carol denning (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
classifieds) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
returnjourneylogs2022-06-20 09:17 pm
classifieds) wrote in returnjourneylogs2022-06-20 09:17 pm
remember when you used to be a rascal
Passengers: Carol Denning + OPEN
Location: Inmate housing and the mess hall.
Date: late June
Summary: Carol has arrives. She is not happy.
Warnings: Carol is very crass and vulgar. And mean.
a. bunk 102 - for travis
[ She gets to her bunk and there's stuff inside of it. Not too unusual, probably a previous inmate. One that didn't smell very good. Oh well. Anything left behind is free shit as far as she's concerned.
Unfortunately, most of it is junk in her eyes and she tosses it out onto the floor. A picture of someone she doesn't know, shirts she wouldn't be caught dead in, and so on.
There is a cat plushie, though, and it's pretty cute. The cat can stay, she thinks, as she tosses out yet another bad shirt. ]
b. hallways near the inmate housing - open
[ In a way, there's something flattering about the fact that she was kicked from the relatively cushy Barge and onto somewhere that seems a good deal more restrictive. It's like going from minimum security to max: sucks, but it means you're pretty hardcore.
Of course she misses the people she knew there. Some of them, anyway. And she sure wishes she had somewhere private to scream about it. But she doesn't so she shoves it all down.
Eventually she'll take it out on someone with a fist in their face. Right now she just leans against the wall, observing anyone who walks by, desperately craving a cigarette. ]
What're you looking at?
[ She barely bothers to look at whoever she's deemed to be lingering for too long. If it's someone she's already met, maybe she'll be more amicable. Or maybe she'll be even worse. ]
c. mess hall - open
[ Carol looks down at the meal the AUTOMAT dispensed: some sort of meat-free meatloaf approximation, potatoes that looked like the cheap sort you get with TV dinners, and carrots that were at least normal even if they weren't real carrots.
She's been here a day and is already back to eating some sort of loaf. Just like real prison. ]
Jesus H. Christ, whose nuts do I have to kick to get a fucking pudding cup around here?
[ Alas, as new as she is, she's got no money even if the commissary were open. So, all she can do is eat the no-meat meatloaf one bite at a time. She may not be happy about it but she knows better than to starve herself. ]
wildcard
[ if you have something else in mind PM me, hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
venoms or just go wild and post it! ]
Location: Inmate housing and the mess hall.
Date: late June
Summary: Carol has arrives. She is not happy.
Warnings: Carol is very crass and vulgar. And mean.
a. bunk 102 - for travis
[ She gets to her bunk and there's stuff inside of it. Not too unusual, probably a previous inmate. One that didn't smell very good. Oh well. Anything left behind is free shit as far as she's concerned.
Unfortunately, most of it is junk in her eyes and she tosses it out onto the floor. A picture of someone she doesn't know, shirts she wouldn't be caught dead in, and so on.
There is a cat plushie, though, and it's pretty cute. The cat can stay, she thinks, as she tosses out yet another bad shirt. ]
b. hallways near the inmate housing - open
[ In a way, there's something flattering about the fact that she was kicked from the relatively cushy Barge and onto somewhere that seems a good deal more restrictive. It's like going from minimum security to max: sucks, but it means you're pretty hardcore.
Of course she misses the people she knew there. Some of them, anyway. And she sure wishes she had somewhere private to scream about it. But she doesn't so she shoves it all down.
Eventually she'll take it out on someone with a fist in their face. Right now she just leans against the wall, observing anyone who walks by, desperately craving a cigarette. ]
What're you looking at?
[ She barely bothers to look at whoever she's deemed to be lingering for too long. If it's someone she's already met, maybe she'll be more amicable. Or maybe she'll be even worse. ]
c. mess hall - open
[ Carol looks down at the meal the AUTOMAT dispensed: some sort of meat-free meatloaf approximation, potatoes that looked like the cheap sort you get with TV dinners, and carrots that were at least normal even if they weren't real carrots.
She's been here a day and is already back to eating some sort of loaf. Just like real prison. ]
Jesus H. Christ, whose nuts do I have to kick to get a fucking pudding cup around here?
[ Alas, as new as she is, she's got no money even if the commissary were open. So, all she can do is eat the no-meat meatloaf one bite at a time. She may not be happy about it but she knows better than to starve herself. ]
wildcard
[ if you have something else in mind PM me, hit me up at
c
But here he is, sitting well away from the Automat and paying more heed to his CommLink than his meal. On the Barge he cut, if not a striking figure, at least a dramatic one, decked out in black with his black hat and creaking boots. Now he's almost destined to be overlooked, an unimposing man in unremarkable clothes. His hair a little on the shaggy side.
He looks up sharply at the sound of her voice—drawn to it without fully recognizing it. Her glasses, at least, are hard to miss. ] You wanna trade? [ He calls across the room, his voice unexpectedly light. ]