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text . open spam . 2nd attack
Free stuff outside level 7 cabin 2. I don't want it.
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[She's still feeling the lingering aches from being ill, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. She has a few good meals in her and too much energy to just sit there. She wants to know what happened. Did any of them make it? Are they all dead? How did Colonel Finley feel about it?
And the sight of her own bedroom appalls her.
So she drags out big plastic bins from her closet and starts tossing stuff inside.
Snow globes and fancy headbands. Old clothes. Who needs that many tops? A lamp that doesn't work. A collection of smooth stones; a glass bottle fused shut.
Beaded bracelets. (Except for one that reads BEST, because she knows who had the other one, who had the half that read FRIENDS and for a few minutes she stares at it, unable to move.) Cheap stuffed animals. A whole series of trophies from hockey. A plastic unicorn filled with layers of colored sand. Old ugly sweaters and figurines and half-used collections of colored pencils. Hand-dipped candles, irregular and bulging and leaning noticeably to the side.
She keeps all her books.
She throws away baskets of souvenir paperweights and keychains and cheap jewelry.
And she drags it all out into the hallway, leaving it there in piles.]
[ spam ]
[She's still feeling the lingering aches from being ill, but she doesn't pay any attention to it. She has a few good meals in her and too much energy to just sit there. She wants to know what happened. Did any of them make it? Are they all dead? How did Colonel Finley feel about it?
And the sight of her own bedroom appalls her.
So she drags out big plastic bins from her closet and starts tossing stuff inside.
Snow globes and fancy headbands. Old clothes. Who needs that many tops? A lamp that doesn't work. A collection of smooth stones; a glass bottle fused shut.
Beaded bracelets. (Except for one that reads BEST, because she knows who had the other one, who had the half that read FRIENDS and for a few minutes she stares at it, unable to move.) Cheap stuffed animals. A whole series of trophies from hockey. A plastic unicorn filled with layers of colored sand. Old ugly sweaters and figurines and half-used collections of colored pencils. Hand-dipped candles, irregular and bulging and leaning noticeably to the side.
She keeps all her books.
She throws away baskets of souvenir paperweights and keychains and cheap jewelry.
And she drags it all out into the hallway, leaving it there in piles.]
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[A little hostile. Her hair is roughly pulled back, her hands on her hips. She appears in the doorway.]
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[ She's very young. ]
Uh. Ollo. I'm Megamind. A warden here. I don't think we've met before.
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I'm Ellie.
[ Her tone is flat. Inmate will probably be obvious, she thinks. ]
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[ He glances to the piles of things ]
But this--
This seems like things you'd think you'd keep.
[ He still has the bunny in hand. ]
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If you want anything, take it. It's just junk.
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[ He set the bunny down, king of a pile, and then drew his De-Gun and fired on it; the pile sparkled and collapsed into a cube. He leaned over, then, and picked it up. ]
I can do that, see? And it's nice and compact. [ And reversible. ]
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She remembers Robyn vanishing. ]
...so now no one can have it?
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It's in the cube. We can get it back.
[ Anytime she wants. ]
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Fine. At least it'll be easier to take.
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I'll--
If you ever find you want anything back, let me know.
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[ She doesn't need any help. She's fine.
She just wants her friends. That's all.
Her arms cross, a bit defiant. ]
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