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Feb. 21st, 2013 at 8:54 AM
[ welcome to sector 0, late at night. (or early in the morning, depending on how you look at it.) a young man is standing underneath the lights, wearing nothing but his brand new orange jumpsuit and a bruise marking one of his eyes.
he doesn’t look so calm, but he’s keeping it together. mostly he’s wondering if this is the price he's paying for sleeping with his best friend’s girl.
twice. well, there were a lot of positions, but just twice. and technically, she wasn’t his girl the first time. definitely not the second time. this isn’t why he’s here, right?
the point is one moment he was on his couch and jess had left. he’d closed his eyes to appreciate feeling a little less like crap for a whole second and woke up in the middle of a goddamn field outside an athletic complex, some list of his crimes being called off and a welcome to his brand new accommodations. what the fuck.
accommodations which he promptly got up and checked out. yeah. that message wasn’t lying. or he’s starting to realize it wasn’t, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.
so, jason stackhouse figures out this communicator business. (he fumbles a bit at first.) and yeah, that is a thick louisianan drawl you hear. ]
All right, I know I ain't - I don't gotta be a genius to know this ain't Bon Temps and these ain't my clothes. [ some command of the situation might work, right? that'll work. he is kinda terrified and a bit angry, so it’s not entirely convincing wagging a finger at the camera. ] Look, on behalf of the - with the authority of the - [ bon temps police department. he'd finish with that; he totally would, but he rethinks the ‘official police business’ tone. something tells him (probably experience) it ain't gonna mean much. let's try a desperate attempt to appeal for himself. ] Look, I don't belong in a - I ain’t a prison kinda guy. I'm a cop. [ hear him trying to convince himself and the world this means something? ] Maybe before I'm mighta deserved it, but I've - I’ve changed my ways; I've gotten... better’n stuff. Member of uh... [ what's the word...? lightbulb! ] a productive society, is what it is. So. Someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on? Is this some kinda vampire-fairy world prank? ‘Cause mama.
[ he turns away, lifts his arms up to place his hands behind his head. turns back to say - oh yeah, he realizes the headset’s still right in front of his face. he's pointing his finger at the communicator again, and he's a little more convincing this time. ] And if anyone sees or knows or has any idea where my sister is - Sook, Sookie Stackhouse - you better lemme know.
he doesn’t look so calm, but he’s keeping it together. mostly he’s wondering if this is the price he's paying for sleeping with his best friend’s girl.
twice. well, there were a lot of positions, but just twice. and technically, she wasn’t his girl the first time. definitely not the second time. this isn’t why he’s here, right?
the point is one moment he was on his couch and jess had left. he’d closed his eyes to appreciate feeling a little less like crap for a whole second and woke up in the middle of a goddamn field outside an athletic complex, some list of his crimes being called off and a welcome to his brand new accommodations. what the fuck.
accommodations which he promptly got up and checked out. yeah. that message wasn’t lying. or he’s starting to realize it wasn’t, and he’s not sure how he feels about that.
so, jason stackhouse figures out this communicator business. (he fumbles a bit at first.) and yeah, that is a thick louisianan drawl you hear. ]
All right, I know I ain't - I don't gotta be a genius to know this ain't Bon Temps and these ain't my clothes. [ some command of the situation might work, right? that'll work. he is kinda terrified and a bit angry, so it’s not entirely convincing wagging a finger at the camera. ] Look, on behalf of the - with the authority of the - [ bon temps police department. he'd finish with that; he totally would, but he rethinks the ‘official police business’ tone. something tells him (probably experience) it ain't gonna mean much. let's try a desperate attempt to appeal for himself. ] Look, I don't belong in a - I ain’t a prison kinda guy. I'm a cop. [ hear him trying to convince himself and the world this means something? ] Maybe before I'm mighta deserved it, but I've - I’ve changed my ways; I've gotten... better’n stuff. Member of uh... [ what's the word...? lightbulb! ] a productive society, is what it is. So. Someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on? Is this some kinda vampire-fairy world prank? ‘Cause mama.
[ he turns away, lifts his arms up to place his hands behind his head. turns back to say - oh yeah, he realizes the headset’s still right in front of his face. he's pointing his finger at the communicator again, and he's a little more convincing this time. ] And if anyone sees or knows or has any idea where my sister is - Sook, Sookie Stackhouse - you better lemme know.