Introductory Temporal Transportology

[bedheaded]

[A man is stuck in the streets of London. He has an amazing I-don't-care-about-my-hair-because-that's-how-cool-I-am hairstyle, $300 dollar Italian jeans, and I dare you to ask the thread count on that shirt, the first few buttons of which have been carelessly left unbuttoned. That's right. The hipsters have arrived. Also, he is holding a blackberry.]

[Clothing aside, he is not acting all that hip. He speaks with very broad hand gestures and a moderately manic expression.]

What the hell is this? When did we go Sherlock Holmes? Abed, are you doing a 'themed episode' [he doesn't need physical air quotes: he can do it with his voice] again? Because if you are, I need to know how the hell you pulled this off so it never happens again! [He stares at his Blackberry in incredulity, and here comes the last straw.] And why isn't my phone getting any signal?

[A choked scream of frustration, and he kicks a nearby crate.] This doesn't make any sense!

[Someone stop him before he finds an axe.]

Comments

[theworst]

[she returns a completely sarcastic hug, giving him a pat on the back and everything, because she's cool and hip and doesn't need comfort or whatever, she's totally independent and strong and fine and oh god, she missed him. She holds on a little longer than she should, before ending the hug, but she still holds onto his wrist even when she stops hugging]

I do have a habit of taking in strays, so what the hell. It's better than seeing you go into a hipster douche funk.

[bedheaded]

I'm sorry, what was that? I was too distracted by your special modification of Victorian clothes to make you look cooler. Why aren't you wearing a tophat, Britta? Afraid it will ruin your hair more?

[theworst]

You think I'm afraid to wear a hat? I'll show you who's afraid to wear a hat and then I will watch you eat your stupid dumb words.

[she looks around and then spots a guy that she figures she can take or flirt with if he objects. She goes over and standing on tip toes grabs the hat off of a stranger's head. She puts it on her own head, and smiles smugly at Jeff]

There, happy? And I bet it looks damn cute, too, not that I care at -

[she stops as she feels the stranger grab his hat off of her head and walk away in an indignant huff, muttering about uncouth foreigners]

[Britta shrugs at Jeff like it's not big thing]

I don't care.

[bedheaded]

[Oh no, guess who got his shit-eating grin back.] I'm really glad you don't care. That will make it easier for me to get you a hat as thanks for rescuing me in my time of need.

[theworst]

[reclaiming his wrist with one hand while he gets an angry pointy hand with the other]

You are not getting me a hat!

[sourface laughs uneasily]

I mean, I don't care, whatever. Get me a hat. [smug challenging smile] I'll wear it every day.

[bedheaded]

I'm sorry, Britta. What do you want me to get you? I wouldn't want to get you a present you wouldn't enjoy.

[theworst]

I want you to get me whatever you want to get me. I will cherish whatever it is every day, because it's a gift from my very good friend.

[bedheaded]

You are so sweet. I'll spend a lot of time picking this gift out.

[theworst]

I'm sure you will, and I'll spend even more time loving it because it came from you.

[bedheaded]

That's my colourful bag of Brittles. By the way, where are we going? I know it's hard not to follow my lead, but I don't know this city at all, and my phone can't pick up Google Map anymore. So I have literally no idea where I'm going or what I'm looking for.

[theworst]

Then it's a good thing you took that accounting class so you're prepared for living in the moment.

And we're looking for... [she looks around and then grabs a paper from another newsstand, shoving money at the vendor before grabbing Jeff and pulling him to a nearby bench to sit]

We're looking for a place to live. [she flips to the classifieds and shares the paper with him as she scans for anything that looks promising]

[bedheaded]

[He... frowns. At some of the advertisements.] Why does this one have reference to something called a 'Deep One'? Can that please be a term from the porn industry? [Because oh god he does not want to think about what else it might be.]

[theworst]

You...don't want to look at those. It's probably best if you just steer clear of them entirely.

Although, porn industry isn't too far off either.

[bedheaded]

I don't like the way you say that like whatever it is will make me wish it was more far off from the porn industry.

[His leg is lightly brushing against hers as they sit, for the record. This has nothing to do with Britta's displayed clinginess.]

How much is a pound worth these days? I don't want to think we've gotten a great deal at twenty pounds a month only to realize that will leave us selling organs to cover the difference.

[theworst]

Remember those tentacly alien guys? Well, there are some human hybrid ones, and they kind of really are into reproducing with humans, usually in disturbingly tentaclyrapey ways. I'd call it tentaraping, but having shorthand for something like that is almost grosser than the actual act itself.

I - um, [she thinks in her head, but she's never been the best with money, so it's not really doing much. She counts on her fingers, trying to think of expenses] Five pounds a week should cover our expenses for food. [she considers the two of them and how much they eat] We might even get away with three pounds a week for food, so twenty pounds a month doesn't sound like it's too bad for a place to live.

[bedheaded]

[He stares at her. Just. He just stares] That's a fact of life around here. That's something that is so common and so basic that it's in advertisements. "One bedroom, one bathroom, no parking space, and occasional half-human, half-octopus rapists for only three pounds a week!"

[He realizes he has gotten worked up again, but he isn't going to apologize for it. As far as he is concerned, anyone who doesn't get worked about that is in need of therapy. But he does make himself cool down.]

Right. Right. Okay. We'll look for something about twenty pounds a month.

[theworst]

I guess you could call it the granddaddy of craigslist.

[beat...beat...bad joke crash and burn]

Inappropriate, right? Definitely. Sorry.

[focusing on the paper now and trying to change the subject]

But yeah, yeah, twenty pounds should be enough I think, and if you get a lawyer job, we should be more than able to swing it.

[bedheaded]

[............................wow, Britta.] Britta? I know you know this by now, but I just want to remind you. You. Are the worst.

[Frowning at the paper.] Yeah, about a lawyering job. Getting credentials is going to be even easier than it was the first time I was a lawyer, but there's no way I can go in blind with everything I don't know about British law. Are there public libraries or something?

[theworst]

[she pouts, her shoulders squaring as she hunches in on herself defensively] Whatever. Excuse me for trying to have some levity. Maybe if you weren't so naturally severe you might know something about that.

[shrugs, still pouting and closing herself off] Yeah, I think so. We can go look for one after we go to look at that apartment.

[because even if she's a little annoyed and hurt, she still doesn't want to let Jeff out of her sight - even if she might never admit as much]

[bedheaded]

Sorry, did I hurt your feelings? Let me pin an apology to a Deep One for you.

[He highlights the apartment, and one more that he likes, and then folds up the paper.] Do you know where it is, or do we also need to find a map?

[theworst]

Pshaw, like you could ever hurt my feelings.

[she leans over his shoulder to look at what he picked out]

Please, I know this city like I knew the Lower East Side when I was living in New York. [she grabs his hand to pull him up again, heading towards where the first apartment is located]

[bedheaded]

You mean you can navigate it while stoned? Exciting. [And he is going along with it anyway.]

[theworst]

Oh yeah, that reminds me, if you're offered honey with anything, don't just accept it. Wait, what am I saying, you wouldn't anyway, because what would that do to your diet? But just in case you do decide to splurge one day, when they say honey they're talking about this sort of crazy weird dream tripping and sharing hallucinogenic stuff that's pretty popular and legal around here.

[bedheaded]

First of all, honey is better than sugar if you aw a sweetener, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. Second of all, we're talking... what. LSD sort of hallucinations? Shared?

[theworst]

Acid looks like kiddy tylenol compared to this stuff. I don't know how it works exactly, but if you take it with someone else you can share a dream with them. I think it comes from the crazy tentacley alien guys.