"...You people already seem annoying."
The Boxer, Michael Nading, is here! Try not to get on his bad side.

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@boxer-idv
"...You people already seem annoying."
The Boxer, Michael Nading, is here! Try not to get on his bad side.
bites you
"I can turn you into paste."
Unfortunately most of these freaks would probably like that, Michael.
hey mr are you perhaps um
single?
*i offer him a single chocolate egg imsorry i eated them all*
"...It's none of your damn business."
Eh. Looks like he's assuming the chocolate egg is poisoned or something. Tough luck, bud.
Mom,
Before you freak out and panic, like I know you probably will, I’m letting you know I’m safe. I’ve entered myself into a competition of some kind. And yes, it’s legitimate. I saw the documents and everything. I know things haven’t been so easy since I got blacklisted. And I full believe that this is the chance I’ve been looking for. The chance that we’ve been looking for. And while I don’t totally understand everything that’s happening, I have a feeling things are gonna turn out just fine. You know my gut is hardly ever wrong. But just to make you feel a little better, I made sure to write the moment I had a breath to myself.
I’m still not sure what kind of competition this is. They had us show up at some mansion in Connecticut, but as soon as everyone arrived this lady in a red coat hurried us all onto a train. While I would’ve liked to see the inside of the place, I’m certainly not here to complain about the train, either. This thing is the dictionary definition of luxury. The seats are great, the food’s great, and the views are something else. The people are a little weird, but I’m trying to keep to myself. So far the only one to talk to me was some kinda bartender, but I’m not sure if he’s working for the train or if he’s in the same situation I’m in. Probably doesn’t matter.
Anyway, the train ride is supposedly gonna take about seven days, but I convinced the head lady to take a stop so I can mail this. Hopefully you get it sooner rather than later. And make sure to remember your meds. I love you.
Michael
I want to fist fight him (in a friendly way)
"...I don't spar with anyone who asks me. If I don't how tough you are, I could end up breaking you. Or worse."
He shakes his head, before looking down, the shadows covering his face combatted by the gentle red glow of his cigarette.
"...You askin' me to break you? Didn't think so."
Hattie, having heard word of a new person, went to see if the rumours were true. And much to her surprise, they were. "Well, what do we have here? A new face, hm?" She asked with a chuckle. (@ask-the-idv-jazz-singer )
"To you, maybe."
Michael sighs, putting the cigarette in his hand out with a rag, before sticking both in his pocket. Looks like his peace and quiet is being interrupted yet again.
"And what are you supposed to be? Some kinda dancer?"
@ask-the-idv-jazz-singer
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya blinks. Pauses. Releases Bartie and lets him scuttle away. Then looks at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“Honey, if I was flirting, you would be swooning.” She sticks her tongue out. “Seriously, I’m just a social gal! And I like having friends. I haven’t seen you before so I wanted to know more about you. I’m not looking for entertainment, trust me. If I wanted that, I would have gone off to sock Preston by now.”
She smiles and uses her short skirt to curtesy. “Sooooo…. Earlier you said you wouldn’t go back in the ring? Does that mean you like a fighter? Did you come to the manor for a fight?”
She…. Is not gonna let him go without a decent conversation.
“Hah. Trust me, I’m a little more stable than to fall for a gal who flirts with me once. I’m used to that kinda thing after a fight.”
He sighs a bit, rubbing the back of his head as his ponytail ends up flipping what shoulder it’s resting up against.
“Oh yeah, I’m a boxer. A professional one, since I was eighteen. So… for six years, now. I know. I look older than I am. Just call it a mix of stress and drinking and move on with it. Anyway, that’s not why I came to the manor. I came… for someone else. Family stuff.”
Tatya snorts. She has performed for plenty of ‘stable’ guys before. And they have all tipped pretty well.
“You don’t look that old, if you ask me. You’re looking pretty spry for a dead guy.” She shrugs as she leans against the same wall and a rather extreme angle.
“Hm. Looking for someone? I could help you find them if you wanted. I know almost everyone here. That’s why I was so surprised when I saw you.” She offers, earnest in her desire to help. “If not that’s cool. You’re very… Reserved. So I can understand if you don’t wanna spill.”
Michael just rolled his eyes at her laugh.
"I don't know what you're trying to say there but I don't think I'm a fan of it. But whatever, I've got better shit to worry about."
Listening to her asking to help, he just sighs, shaking his head...
"You... misunderstand me. I'm not looking for someone, I came here because of someone. I... I got invited here because my invitation said I could win a shit ton of cash if I fought a few people. And taking care of my mom isn't cheap. The money I was getting from my fights just... wasn't cutting it. So I took the chance, and I lost, because I got killed by a fucking clown. Happy now?"
She smiles at him, mischievous and full of life.
But it drops as he explains his story. Her eyes are round and filled with empathy. "Of..." Tatya takes a second to think. "Of course I'm not happy. You've gone through shit. No one could be happy about that. You didn't deserve any of it and I'm sorry."
She looks away for a second. Everyone else... Well. It was only right that she share since he shared as well. "I wasn't as... Altruistic, when I came to the manor. It was a complete accident. I was drunk off my ass. Kinda wanted to die. Need a place to puke my guts out. All over some guy. And I just... Stumbled in."
Tatya reaches down to her garter to pull out her sparkly flask and unscrew it. She takes a swig.
"Yeah, well don't give me any pity. The only reason I'm upset is cause I had to abandon my ma by dying. The rest of it I'm fine with, I kinda deserved it. And I'm not saying that in an 'oh woe is me' kinda way, I mean literally. I was killed in self defense, I attacked first. It was me or them, and I lost, fair and square."
He raised an eyebrow, before sighing and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle.
"Here. Bourbon. Tastes like shit but it'll make you feel better. God knows it makes me feel better. I have more in my room, anyway."
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t pity you. That implies I’m better than you. No I’m just upset that bad things happen. Ya know? I don’t need your permission for that, do I?”
Tatya takes the bottle and looks at it, taking a small swig and making a little face at the taste.
“You were right,” she giggles, “you know I can always get you some better stuff, right? I send Bartie on trips out of the manor all of the time.”
“Not as bad as mine, though. If I’m being honest.” She shakes her flask a little bit. “It’s Everclear. Want some?” She laughs as she holds it closer for him to take if he wants some.
"Alright, alright, I get it. God, you're stubborn. Technically you don't need my permission for anything."
He sighs, looking at her flask with an eyebrow raised.
"...As tempting as it is to swap spit with some random girl I just met, I'm gonna have to pass. Thanks for the offer, though. And frankly, I don't think I want better stuff. Drinking isn't supposed to be enjoyable, it's like... medicine. I know. It's a fucked up way of looking at it. Sue me."
“I am fully aware,” she laughs, “and thank fuck for that.”
She blinks at him and pulls her flask back to her mouth with a… bit of a judgemental expression. Drinking from the same flask is generally not what she would call…. Swapping spit.
“Suit yourself, darlin.” She shrugs and screws the cap back on. “I’m not gonna judge someone for how they cope. Not gonna help someone who doesn’t wanna be helped either. I, on the other hand am gonna keep enjoying strawberry daiquiris… when I can get my hands on them.”
Tatya pauses mid sip and says “WAIT! Last prying question, I swear… When are you from? Because that’s gonna determines lot of my references.”
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Trust me. I've heard it all before. I dunno if I'll want to be helped some day, but right now I don't think I'm ready for any kind of help, frankly. You're the first person I've had a conversation with since I've died, anyway."
He's about to turn around to leave when she stops him, and asks an incredibly bizarre question. He doesn't even know what the hell to make of that.
"Are... you asking what year it is or something? 1900. Kinda hard to forget. Honestly though I guess I've been asked weirder shit so I shouldn't be all that surprised."
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya blinks. Pauses. Releases Bartie and lets him scuttle away. Then looks at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“Honey, if I was flirting, you would be swooning.” She sticks her tongue out. “Seriously, I’m just a social gal! And I like having friends. I haven’t seen you before so I wanted to know more about you. I’m not looking for entertainment, trust me. If I wanted that, I would have gone off to sock Preston by now.”
She smiles and uses her short skirt to curtesy. “Sooooo…. Earlier you said you wouldn’t go back in the ring? Does that mean you like a fighter? Did you come to the manor for a fight?”
She…. Is not gonna let him go without a decent conversation.
“Hah. Trust me, I’m a little more stable than to fall for a gal who flirts with me once. I’m used to that kinda thing after a fight.”
He sighs a bit, rubbing the back of his head as his ponytail ends up flipping what shoulder it’s resting up against.
“Oh yeah, I’m a boxer. A professional one, since I was eighteen. So… for six years, now. I know. I look older than I am. Just call it a mix of stress and drinking and move on with it. Anyway, that’s not why I came to the manor. I came… for someone else. Family stuff.”
Tatya snorts. She has performed for plenty of ‘stable’ guys before. And they have all tipped pretty well.
“You don’t look that old, if you ask me. You’re looking pretty spry for a dead guy.” She shrugs as she leans against the same wall and a rather extreme angle.
“Hm. Looking for someone? I could help you find them if you wanted. I know almost everyone here. That’s why I was so surprised when I saw you.” She offers, earnest in her desire to help. “If not that’s cool. You’re very… Reserved. So I can understand if you don’t wanna spill.”
Michael just rolled his eyes at her laugh.
"I don't know what you're trying to say there but I don't think I'm a fan of it. But whatever, I've got better shit to worry about."
Listening to her asking to help, he just sighs, shaking his head...
"You... misunderstand me. I'm not looking for someone, I came here because of someone. I... I got invited here because my invitation said I could win a shit ton of cash if I fought a few people. And taking care of my mom isn't cheap. The money I was getting from my fights just... wasn't cutting it. So I took the chance, and I lost, because I got killed by a fucking clown. Happy now?"
She smiles at him, mischievous and full of life.
But it drops as he explains his story. Her eyes are round and filled with empathy. "Of..." Tatya takes a second to think. "Of course I'm not happy. You've gone through shit. No one could be happy about that. You didn't deserve any of it and I'm sorry."
She looks away for a second. Everyone else... Well. It was only right that she share since he shared as well. "I wasn't as... Altruistic, when I came to the manor. It was a complete accident. I was drunk off my ass. Kinda wanted to die. Need a place to puke my guts out. All over some guy. And I just... Stumbled in."
Tatya reaches down to her garter to pull out her sparkly flask and unscrew it. She takes a swig.
"Yeah, well don't give me any pity. The only reason I'm upset is cause I had to abandon my ma by dying. The rest of it I'm fine with, I kinda deserved it. And I'm not saying that in an 'oh woe is me' kinda way, I mean literally. I was killed in self defense, I attacked first. It was me or them, and I lost, fair and square."
He raised an eyebrow, before sighing and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle.
"Here. Bourbon. Tastes like shit but it'll make you feel better. God knows it makes me feel better. I have more in my room, anyway."
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t pity you. That implies I’m better than you. No I’m just upset that bad things happen. Ya know? I don’t need your permission for that, do I?”
Tatya takes the bottle and looks at it, taking a small swig and making a little face at the taste.
“You were right,” she giggles, “you know I can always get you some better stuff, right? I send Bartie on trips out of the manor all of the time.”
“Not as bad as mine, though. If I’m being honest.” She shakes her flask a little bit. “It’s Everclear. Want some?” She laughs as she holds it closer for him to take if he wants some.
"Alright, alright, I get it. God, you're stubborn. Technically you don't need my permission for anything."
He sighs, looking at her flask with an eyebrow raised.
"...As tempting as it is to swap spit with some random girl I just met, I'm gonna have to pass. Thanks for the offer, though. And frankly, I don't think I want better stuff. Drinking isn't supposed to be enjoyable, it's like... medicine. I know. It's a fucked up way of looking at it. Sue me."
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya blinks. Pauses. Releases Bartie and lets him scuttle away. Then looks at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“Honey, if I was flirting, you would be swooning.” She sticks her tongue out. “Seriously, I’m just a social gal! And I like having friends. I haven’t seen you before so I wanted to know more about you. I’m not looking for entertainment, trust me. If I wanted that, I would have gone off to sock Preston by now.”
She smiles and uses her short skirt to curtesy. “Sooooo…. Earlier you said you wouldn’t go back in the ring? Does that mean you like a fighter? Did you come to the manor for a fight?”
She…. Is not gonna let him go without a decent conversation.
“Hah. Trust me, I’m a little more stable than to fall for a gal who flirts with me once. I’m used to that kinda thing after a fight.”
He sighs a bit, rubbing the back of his head as his ponytail ends up flipping what shoulder it’s resting up against.
“Oh yeah, I’m a boxer. A professional one, since I was eighteen. So… for six years, now. I know. I look older than I am. Just call it a mix of stress and drinking and move on with it. Anyway, that’s not why I came to the manor. I came… for someone else. Family stuff.”
Tatya snorts. She has performed for plenty of ‘stable’ guys before. And they have all tipped pretty well.
“You don’t look that old, if you ask me. You’re looking pretty spry for a dead guy.” She shrugs as she leans against the same wall and a rather extreme angle.
“Hm. Looking for someone? I could help you find them if you wanted. I know almost everyone here. That’s why I was so surprised when I saw you.” She offers, earnest in her desire to help. “If not that’s cool. You’re very… Reserved. So I can understand if you don’t wanna spill.”
Michael just rolled his eyes at her laugh.
"I don't know what you're trying to say there but I don't think I'm a fan of it. But whatever, I've got better shit to worry about."
Listening to her asking to help, he just sighs, shaking his head...
"You... misunderstand me. I'm not looking for someone, I came here because of someone. I... I got invited here because my invitation said I could win a shit ton of cash if I fought a few people. And taking care of my mom isn't cheap. The money I was getting from my fights just... wasn't cutting it. So I took the chance, and I lost, because I got killed by a fucking clown. Happy now?"
She smiles at him, mischievous and full of life.
But it drops as he explains his story. Her eyes are round and filled with empathy. "Of..." Tatya takes a second to think. "Of course I'm not happy. You've gone through shit. No one could be happy about that. You didn't deserve any of it and I'm sorry."
She looks away for a second. Everyone else... Well. It was only right that she share since he shared as well. "I wasn't as... Altruistic, when I came to the manor. It was a complete accident. I was drunk off my ass. Kinda wanted to die. Need a place to puke my guts out. All over some guy. And I just... Stumbled in."
Tatya reaches down to her garter to pull out her sparkly flask and unscrew it. She takes a swig.
"Yeah, well don't give me any pity. The only reason I'm upset is cause I had to abandon my ma by dying. The rest of it I'm fine with, I kinda deserved it. And I'm not saying that in an 'oh woe is me' kinda way, I mean literally. I was killed in self defense, I attacked first. It was me or them, and I lost, fair and square."
He raised an eyebrow, before sighing and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small bottle.
"Here. Bourbon. Tastes like shit but it'll make you feel better. God knows it makes me feel better. I have more in my room, anyway."
r u gay
"No."
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya blinks. Pauses. Releases Bartie and lets him scuttle away. Then looks at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“Honey, if I was flirting, you would be swooning.” She sticks her tongue out. “Seriously, I’m just a social gal! And I like having friends. I haven’t seen you before so I wanted to know more about you. I’m not looking for entertainment, trust me. If I wanted that, I would have gone off to sock Preston by now.”
She smiles and uses her short skirt to curtesy. “Sooooo…. Earlier you said you wouldn’t go back in the ring? Does that mean you like a fighter? Did you come to the manor for a fight?”
She…. Is not gonna let him go without a decent conversation.
“Hah. Trust me, I’m a little more stable than to fall for a gal who flirts with me once. I’m used to that kinda thing after a fight.”
He sighs a bit, rubbing the back of his head as his ponytail ends up flipping what shoulder it’s resting up against.
“Oh yeah, I’m a boxer. A professional one, since I was eighteen. So… for six years, now. I know. I look older than I am. Just call it a mix of stress and drinking and move on with it. Anyway, that’s not why I came to the manor. I came… for someone else. Family stuff.”
Tatya snorts. She has performed for plenty of ‘stable’ guys before. And they have all tipped pretty well.
“You don’t look that old, if you ask me. You’re looking pretty spry for a dead guy.” She shrugs as she leans against the same wall and a rather extreme angle.
“Hm. Looking for someone? I could help you find them if you wanted. I know almost everyone here. That’s why I was so surprised when I saw you.” She offers, earnest in her desire to help. “If not that’s cool. You’re very… Reserved. So I can understand if you don’t wanna spill.”
Michael just rolled his eyes at her laugh.
"I don't know what you're trying to say there but I don't think I'm a fan of it. But whatever, I've got better shit to worry about."
Listening to her asking to help, he just sighs, shaking his head...
"You... misunderstand me. I'm not looking for someone, I came here because of someone. I... I got invited here because my invitation said I could win a shit ton of cash if I fought a few people. And taking care of my mom isn't cheap. The money I was getting from my fights just... wasn't cutting it. So I took the chance, and I lost, because I got killed by a fucking clown. Happy now?"
I think Ada could help? I mean she lost her license to smash, but like. Ya know.
“…Didn’t she kidnap someone or something? I think I’ll take my chances with booze and cigarettes, thanks. At least then I get to decide when I die.”
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya blinks. Pauses. Releases Bartie and lets him scuttle away. Then looks at Michael with a raised eyebrow.
“Honey, if I was flirting, you would be swooning.” She sticks her tongue out. “Seriously, I’m just a social gal! And I like having friends. I haven’t seen you before so I wanted to know more about you. I’m not looking for entertainment, trust me. If I wanted that, I would have gone off to sock Preston by now.”
She smiles and uses her short skirt to curtesy. “Sooooo…. Earlier you said you wouldn’t go back in the ring? Does that mean you like a fighter? Did you come to the manor for a fight?”
She…. Is not gonna let him go without a decent conversation.
“Hah. Trust me, I’m a little more stable than to fall for a gal who flirts with me once. I’m used to that kinda thing after a fight.”
He sighs a bit, rubbing the back of his head as his ponytail ends up flipping what shoulder it’s resting up against.
“Oh yeah, I’m a boxer. A professional one, since I was eighteen. So… for six years, now. I know. I look older than I am. Just call it a mix of stress and drinking and move on with it. Anyway, that’s not why I came to the manor. I came… for someone else. Family stuff.”
Go to therapy
“Oh wow, why didn’t I think of that? Point me to a therapist in this manor that doesn’t have a criminal record. Then we’ll talk.”
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
“Mhm! That’s him! You two are… Very similar.” She smiles affectionately.
Tatya picks up Bartie and holds him under her arm like a dog. She looks at him with a knowing gaze and snorts. He doesn’t have better things to do, he’s stuck in a hell manor.
“I don’t need anything, I guess. I just like talking to people. So if you wanna get rid of me I guess I can go.” She sticks her tongue out and squeezes Bartie.
Michael just kinda stood there, leaning against the wall, his eyebrow raised. What was this girl on about? And why was she so adamant to talk to him of all people?
"...Are you hitting on me or something? I'm not telling you to scram, I already yelled at you earlier so that would just feel... not great. I'm just telling you outright I don't have much to talk about. All I do is walk around and work out now and then. I'm not exactly what someone would call a source of entertainment here."
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."
Tatya takes the information in and purses her lips, though seems to calm down at the second piece of information. “Oh. Okay that makes sense. I should tell Brendan that, though. He’s a lot like you. He’s really big on figuring out the manor. Except he technically won his game? It’s a whole mess.”
“Excuse me for a second.” She squats down and turns away from Michael to whisper-yell, “Bartie! Get over here!”
A patroller with a bow tie scuttles up to her with its tongue lolled out.
“Bartholomew. Have I been able to leave the manor this whole time and you just didn’t tell me?”
“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ’ᵗ ᵃˢᵏ”
… “Fuck you, Bartie.” She stands up and turns back to Michael. “Sorry about that.”
"Brendan... Oh yeah, I think I remember his file. At least what I was able to read of it before they kicked me out. He was part of the first game, if I remember that shit."
He kinda watches her talk to this strange little creature thing, his eyebrow raised a bit but honestly he's got better things to worry about than whatever the hell that was.
"Uh, yeah, sure. Do you need anything else? I'm really not a fan of small talk. I can answer your questions if you have them but other than that I'm not much use for conversation."
Tatya is wandering around with Bartie in her arms, talking to him when she spots… GASP! Someone new! And she didn’t prepare a welcome basket! “Oh! Oh hello! Hi! I have seen you before!” She gently drops her patroller onto the ground to frantically wave with a big smile. (@tatya-time) (NEW BOY! MINE!!!)
Michael leans up against a wall, seeing the girl approach him. He does not look like he's in the mood to make friends. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, lighting it up before taking a long breath of it, groaning a bit to himself as he exhales.
"I've been here just as long as anyone else. More or less. You need something?"
He used to have girls like her come up to him and ask for an autograph. But those days are long gone now.
Tatya laughs as she walks up to him. “Really? Damn! I must have missed you somehow! It is a big manor, I guess.”
She bounces to a stop in front of him with her hands held behind her back as she appraises him. “Oh shit sorry, I’m Tatya! And you are?”
She has never been the one to be passive when it comes to making friends… So he will have to do much more if he doesn’t want her to like him!
"Can you keep it down!? You're annoying the hell outta me!!"
Michael punches the wall next to him after a sudden outburst, leaving a crack in the wall. His face darkens after that, and he tries to avoid eye contact with her.
"...Sorry. They don't got anger management here. I had a hell of a streak before I got here too. Not that it matters anymore. The name's... Michael. But just... don't call me anything. I'm not a good guy, ok? So just... scram."
Tatya covers her mouth with a little ‘oop’. “Sorry,” she whispers, “I tend to be… Loud. Thanks for letting me know.” She smiles at him anyway.
She stares at the crack in the wall and suppresses a giggle.
“I mean they do have a psychologist but he’s a total quack.” Tatya snorts. “And, no offense, but I think I’ll make that judgement for myself. Too many good people have called themselves awful things here. And too many asshats think highly of themselves.”
The dancer walks up to the wall where the crack is to run a finger along it. “So. Let’s keeping talking. Okay, Mikey?”
"Fuck, yeah, I... I'm sorry. God, this is so fuckin' embarrassing. Look, I... I promise I'm not, like, violent or anything. I just. Yeah. Just try to keep it down a little. I'm not a fan of the... whole high energy thing."
He sighs, rubbing his temples and putting the cigarette back into the corner of his mouth, just trying to keep himself calm. Even though personally he's a little more interesting when he's mad, but whatever.
"Yeah, from what I've seen from the roster books, I don't think either the psychiatrist or the psychologist can really be trusted. From what I've read they both kinda seem like nutjobs. But it's fine, I just drink til I can't stand straight enough to hurt anyone."
“Oh hush, you’re fine darlin’.” She waves her hand. “You seem sweet. I mean it. And I’ll try to keep it down.“ it would be a little hard. She is…. Loud in all regards. But if a new friend asks it if her, she will do her best.
“Yeah. I’ve met Preston. He’s a… Delight.” She says it with a distinct Southern hiss. “I would steer clear of him but… I owe him a kick to the nuts for someone. So I’m gonna have to see him some time.”
Her eyes light up when he mentions drinking. “I do-!” She stops her self from yelling, “I did that. That’s how I got killed. That’s why I’m I’m in the manor. Actually, I always send Bartie out to get the good shit, so if you ever want some lemme know.”
"I haven't actually met the guy, so good luck with that."
He just sighed and crossed his arms as he listened to her speak, but... oh, shit. Something that she said just caught his attention.
"Wait... you died too? Like... in your game? Is that why you're stuck in this damn mansion too? God, I hate this fuckin' feeling. I'm already dead, shouldn't I just be able to rest already? It's not like I'm ever gonna see the ring again..."
“Why thank you. I have faith in my abilities.” She laughs a little bit, melodically like a bell.
But she startles at his questions a bit, but moves on quickly enough. “No, no! I was killed in my room. I got better after like two weeks and got put back in my body. I’m still a little… Off though, if that’s what you mean.” Tatya scratches the back of her neck. Seeing ghosts has been a real bitch.
“I think there are a few things preventing us from leaving? I’m not sure, this place seems to not follow the same rules for everyone.” She sighs.
He raises an eyebrow, and chuckles a bit to himself. Looks like the big lug is finally starting to ease up a bit.
"Hah, no wonder you got better. Researching stuff is kinda a... hobby of mine. Back at the gym they used to call me the Analyst. Once I knew how someone fought, I'd never lose to them again. The only death here that matters is dying your game. If you die then, you're stuck here. Like, you're a lost soul or some shit. You physically can't leave the property. If you live, though, then you can leave whenever, and dying here after that doesn't matter. That's how it's worked for the people I know, at least."
He sighs, shaking his head.
"This place probably does work a little differently for different people. If it helps, the only time I've seen this set of rules really take place is when the games people died in were marked with a Hebrew letter. Not sure why that makes a difference, but if you want to know, now you do."