workbackwards

[There's nothing interesting going on here in this rather plain bedroom. Not too many posters, but there are labels on everything that describe actions like turn off the light, make the bed, turn off alarm. In addition to those labels, there's a young man whose alarm clock is blaring at the top of its mechanical lungs until he rolls over and slaps it into silence. He slowly drags himself out of bed, shirtless with a long scar running down from the nape of his neck across his shoulder and down his arm, and shuffles to the closest window, pushing the curtain aside to place his hand against the glass. He stands there for a moment as a confused frown forms on his face, only to shove the drapes back and come face to face with... space. The final frontier.

It's not what Chris Pratt expected. It's supposed to be Kansas City out there.

He hurries back to bed, knocking off knickknacks off his nighttable until he comes across a small notebook with a red cover. Chris flips through it once, twice, three, and then a fourth time, looking for something that isn't there. And in a fit of something that's a mixture of panic, fear, and frustration, he throws the notepad across the room and begins stomping towards the door.]

Where the fuck am I? Lewis? Lewis!

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paradoxlol

Hey? Hey! [Trying to get your attention here. He recognizes Chris-- well, of course he does; Chris has his face. But more than that, he JUST spoke with him. The young man's still fresh on his mind.] Chris, right? I know this is weird, but you're gonna be okay.

[Small comfort.]

Edited Date: Sunday, June 10th, 2012 05:07 pm (UTC)

im_sid

[Now, to make up for Arthur, HAVE A GIRL.]

Hello? I don't think, uh, Lewis is here. Sorry...

workbackwards

[How about no comfort?

Chris turns on his bare heels, looking around his room for the voice that's calling his name. It's not Lewis. It doesn't sound like Lewis... it sounds like himself? No, that doesn't make any sense at all. Fuck. Is he getting worse? What do they call that thing when you hear voices? Janet never asked him if he had that and he never had that before... damn it, what is going on here?]

I'm talking to myself.

[Another voice? Definitely crazy. Look him up in a padded room. Even Lewis won't come and visit him.]

He's supposed to be here... unless he went to work.

[Yes, let's converse with the strange voices, Chris. This is completely okay.]

[This is your older, better dressed self.]

No, this isn't in your head or anything. There should be a device in your room, kind of like a smart phone. Try following the sound of my voice.

I know it probably looks like home, but it's not. If you go outside, you'll see what I mean.

[Oh, you mean the self that Chris used to be? Thanks for the reminder.]

What?

Oh. Um... hold on.

[Even though this voice is clearly in his head, it's still the voice of a lady and he can't just be traipsing around in his boxers. So Chris pulls on a shirt and some pants that were lying on the floor since God knows when and goes to open the door.

It's not his hallway. Lewis' bedroom isn't across the hall and the bathroom isn't where it should be. In their place is a plain hallway. It's not even painted the same blue as the apartment. Chris pulls his head back in and slams the door shut. If he could shit bricks, he would be doing it right now.]

I'm really fucked up now. I have to call Janet.

Edited Date: Sunday, June 10th, 2012 05:28 pm (UTC)

I don't think you'll be able to. This is sort of. Um. You're kind of in space. [Yes, just break the twin of her ex. GOOD JOB, SUMMER.]

[You're welcome, bro.]

Just follow the sound. Do you see anything weird or out of place here? A small device, should be able to fit in your hand...

[It's okay. He's already broken from Arthur.]

...What?

[He's going to be repeating this word a lot here.]

notafuckingnut

...who's Lewis?

[Most interesting question first, apparently.

He remembers that panic.]

Everything.

[Yes, Chris is capable of sarcasm. Who knew? But he's looking around anyway and it's only then that he notices that something's glowing from the pile of stuff that he tossed earlier. He bends down slowly, cautiously, like it's a snake about to bite, and picks it up and promptly disconnects. Accidentally.

He's never been very good with technology.]

My roommate. He's blind... looks like Larry Flynt?

[It's really the best way to describe him even though Gary meant it as an insult.]

I know it's a lot to take in, but. You're in space, of the "outer" variety. The whole room thing is just a sort of trick this place plays on you. [She's never really been sold on it being a 'comfort,' anyway.]