bought for himself but there didn't seem to be a huge variety of stores around here.

"Rhys and more?"

Automatically, Rhys wants to think that means he's meant for more than this. That this guy's seeing the potential in him and not the artificial intelligence that's currently lurking in his head, kicking the sides of his skull and singing stupid songs. No one's been able to see Jack before so Rhys just bypasses that as a possibility.

"Well, that's pretty nice of you to say," Rhys says, preening a bit. "Not necessarily the part about the hurts because, well, that sounds ominous but I am more. More than this mop is making me appear. I'm meant for bigger, better things, you know? I'm smarter, cleverer and just plain better than what you're seeing right now. I shouldn't be mopping shit up."

The immediate criticism of his cleaning skills makes Rhys' hackles rise. No matter the fact that this person is right and that his mopping ability isn't the greatest, he's still trying and isn't that supposed to be important.

From inside of his head, unable to be heard by anyone but Rhys, Jack snickers and says, "Yeah right, kid. You want a medal for trying? Are you five? Are you a child? Gonna go cry to mommy because someone said something bad to you?"

Rhys grimaces and swats at the side of his head, trying to get Jack to shut up so he could focus on who'd just spoken. "The floor's not dirty."

It was wet. It was slippery and there were some...dirty spots but it wasn't overall dirty.

"You think you could do better?"

Don't worry, Rhys. Tyki doesn't really bite. He just rips hearts and organs from bodies with his bare hands. Besides, the Warden wouldn't allow that kind of thing and the Ringmaster had a really strict rule in place to keep him tame.

"I am," he responds with such a simple answer. It's a good distraction to keep focusing on him and not himself. Tyki loves to talk. "One of two Magician's within the carnival actually. But yes, it is because of my magic that I have been granted this job. It's more than just the water and my shoes."

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