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Pleased to meet you, won't you lock me in a cage? [Closed to Asuma & Tsume][Jan. 26th, 2009|02:26 am]

[Takes place the day after Playing Hero, and an hour after One Step / Two Step]

He should have just gone to bed.

Well, first he should have found the right floor, identified his room, hit on any pretty neighbours, and then gone to bed.

But no, he had to be curious. Because anyone who'd seen the gloomy, unappealing staircase leading downwards by the Quartermaster's cubbyhole would definitely head back to check it out later. It was a perfectly normal human compulsion.

In crazy people.

Asuma padded down the dingy corridor of the second subbasement, dust curling up beneath his brand new (and completely ridiculous looking) ANBU sandals, eying the rows of empty cell blocks as he passed them. He'd found a lightswitch back by the door and had managed to achieve a sickly yellow gleam from one freakin' bulb, which was just enough to give the place a horror movie mystique.

Dear Dad,

On my first night as a tattooed spook, a ghost ate me. I realize the irony. Don't tell anyone.

Warm air curled back against clean-shaven skin as he snorted through his (brand new!) mask, scratched the bandage covering his (brand new!) tattoo, and shrugged his rucksack into a more comfortable spot. Compared to a bulky armoured jacket and a pair of loose combats, skin-tight armour took a bit of getting used to.

Not that he was ready to take it off yet. His midnight vow was still only an hour old.

Though, he was considering painting the white bits black. Despite whatever the Quartermaster said, who used white for camouflage?

In the distant gloom, something tipped over with a rattling clunk, striking against metal. Asuma tilted his head to one side, debated going back upstairs--

Shoulda, woulda, coulda...

--and headed onwards to investigate.


Crazy people had more fun, anyway.
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