EVENT: That Stuff Never Winds Up in a Pocket, Honest (July 2023)

[citycenter]

THAT STUFF NEVER WINDS UP IN A POCKET, HONEST.

THE THINGS I GAVE YOU. » THE BANK — INTRODUCTORY NOTES District 2 is open, bringing with it access to new and interesting locations—including the city's main bank branch. The bank is a large building with a stone exterior, wrought iron grating on the windows, and large, heavy metal doors that take surprisingly little effort to open, their hinges silent and well-oiled. Early in the day on July 19, characters in the vicinity of the bank will hear first a low, metallic creaking sound from inside the building, like metal straining against metal. This is followed by the sharper noise of locks disengaging, and then the large, heavy doors on the front of the building swing open slightly, enough to let a person through. Directly inside the doors is the bank lobby, and beyond that is the main banking floor, with elegant marble flooring and dimly lit chandeliers. It would appear that this was once the main commercial bank of the city, although it is now completely empty, with no tellers behind the counters and no cash in any of the drawers. You may rifle through the tills and filing cabinets to your heart's content, but similar to the files in City Hall, there is no useful information to be found—all the papers are blank, or are empty forms without any personally identifying information. There are no monetary devices to be found either; this is, after all, not a city that operates on a cash system, so there are no coins or paper bills in any of the tills or, indeed, anywhere within the bank. What you might be able to find, though, is a rack of delicate, burnished brass keys on a wall toward the back of the main banking hall. Each of these keys is attached to a stamped metal keychain bearing a name on one side and a number on the other. Some of these may be names you recognize, and some of them may not, but they are all names belonging to current residents of the city, and each key corresponds to a safety deposit box within the vault at the back of the building. Can you remember what you stored in that box for safekeeping? Maybe you had better go find out. At the back of the main banking hall is a vault secured with a large circular metal door. The door is currently unlocked and propped open; it can be closed, but cannot be locked (intentionally, anyway) from either the inside or the outside. The vault contains row upon row of safety deposit boxes, each locked. Participating characters who are in possession of a key can open their own safety deposit box, but it is not currently possible to force open any safety deposit box that does not belong to them. After August 1, players will be able to use their safety deposit boxes to store their own belongings, and break-ins will become possible with prior player permission and appropriate consequences. Below sections detail the safety deposit boxes for both choose-your-own-adventure players and randomized players! Please see the randomized matches for this event HERE. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS IT'S TRUE, PEOPLE TAKE THINGS BUT RARELY. » SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A SELF-GUIDED TOUR For some of you, getting into your safety deposit box is quite straightforward. You take your key from the rack behind the teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not. When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check. You open the safety deposit box to find—something that shouldn't be there. It's yours, that much you're sure of, but you didn't bring it with you to the city. You reach into the box to pick it up, and the surge of memory is immediate, sending your mind back to your strongest memory associated with the item in your hand. Then the vault door swings shut, trapping you inside with whoever else has the misfortune of sharing the vault with you right now. No matter what force you try, the door won't open again. There doesn't appear to even be a mechanism that unlocks the door from the inside, and from within several feet of metal and stone, no one on the outside will be able to hear you shout. It seems hopeless—how long can anyone last, trapped in a place like this? Should you turn back to the open safety deposit box, you might notice a slip of paper resting on the bottom. The paper looks aged, like it's been in the box for quite some time, and in printed text it reads: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." Maybe it means you should let another hold the item you've retrieved from the box… or maybe it means you should share the weight of memory. Try to interpret the meaning in whatever way you can. But should you decide to unburden yourself, and share with someone else the weight of the item you're holding in your hands, you may find that there's a means of escape after all. Once you free yourself from the vault, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry… Characters who wish to participate in the event, but who do not wish to randomize the contents of their safety deposit boxes, can open their safety deposit boxes to find an emotionally significant item belonging to the character—player's choice as to what the item is. The only guidelines are that it should be small enough to fit reasonably in a pocket and may not have any magical or weapon properties. Similarly, players are able to choose the memories associated with the items in the safety deposit boxes. The vault door will remain closed until the characters in the vault explain to each other the significance of their items and the memory associated with them, at which point it the vault mechanisms will disengage and the door will swing open as if it had never closed to begin with. However, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS A CRASH-SITE IS SACRED, WE'RE FAITHFUL. » SAFETY DEPOSIT BOXES — A JOINT VENTURE For others of you, the contents of the safety deposit box may be considerably more disconcerting. You also take your safety deposit box key from the rack behind the bank teller's counter and make your way back through the building and into the vault. It's cool inside, the temperature well-regulated and the air dry. On the walls are rows upon rows of safety deposit boxes, and it may take you a moment to find the one that corresponds to the number stamped on your key. Does that number mean anything to you? It may, or it may not. When you find your box, it takes very little effort to open it. A slide of your key, a quick turn, and the safety deposit box's door springs open to reveal the metal container within. You remove the metal box from the wall and bring it over to the table in the center of the room, clearly placed there for this express purpose. Maybe there are others around, or maybe you're alone. Do you remember yet, what it was you put in here? Well, there's no time like the present to check. You open the safety deposit box to find—wait, what is that? It certainly doesn't belong to you. Tucked inside the safety deposit box alongside the item is a slip of paper with another name on it, as well as a cryptic message: "Nothing is yours. It is to use. It is to share. If you will not share it, you cannot use it." The item isn't yours, but it does appear to belong to another resident of the city. Maybe your safety deposit boxes somehow got mixed up? It seems like it would be a good idea to find this person and return their property to them. Whether you encounter the owner of the item in the vault or elsewhere in the city, when it comes time to hand the item over, two things happen. One—the doors are locked tight, refusing to allow either you or the item's owner out until you both understand what the item is and what it means to the other. To unburden your heart is the only way to free yourself. And two—as the owner of the item explains its significance, you find yourself oddly captivated, resonating strongly with whatever emotion the item's owner most closely associates with it. You may not be able to see the memory that the other person describes, but you can certainly feel the emotions they felt—after all, the easiest way to unburden oneself is to share the load with another. Isn't that right? Once you free yourself from your enthralled state, and once you have your own belongings returned to you, for the next several days you find yourself feeling rather honest, like you may not be able to stop yourself from confessing the truth about the item you now carry… Characters who opted to randomize the contents of their safety deposit box during the plotting post, or who plotted a joint experience with another character, will open their safety deposit boxes to find a small, non-magical but emotionally significant item belonging to another player character in the city. They will need to find the owner of that item and return it to them—this can either be inside the bank vault or in another location within the city. Regardless of where the meeting takes place, the character holding the item will find themselves unable to leave until the character who owns the item explains its significance; as they do, the holder of the item will find themselves swept up in the emotional highs and lows of the memories associated with that item, allowing them to share all of the feelings, regrets, joys, griefs, and rages that the owner experiences in the telling. Additionally, for the four days following the event, characters who carry their safety deposit box item on their person will feel oddly compelled to tell other characters about its significance and meaning. JUMP TO TOP ↑ | ↓ JUMP TO COMMENTS WILDCARD. The city is by no means small, and there are plenty of things for you to see. There's no rush in exploring, so feel free to take your time looking around and peering into various nooks and crannies and alleyways—and don't worry, you're not very likely to find anything peering back. If none of the above prompts appeal, feel free to check out the Locations and Maps pages and write your own freestyle prompt using one or many of the available locations. This month's event headers come from "The Things" and "The Gatherer," two poems by Brendan Constantine. The text of the paper slip comes from Ursula K. LeGuin's The Dispossessed. JUMP TO TOP ↑

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peter quill | mcu

[nostalgiabomb]

i. mama told me not to come — the bank

[ So here's the thing:

Even if Peter Quill spent his most recent years as a interplanetary hero, even if he put behind his life of professional thieving, even if he would tell people who accused him of being a criminal that he had left that all behind and that he was now, in his own words, "a nice dude," he never quite set aside his appreciation for valuables and money. And having it. And having a lot of it.

Then there's a vault. And it's wide open. And even if it doesn't house the riches that he was kind of hoping for (because of course it didn't, and even if it did, what was he gonna do with it while trapped in this place?), it was still, at least, something to explore.

... even if the exploring is turning out to be boring as hell, evidenced by the way he's only halfheartedly picking his way through a stack of files. He tosses a pile of blank paperwork to one side. ]

Good news is, I found the forms for if you wanted to refinance your house.

ii. come and get your love — inside the vault

[ So here's what happens: Peter finds his key and cautiously enters the vault. He locates the appropriately numbered box and gives it the stink-eye for a few heartbeats. Clearly he's expecting to unlock the thing and, like, get a face full of acid, or find a disembodied hand, or maybe discover a desiccated orloni, or something fucking weird.

It's with no small amount of trepidation that he opens up his safety deposit box. He stares, dumbfounded, at an old, well-loved Sony Walkman before picking it up out of the box, like it's the most delicate, breakable thing in the world.

When the vault door slams shut, he nearly jumps out of his skin and blurts out on instinct, ]

I didn't do anything.

iii. show and tell — around the city

[ Peter's normal attitude while wandering the city, these days, is Highly Distracted and Preoccupied.

He's had a lot on his mind, okay? And he knows that given where he is (a Mysterious City™), and given what's going on (that he has been Mysteriously Kidnapped and that people are getting kind of murder happy) and what's already happened (see: previous parenthetical), he should be on his guard.

But he's not.

(Don't @ him, Nebula.)

It doesn't help, either, that he's currently plugged into a cassette tape player, which is clipped his belt. He's already spent hours examining the thing, and short of taking everything fully apart, he's, like, 98% sure this is the real deal.

So distracted as he is, it's why, in a big, empty city, with big, open expanses – while strolling through the park, while wandering through a grocery or convenience store, while raiding some nondescript electronics store for AA batteries – he still somehow manages to walk right into someone.

As he's scrambling back, yanking down his headphones so that they're hanging around his neck— ]

Shit, sorry. That was my fault.

[ Obviously. ]

iv. hit me with your best shot — wildcard

(( feel free to PM me or message me at lampshading if you need anything! ))

iii

[willtheunwise]

[ Will isn’t really paying attention to where he’s going either and funnily enough the same person would probably not be impressed if she saw him aimlessly wandering without paying attention to his surroundings too, if the interaction from a few nights ago is any indication ]

Shit! Sorry!

[ For someone who wasn’t looking where he was going and has to duck really quickly so he doesn’t burn the stranger with the cigarette he isn’t really smoking, just letting burn out in his hand, Will recovers extraordinarily quickly when he hears the familiar and tinny sound of music playing through headphones ]

You have music? How did you..? Did you find it here?

[ Ordinarily he’d have music playing whenever he’s awake and the extreme quiet of the city has been getting to him in a way he finds hard to explain ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ getting yelled at by Nebula: Peter Quill 🤝 Will Byers

Luckily for both of them, Peter doesn't get a cigarette burn anywhere on his person. He frowns at the cigarette in the kid's hand, briefly thinks of asking, "Aren't you kinda young to be smoking?" before Peter remembers that he, himself, had probably done worse at the ripe old age of thirteen.

Getting raised by pirates, man. Gotta love it.

It helps that he's distracted from the topic by the kid's question, and Peter glances down at his Walkman, where it has pride of place clipped to his belt. He hits pause on the device, committing a cardinal sin in interrupting David Bowie, and he feels that weird compulsion to babble bubble up, but he quickly swallows it down. ]

I got it from that vault, the other day.

[ There's the slightest wrinkling of his nose, as if to say, "I wish I hadn't, though." Because this place is creepy, and he doesn't like the idea that whoever is in charge can dredge through Peter's past and plop down a bribe. ]

You okay?

[ After their head-on collision, Peter means. ]

[willtheunwise]

[ Not in the 80s when they still started fresh out the womb.
It’s a Camel and he’s only taken about two drags, it’s more about the lingering smell, it’s the only thing he’s found close to a piece of his mom in the whole place so far.

Still the more pressing issue is how to get his hands on actual music.

Which makes the answer vaguely disappointing. ]

Wait I got a ripped photo and you got a whole Walkman?

[ Unfair and more evidence that the city is out to get him specifically. It’s not like he doesn’t own an emotionally significant mixtape of his own. ]

Yeah, I’m fine. Are you? I didn’t burn you did I?

[ and then because it’s important Peter, you don’t even understand ] What song was that?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter has the good sense to look a little sheepish at the inequality of their deposit box's contents, wincing a little as if to say, "Sorry, man. I didn't choose it."

A ripped photo? The city didn't even have the decency to give the kid an undamaged one? Yeesh. That's just mean. ]

Nah, I'm—

[ —fine, is what he was about to say, but then the kid bowls that response over to ask the next question. To his credit, Peter rolls with it easily: ]

"Moonage Daydream." By David Bowie. [ In case the clarification is necessary.

Because weird magic compulsion or no, Peter will talk about his mother's mix tape at literally the drop of a hat. ]

[willtheunwise]

[ It isn’t Peters fault he got something good, and it was probably given to him to fuck with him in some way. It sure seems like everyone’s items were given to them with that purpose, some more subtle than others. So he shrugs, it’s fine anyway.

Suddenly aware he’s being A Lot right now Will tries to reign it back in, the adrenaline spike of colliding with somebody slowly fading. However… ]

You like Bowie? [ Congrats, you’ve impressed a teenager. A true honour. Really. ]

show and tell — around the city

[wrenchedup]

[ As fred durst would say (which fuck that guy by the way): it's just one of those days. Wrench had resisted the vault test with every bone in his body until he finally spilled and WASN'T IT JUST LIKE THE CORPORATE REGIME to fuck people in the ass without any reach around whatsoever. Unbelievable. Him and his nosy desire to snoop around the bank. As if there would be anything to steal, get real. Why did he even think...???? Clearly, Wrench did not.

So now he was feeling... stupider? Even more ashamed? A lot of things, really. He's always feeling a lot of things but he was usually better at keeping a handle on it or maybe it was just he was better at escaping into things.............. ANYWAYS

Wrench was in one of those convenience stores making himself an Adult Slurpie type things which included a whole bunch of flavors and even more vodka when he sees this kerfuffle at the door. LED eyes peeks over the aisles nosily. No harm, it looks like. But he's also done so he wanders on over to see Only One (guess the other one dipped after whatever happened had happened or he was just in an isle and Wrench wasn't paying attention) and then— wait!!! A large semi-mechanical voice gasped as he pointed at the guy. ]

Dude, is that a walkman??? Holy shit. That's so Retro— [ Oh. He said Retro. IMMEDIATELY SAD. Don't mind him and his crazy straw going into who knew where... no one asks and he never tells... for one big sip. Big sippy. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ The other party had, in fact, been on their way out. Which is why Peter was in the middle of his, "seriously, that was my bad, man"s and his "you sure you're okay?"s and his parting "yeah, yeah, see you around, dude"s.

He hears the cheerful little bing bong! sound off again further into the store when he finally passes through the motion sensor properly. And a part of him, the part that he's cordoned off for asking seriously useless questions (which, as he's spending more time in this city, he's dedicating more and more processing power to), wonders why the hell is there an alert when there's no one to work the front counter? What's even the point?

And caught up in these thoughts as he is, he nearly jumps out of his skin when a masked dude is suddenly in front of him.

He's about to say, "Yeah, I just got it back the other day," but then the guy seems to deflate and take a forlorn drink from his giant-ass-fuck cup.

What he asks instead is, ]

Uh. You okay, man?

[wrenchedup]

[ The point, probably, is to lure people into feeling that this place is real. A potential later topic. Wrench has a lot of thoughts on the place and some running theories with substantial weight to them. He's far from the only person working on it, too. Not things he's thinking of right now though as he stands dead in the center of the store staring at this other dude and slurping up some icy mush like he's a sad five year old (which to be fair he often was). ]

I, uh— Well, it's just. [ So a little bit of backstory here, Peter. To say that Wrench was a private person was probably the understatement of a lifetime. His voice wasn't his voice. His face wasn't his face. He immediately took refuge under anonymous and built encryptions as one of the first courses of action here after his initial........ panic and breakdown. Back home? Barely anyone knew his real name and even fewer people knew that Wrench and said real name were the same person. Rumors, but that's all they were.

Which is to say the next string of sputtered fact spilling was for sure an oddity, just like it had been with Johanna. So here we are! Here's this average height robot looking punk dude very animated in his body language as he chokes out some truths he had no intention to spill. Fucking cursed pictures!!! He knew banks were evil. ] There's this guy, this guy uh. Named Retro? Well, that was his codename but anyway and he just, man. I can't. I can't begin to tell you, dude. He's— he was funny, and smart, and just. He cared so much about everything he did and everything we stood for and he always knew how to bring us back up onto our feet and, uh. and he never gave up on me but. but I gave up on him

[ So, uh. So he's never actually voiced this before. There's sort of a moment where he realizes what he's saying but can't seem to not continue speaking but his voice, even with the modulation, becomes a little more thin and a little more emotional and he's just kind of. backing back up to the slurpy machine as if he could hide behind it or something... cause surely that'll help??? ] Cause, I dunno??? It was easier to marry someone else. Lower stakes if I wasn't that invested, I guess. [ RIP Zane, fuck you. ] He was probably straight anyway!! [ A chuckle comes out as he hides further behind the machine. Wow cannot believe he's saying all this, what the fuck. QUICK, DEPLOY HUMOR. ] SO UH— haha. What brings you to this fine house of convenience?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Oh, jeez.

Peter's been on both ends of a semi-drunken confession, so he's learned to sort of. Weather it. To let it run its course. So he kind of just stands there, eyes slightly wide, smile a little too small and very clearly plastered on, all too aware of the door – and his most expedient exit – at his back. He figures if he really needs to, he'll make up an excuse and run back the way he came.

Thankfully, it doesn't get too wild – it's not like the guy is admitting to murdering someone and dismembering their body and leaving appendages scattered around a public park, or anything. It's just— a guy missing his friends. Or possibly more than a friend.

It's why Peter's expression immediately softens and his posture relaxes a little. ]

Sounds like the guy meant a lot to you.

[ Which, even Peter admits, is likely a huge understatement. Instead of beating a hasty retreat, he moves further into the convenience store. ]

I'm getting snacks. [ Because while Peter can cook, he also appreciates the convenience and joy of overly-processed goods. ] Anything good around here?

[wrenchedup]

[ Poor guy walks in looking for some fucking cheesies or whatever and gets hit with this fucking mess. Over a god damn walkman, no less. If Wrench wasn't so nosy maybe this wouldn't have even happened in the first place!! Couldn't blame Quill if he did dip. This sure will be awkward after it all wares away, won't it?

For now, though, Wrench is backed up against the machine taking more of those Big Sippys (tm) and doing one of those restless knee bopping things. They can have the murder conversation later, Peter. One crime at a time. Today's is the crime of being a fucking idiot. ] Geeze, these have got to be the cleanest floors I have ever seen in a convenience store. Now I know FOR SURE this is a simulation— oh, uh. Can never go wrong with chips, dude. Doritos if you're gamer.

[ He does the anxious stream of consciousness chatter a lot, by the way. You'll get used to it. ]

ii

[luciole]

[Lucinda jumps and then frowns when she realizes the vault door has slammed shut again (yup, she's experienced this with someone else already, poor Daan). She already has her jade bracelet still clutched in her palm.

In reply to Peter, she lightly says:]

I know. Unless you have invisible hands in which case I will preemptively commend you for the surprise.

[His item gets her attention, however, and her brows raise.]

Is that a Walkman?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He glances over at the woman as he's striding over to the door, flashing her a quick, tight-lipped smile, as though to say, "Sadly, I left my invisible hands in my other pants pocket."

But, oh, what he would do to have invisible hands.

But, right, bigger problems. Like the suddenly closed vault door. Instinctively, he has the feeling that it is very much locked, but he still checks it anyway – not that a quick, one-handed shove is bound to do much. He lets out a sharp, frustrated noise.

At her question, he glances down at the tape player in his hand, frowning at it. ]

Yeah. Looks like it.

[ A pause, then, ]

The last time I saw one was years ago, and that one got crushed into a dozen pieces, then was caught up in an imploding planet. I guess someone thought I was due for a replacement.

[luciole]

... An imploding planet.

[You know what? She gives a slow nod as she absorbs the information with a wrinkled brow that then smooths out. Lucinda, being from a world of magic and espers, with emphasis on the magic part, realizes that no, that should not sound at all odd.]

Well, at least you have a replacement then. Does it still have music on it?

[She may or may not be asking him to delay in the sharing. The medium needs to show polite interest while she revs herself up to help get them both out.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ That's a good question, isn't it?

He sees the label through the plastic window himself, sees the yellowed label and faded blue ink christening the tape as "Awesome Mix Vol 1." He turns the volume up as loud as it'll go, just to avoid having to put the headphones on.

He still lifts the headphones up like they're a miniature speaker, so they can both hear the results.

The reels clack quietly, in a way that's so achingly familiar that his breath catches with it, and the rhythmic chanting begins immediately:

Ooga chaka. ]

Seems like it. That's nice, at least. I was worried I got a paperweight instead of the real deal.

[luciole]

[Her expression lights up when she hears the oga chaka, ooga chaka. And she even starts singing along, quietly.]

... I'm high on believing
That you're in love with me...

[Lucinda loves music in her own reserved way. It makes her think of the early days of arriving in the United States, meeting other young espers who were much more modern and fashionable compared to a village bumpkin like her. The music they would listen to was foreign to her ears at first until years passed, and hundreds of tracks and many karaoke sessions later, all of the popular songs and classics finally felt like home.

She's moved closer to listen without realizing it.]

Hooked on a Feeling, right? You're lucky you got something fun back then.

iii

[abit_ofboth]

[It took some doing, but Loki has finally retrieved the item that was meant to be in his box at the bank and he is both happy to have it and supremely disappointed that it is not currently functional. Because of course it is not function in this cursed city. Even though going home for him meant certain death, it didn't mean he didn't want to try. This was the Tesseract after all. There was no bounds to its power. He wonders if maybe it is turned off as some sort of protection from Thanos finding it. Or if Thanos already used it after he so unceremoniously murdered Loki for it and now it was simply useless, a relic of his past life.

Even more disturbing is that Loki feels the need to tell anyone he meets about it, about what it means to him, about what he's done to have it. As such, he has been avoiding people, though clearly not all that well as he suddenly finds himself colliding with another man.

Loki has been wandering the park, feeling like it is an open enough space that he can easily get out of people's way, except that he is so distracted by the cube in his hand, he doesn't notice the man walking towards him.]

Of course it was your fault.

[He can't help but snap. In a jerk reaction he uses his magic to transfer the cube into his pocket and then curses softly. So far it has seemed as though he can only uses his magic twice a day and that one felt like a waste.]

You should watch where you are going.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Wow. Rude.

But, considering Peter is pretty sure the collision was, in fact, his fault, he doesn't say anything further – but neither does he offer any further apologies. He did his due diligence already, after all, and any additional apologies after that feels like overkill.

Peter Quill may not be a total prick, but he still absolutely has an asshole-ish streak.

But his eyebrows lift in surprise when the weird blue cube disappears from the guy's hand in nearly the blink of an eye. ]

Neat trick.

[ It occurs to him, a split-second after that, the thing looked vaguely familiar, like something he had only vaguely caught from the corner of his eye, something like a melody he had only heard from another room. He frowns a little. ]

What was that?

[abit_ofboth]

[It was rude, and despite how he's sure his mother is rolling over in her grave because of it, he really doesn't care at the moment. Frigga is the only reason he's pleasant to anyone most of the time, but he's far too distracted to care right now.

It is likely a good thing that Peter didn't continue to apologize. One was polite, it showed you had seen your mistake and would look to not do it again. More than that made one seem rather pathetic.

When he replies, Loki's tone is clipped as if he's annoyed. And he is, though it's not really at Peter. He just doesn't like that he felt he had to use some magic unnecessarily. It was unlikely this man knew what it was he held. Good thing too as it was not like he couldn't talk about it.]

That, was the Tesseract. A frustratingly defunct Tesseract, but the Tesseract none-the-less. [He sighs, being a little more obvious than he would like that this was the true cause of his annoyance.]

[nostalgiabomb]

The Tesseract.

[ He repeats it absently. Then repeats it a couple more times on top of that, like he's trying to attach someone's name to a face. Like he's trying to remember a word and only vaguely remember that it starts with the letter "p." ]

Why does that sound so familiar?

[abit_ofboth]

[That was the last thing he expected the man to say. Loki narrows his eyes and looks at him, really assessing him this time. He seems a bit like a fool, but if he has heard of the Tesseract, even fleetingly, there just might be more to him than met the eye. At very least he was either not as human as he looked or he's spent time off world.]

Where I am from, it is a very powerful item. It is capable of great feats and I love it.

[Loki's mouth suddenly snaps shut and he frowns. He hadn't meant to say any of that. Even if it was true. He has always been endlessly fascinated by what the Tesseract was capable. He wants not only to use it, but dissect it, take it apart and find out what magic lies behind its cubed shell.]

You have heard of it?

iii

[aceslow]

Think nothing of it, [ Kim says as he's firmly jostled, readjusting the grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. Normally that would be that, and they would both go their separate ways; Kim's not much for idle chit-chat, though he's learning to embrace it more with the absence of anything else he's able to meaningfully do here. But his eyes move swiftly towards the headphones hanging around the stranger's neck, hit with an immediate pang of envy. He follows the wire down to a cassette player, far more familiar to him than any of the oddly futuristic technology they're surrounded by, and jabs his finger towards it. ]

Where did you get that from? I haven't been able to find anything that plays music in this whole place.

[ He misses it, more than he thought he would. What he wouldn't give to have the Kineema back, blasting Speedfreaks as he zooms down the deserted streets. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Since the guy is being graceful about Peter's clumsiness, Peter figures it'd probably be a good idea to offer another token apology. Maybe get in a few "you good, man?"s and "I really am sorry about that"s and be on his way.

But, yeah, the pointed question makes him wince – not because of the tone or anything, but more because he's still kind of feeling conflicted about the whole thing. ]

I got it from the vault. The one that opened up the other day?

[ As if any clarification were needed.

His expression pinches into something sour – because, listen, part of him still feels like this could be either be a bribe or a show of power on the part of their mysterious captors (or, quite possibly, both) and that he shouldn't trust it, but the other part of him, the part that's selfish and guards his belongings as jealously as a dragon guarding its hoard, just wants to appreciate the item for as long as it's his. ]

I've only got the one tape, though.

[aceslow]

Oh, that. [ Kim offers Peter a crooked smile; in good humour, but certainly more on the sympathetic side. By this point, he's realized that nobody around here has gotten anything simple from the vault. It's always mired in something strange, something difficult, something sentimental. But that doesn't mean that he won't pretend as though things aren't completely normal. After all, what's the alternative? ]

I would have much preferred to have gotten my cassette player than what I actually got, I'll admit. [ The toy airplane he'd received is still burning a hole in his pocket. Despite the odd urge to bring it up, he stifles it; he has always been a famously private man, and he doesn't intend to allow whatever strange spell that has been cast upon him to change that. ] Let me guess: it's got some sort of great sentimental value to you, and there's no possible way anyone should have been able to feasibly get their hands on it to place it in the vault.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter feigns a shocked expression, a hand pressing against his chest. ]

Holy shit, you're psychic.

[ But the expression melts away into a quick, halfhearted smile, and he lifts a shoulder in a shrug. ]

Last time I saw it, it was, um.

[ How to phrase this without sounding like a total whackjob? He pauses for a second, thinking over his words, before just plowing ahead: ]

Crushed into a half-dozen pieces by one of the biggest asswipes in the universe, then left behind on an imploding planet. So. Yeah. Kinda surprised to see it again.