Hexadecimal is just like base ten, if you've been exposed to large amounts of nuclear radiation.
You quickly call him in for help. He asks for what, but you just say that it's important if he wants this done before nightfall. Protests a little more, but then buckles and enters your room. Your room is in quite a state. Your desk is covered with papers, tools and scattered gun parts. On your floor were scattered all your dirty clothes from the past however many days with the recent addition of a towel and some underwear. He frowned at you holding up the top of the dress as you asked him to zip you up. He did it regardless. No poker face on this one, already red as a beet. He wasn't a spy at least. So you lead him back out into the kitchen and take a seat on the counter looking down at him slightly. It was now nearly two hours to noon. He seemed a little bit less demure and collected than he had earlier. You want to smirk, but hold it back. As he begins to talk you [] Listen to what he has to say. [] Interrupt him and ask him for the short version. [] Make him feel even more uncomfortable somehow. Maybe closing the distance.
You ask him if he'd be a dear and find you a towel as you can't seem to find one yourself. He remains silent for a moment, then accedes and goes off to find one. Soon enough he's knocking on the door. You open the door a crack and slip a hand out to accept the towel. He hands it over quietly and you thank him. Minutes later you're nice and dry and wearing a fresh set of undergarments. As you peruse your limited wardrobe you realize that you've only got a single suit and a single dress. You contemplate putting on the suit for a more business like look, but upon inspecting it you realize it still has a few bullet holes in it. The dress it is. You slip it on, it's one of the few things you own that doesn't reek of gunpowder, it's also one of the few things you need help getting into. You're pretty much ready, just the back zipper remains, you might as well [] Ask him for some help. [] Take the extra time to do it yourself. [] Set up a claymore.
Sounds like the background of a Tennessee Williams character.
First things first, the gun's tummy has the rumblies that only bullets can satisfy. One custom extended mag of added weight later you feel much better. You tap your gun on your chin thoughtfully, you'll give him a chance to decide whether he lives or dies. Now it's time to put something on, maybe shower too. No reason to be prompt for a guy who broke into your home and stole your gun, even if he did give it back. Nobody touches the gun. So you drop what little you are wearing and step into your shower, lucky it's attached to the bedroom too, walking to the other door would make this plan a little weak. About ten minutes you're pretty much done showering. There are no towels in the bathroom, though. Maybe you should [] Go back into your room and find a towel there. [] Ask him to get a towel from the closet in the hall. [] Fire through the door. If he hasn't moved at all you'll likely blow his brains out.
That's happened before with someone else confusing us, unless it was you a while ago. I always feel like it's a huge compliment either way.
But I never posted in that thread. Are you talking about Styx's comment? I was just a little confused.
You walk over to the table and sit down across from him and tell him that you're ready to begin the appointment. He doesn't speak initially, instead he lets his gaze wander. When he's asked if he's got anything to say he asks you if you might change into something a little more modest. This is business after all. You insist that you aren't embarrassed in the slightest. He swallows noticeably and balks. He's lost this round, you go back and change, stopping on the way to pick up your gun. It's empty. Once in your room you've got to [] Choose what you're going to wear. Something nice preferably, something that'll take a while to get together maybe something he'll need to zip up for you. [] Load your gun and contemplate killing him some more. [] Go back out as you are, claim you haven't got anything else to put on.
What'd I say?
You ask him as politely as the words 'putrescent' and 'mongoloid' allow whether he's seen your gun. He smiles at you and says that you looked like you were going too hurt yourself with it so he moved it. He motions to your counter. There it was, clear as day. You thank him insincerely and move on to asking him what his business is in your home. He drops the smile, thank the gods of all things right and good, and explains that he's your appointment. You were previously under the impression that it would be a bureaucrat with your money and that it would be later. This man was too handsome to be a normal bureaucrat and too early to be later. For the time being you'd better [] Have your appointment as you are, don't give him the satisfaction of seeing you have to go back and change into something presentable. He's at your house, he plays by your rules. [] Pick up your gun and shoot him. [] Get changed. Might as well look as professional as possible and try to repair first impressions.
I shanked my best friend because I didn't like the way she looked at me.
You absolutely adore that gun. It's like a sex partner to you, when you find it missing in the morning you know someone is gonna die over it. So you overlook your present state of near nudity and leave your room after another once over of the room. Much to your surprise the first thing you see when you pop your head out is a tall dark haired man sitting at your kitchen table wearing a rather dapper suit if you do say so yourself. Shit. He's seen you. You're not the type to blush over a guy seeing you in such a state though, you instead [] Start screaming to alert the neighbors. [] Run over and beat his face in. [] Ask him if he's seen your gun.
A closer inspection of your room reveals that your heavily modified Double Eagle is not there. You check under your pillow, under the bed, under that hidden panel where you keep extra C4. Nothing. What the well grounded and perfectly well reasoned fuck? Oh well, you didn't really mean it. You never really mean it, probably. You have an appointment later anyways. Perhaps you should [] Get dressed you slob. [] Find your gun, it's important and you feel wrong without it. [] Check the window. Your curtain seems askew.
you can tell by the way the light slants into your room from the east side of your apartment. You roll over lazily. The ever helpful clock on the face of your phone seems to be telling you that it's going to be morning for a good four more hours and that it's not just a morning, it's a Monday morning and you feel [] Horrible. Where's your gun? Might as well end it now. [] Not bad, just got finished with that month long job in Spain and the money should be coming any day now. [] Pretty dang spiffy. You just finished working out the design for a mod on that napkin you see lying over there.
Can she not read or something? The instructions are on the cup.
I saw this, then I thought of this. Spoiler
Styx definitely needs to see more play in this poll.
I'm fairly certain that a less known member or a clearly unsung member should show up on this poll. Like someone who just kind of gets ignored, someone who can't really catch a break but is still pretty cool in their own right, but only if you think about it longer than you ever usually put any time into. Maybe some of you feel that way about a few of the people here but I feel like we've all got decent reps and responsiveness around the forum already, we've already got our due in some way.
Guess it's time to log out and play that shit, isn't it?
I thought they were talking about you for a second. Then that second ended.
