buzz protocol [ jaspidot blitz
May 28, 2016 2:09:47 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 28, 2016 2:09:47 GMT -5
![](http://i.pipec.ru/20140425/600px/2221163408200_1.jpg)
jasper
(tw: she's a monster)
"Hey Pan, h-"
"For the seventh time, it isn't 'Pan.' It's Pandora."
"Hey Buzzkill,"
"Whatever."
"How about instead of keeping your ass in that recorder, we actually live a little."
"And what do you have in mind by live a little,"
"Why don't we go and get fucking plastered!"
"No."---
I've always been a fuckboy okay.
It's practically in my coding, being raised with Onyx, City and Agate, of course I'm a fuckboy! Those sons of bitches would've killed each other to get something easy, and in district thirteen no less. And here we are: practically refugees hiding out in district four. We're outsiders here, Pandora and I, and I am her escort after all. I keep us two grounded and together the entire ride or I don't bother coming home, so how could I possibly leave Pandora out of this. As soon as we landed it was pretty much the first thing I noticed: the pretty beach babes.
That, and how bright the fucking sun is.
See, from what I can tell in this district so far is that all the women are hot and practically all the legal ones are drunk, so where does that land me? I mean, it really doesn't leave me an option. And plus, this is probably one of the few times I'll ever be here in this district, and it's my first time! Why not celebrate. Besides, it was any excuse to get out of that dingy motel room. The president gave us a budget to use to survive while we were out searching for Lenore Delamer and the lost hovercraft, so Pandora rationed the hell out of it. She slept on the ground.
I practically dragged her ass out that door myself; "we have to focus on the mission, Jasper!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know technician. And where else would Miss Delamer be then in a fucking bar?"
"But-"
"And they say you're the only one with goddamn brains around here."
By the time we got to any bar I was practically begging for a drink to drown out Pandora, her constant nitpicking and reasons and bullet lists were cutting my nerves one by one. Back in thirteen we didn't get drinks like these, pilots weren't allowed to have any type of consumption harder than wine. I don't know how that works with technicians but hell, I'm guessing it ain't too much worse. The president wants us to keep our mind on the prize and that's where I'm headed of course, "it's all apart of the mission." I whisper in her ear.
"And what do the two ladies want?"
Death, "what ever a man like you gets."
"Hoo, okay then."
Finally something worth my fucking time.