Rappel du premier message :

CONTRAT DE NOT'RP !

- Statut du RP : privé i guess ? :d
- Tour de jeu : //
- Délai maximum d'attente de réponse : hmm, deux semaines ?
- Autre : yes.

Don't you hate it when you wake up and end up not knowing where you are ?
I don’t. It’s one of my favorite pure bliss moment, actually ; you basically forget about everything that's a big deal. Like the fact that you are in a zombie apocalypse. Shit I remember that. Great, now it’s ruined.

… I still have no clue about this place though. No clue at all.

Although it does look like a living room, and an old-fashioned one that is ; chimney made of visible bricks, velvet curtains (there's a dusty beam of light passing throught, so I assume It’s morning – at least I know when I am) ; and a gloomy decoration (weird-ass looking portraits and two skulls in the shelves) ; did I mention the number of books in here ? No I didn’t because it would take a while to count them.

I left the bearskin carpet (where I was sitting) to get close to the shelves, I reached for one random book aaand… it was gibberish. I tried my luck with two more but they were also written in a foreign language. When I went to take a look out the window, the sight was poor as fuck. Only grass, that’s it. I couldn’t open the window, and I’m not dumb enough to break it, the smash could wake up the deads.

It was clearly a home, or maybe a mansion ; he’d have to explore it to know for sure.

I'm usually slow at waking up but, I’m little too conscious at this point to not remember anything related to this location and…an–

And he sneezed really loud. It was really dusty in here.

"Actually, I don't think it's safe to drive at all. There's two entities from two differents universes in the same car, this will probably lead too-- " he presses the gun against my neck. Alright, I guess I can't play silly with him. "You bastard come from where ?" "I come from Noreway." "Not talking to you shithead." I'm too airheaded right now. So I just drive where he tells me too. "And what about your fucking arm ?"

HRP:

Oh he is rude for sure. I sound exactly how I look now. I don't immediately register the fact that he's talking to me. That I am talking to me. So fucking strange... Me? The other Ryot gives me a look like I'm dumb. Of course me. If not Serah, then me. No one else is around. I'm from Manooine. The planet. And err... my arm got ripped off during a race so I replaced it.

HRP:

I giggle, oups, didn't mean too. "You laughing at who fucktard ?" "Not you, obviously." "Kick him, Riot." What. "Kick him, don't let him laugh at you." "I mean, it's the medecines, I'm feeling hig-- " "Kick 'im or I'll blow his head."

Wh-wh-what? What do I have to hit him? He just laughed. I don't mind. It doesn't bother me. It was probably worth a giggle if it made him laugh. Why am I getting so pissed about it? Um... I glance at Serah, then look down at my feet. But I can't move my legs over to kick him in a moving car. It's physically impossible.

"Use your damn hands or your head for something. Hurry the fuck up." "Just don't punch me in the face." "Pussies don't get to decide." "He just broke my nose earlier." Pussies are born to be hit." Asshole. I move my lips silently while looking discreetly at Riot, "not the face" I tell him. "Plus If I'm knocked out we might get into an accident."

But he said kick, didn't he? Not hit. I give Serah another glance. His nose was already broken, and his arms were busy steering our moving car. Not a lot of options here. I give him a weak punch on the thigh. It looks more like a pat from where the other Ryot is sitting, probably, but it's the best I can do. Pat on the thigh.

"Are you a goddamn faggot ?" I managed to keep myself from laughing this time. It's not specially funny, but it kinda is when you're lightheaded. At least he  removes the gun from my neck but he keeps gesturing with it while talking. "He makes fun of you and you can't even freaking kick him properly ?" Evil Riot seems to have problems with words too. "Turn right." Aren't we heading back to the mansion ?

I never really felt like Serah made fun of me. Maybe he did, but if he did I never noticed. Maybe I just don't care. Maybe I'm too dumb to get it. Either way it don't bother me. Doesn't. It doesn't bother me. The rest of the trip is silent, except for Other Ryot's growls and swear words. He seems more talkative than me. I wonder if he's also into racing.

HRP:

Poor Serah. This place must bring about a lot of bad memories. He acted all crazy when he was in this building. The fresh air did him good. The town did him good. I'm not sure returning here is a good idea. I wanna tell Other Ryot that maybe we should leave Serah in the car (like a kid ???), but I keep my mouth shut. Pretty sure he'd shoot Serah instead of me if I said something he didn't like. Serah's the one that tends to get hurt by the looks of it. Not me.

I stare back at him. His angry face. The burned skin around his eye. The way the corners of his mouth stretch down instead of up. His frightening lack of facial hair. It's very unusual to be confronted to yourself this way. Different than a mirror. Oh. No thanks.

I shrug. Don't really care though. Other me seems bitter. The laughs never bothered me, personally. Most people don't laugh at the stutters anyway. They think I'm biting my tongue cause I want to kill 'em or they find me threatening. It bothers me more when they think I'm that violent guy that randomly touches females' asses and looks for fights voluntarily. Not that guy, me.

Can you do that? Turn people evil? I don't think you can. Maybe with brainwashing. Or by wrongful education. Hm, maybe you can, yes. But I'm a bit too old to get re-educated, no? Not too old for brainwashing though. I wonder what Serah's planning. He must know that if his plan incorporates me acting evil, it'll go terribly wrong.

If I had known what Serah was thinking, I couldn't have done more than approve his words. Pigs would fly by the time I was evil. Although... perhaps I just need a good acting coach? My gaze shifted from Serah to my lookalike and back. Um... do we have to stay here? This house wasn't the best choice of scenery for Serah. He'd have trouble concentrating here, that much I knew.

He glances at him nastily, then pulls out a phone to probably set in the chronometer. I sigh deeply and lean against the table. Maestro, insert the eye of the tiger song please. "Alright..... let's do this." I stare at him with a disgusted look. "You suck, Riot." I'm warming up here, shut up you.

Oh. Fine, then. Wait, is he talking to me or to the other me? This is a tad too confusing for me, if I get to be honest. I scratch my head, confused as to what even brought me into this situation. Maybe it's all just a weird post-drinking dream. They tend to be weird, those. Maybe I ate something bad. This couldn't be real, after all.

HRP:

Don't give up easily, coach. How can you clash someone who doesn't respond, seriously ? I'm a douch, yeh, but not this much. "I bet your mum was as ugly as you." 'still warming up. I can do this. I think. Maybe. Might have overestimated my powers. I don't know anymore. Come on Serah, you gonna die if you don't wake up the beast inside of him.

HRP:

Ah, the mom comments. Heard those all before too. "DJEEZES KRAIST ON A STICK OF CHEESE. Yer mum must be an ABOMINATION." "Hope you ain't got a sister, coz' she fuglier than a space crow, bruh." Don't even get me started on the yo momma jokes. Never understood it, really. I mean, me being ugly is a (un)lucky strike of DNA gone bad. My mom looks fine. She's not half bad though, apparently. I answered, shrugging.

HRP:

Something mean. Something mean. I can think of plenty of mean shit. That's not the problem. (You're bound to pick up a thing or two living on Manooine). I just don't really want to be mean. Serah's a pretty decent guy compared to most folk that I hang out with. If you can call it "hanging out". The other me is relatively different on that account, but... You know he's a guy. I tell him. Don't deliberately change his pronoun. 'Xcept if that's what he wanted, of course. What do I know.