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♻ 002 | spam
[After a few days, Tiffany checks herself out of the infirmary. They were willing to let her go-- except for her teeth, she's mostly healed up; even her bruises are gone-- and she was starting to feel stir crazy, so out she went.
Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.
Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.
Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.
At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]
[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]
Except now she doesn't know where to go. She knows there's her cabin, but she doesn't want to spend all her time there-- it looks like a Litchfield prison bunk, so it's not the most comfortable place around. She's new, so she doesn't know the best common areas to hang out in. There are a lot of doors, but most of them are unopenable to her. So she wanders.
Despite her bravado and argumentativeness, the things people have been telling her since she arrived-- that she's dead, that she was chosen to be here, that she's here to make amends-- are getting to her. She doesn't fully believe them, but she can't completely disbelieve them either. If they're right (and what if they are?), everything she thought she knew about God and faith and atonement has been turned on its head. There was that man-- that Catholic-- who'd tried to help her reconcile this with what she believed, but it hadn't worked all that well. She's relatively new to her faith, and without someone spoonfeeding it to her, she's shaky in it. She's used it as both a comfort and a crutch in the past, and now she isn't sure that she has it at all anymore. She doesn't know whether that makes her feel depressed or furious; she doesn't know whether she wants to punch someone or curl up and cry. She isn't ruling out doing both.
Predictably, she finds her way to the chapel. Finding a Bible in the cabinet, she sinks down onto a bench and flips through it aimlessly, barely taking in what she's seeing. She tries the trick of opening to a random passage a couple times, but it only ever seems to be just that-- random. Sadness is the overwhelming emotion here-- sadness, confusion, feeling alone and lost. When a teardrop or two lands on the pages, she doesn't bother to brush them away.
At some point, she also wanders into the dining hall, circling the room and poking around for something to do. It's not time for a meal, but the cafeteria was a popular place to hang out and relax in Litchfield, so she figures it might be the same here. Unfortunately, she's leaning towards anger right now, and she's spoiling for a fight. That's not a good thing, on a prison ship filled with inmates just like her.]
[OOC: Permissions post for this character!]
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Thought they were made up.
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[How else would you hold people still and ritually humiliate them?]
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[She pronounces it like the word "shoe".]
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What's - 'shoe'?
[Clear enough that it's not a word he's encountered in this context before.]
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[He blinks, refocuses.]
I'm sorry. You - probably don't want to talk about this.
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I'm in minimum security. You're either not by yourself at all or you're by yourself too much.
They probably got cameras on the SHU cells, anyway.
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[He couldn't even begin to guess what a camera is, but on context alone he's imagining something or someone that observes without being seen.]
I'm sorry. [Sympathy, this time, not an apology.] That sounds miserable.
[Which he knows imprisonment is meant to be, but still.]
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What would be 'real bad'?
[She seems alright with talking about it, so he supposes there's no harm in asking.]
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Oh. [Forever sounds a bit harsh.] I mean - what would be bad enough to deserve that?
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I dunno, fighting too much, I guess. Being a danger.
[Says the girl who is a danger.]
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[That gives him pause.]
Isn't a person in prison for being a danger in the first place?
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But if you don't go after anyone while you're in, you don't go to SHU.
[Spam] vghbkjlkl I am so sorry I lost this tag!
Not that he has any idea what's wrong with selling drugs, but he has no concept of illegal narcotics either.]
I don't know whether there's anything like that here. And it seems fairly easy to keep yourself to yourself when you want to. For what it's worth.
[Spam] it's okay I do that a lot myself 8(
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[Truer words were never spoken.]
You're right. But - that doesn't mean they can't. Or shouldn't. [He looks at her, head tilted slightly.] You and I probably don't have much in common, but I've liked talking to you.
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I ain't even in a good mood.
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[Luckily, you're talking to someone who tends to rate other people's moods by the size and density of the things they're throwing at him.]
Really. Though - if you came here to be alone, I can go.
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Don't matter to me.
... Why did you come in here?
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[It'll help with the homesickness.]
I never have before. I wanted to see what was in here.
[He doesn't know that he'd ever want to pray here. The gods never seemed to listen to him.]
But I'm sorry, if that's - disrespectful.
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That's what's happening.
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