LOCKED TO
alchemicals
[He doesn't remember anything. All he knows is that there's a bright light in his face and he just wants to sleep. After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning he finally opens his eyes and sits up. The room he's in is perfectly white, without any sort of interesting features. There's a desk and a chair, but nothing on either of them. They're as white as the walls and floor, and on closer inspection, the bed he's in is just as white and spotless as the rest of the room. The sheets are a bit on the stiff side even though he's been sleeping under them, and the bed is kind of hard for his liking, so he finally squirms out from under the covers and stands.
The clothes he's wearing strike him as being wrong, though he can't recall what the "right" clothes would be. They're white - like everything else - and they're very simple. He doesn't have anything to compare them to, but the material is soft and kind of thin and feels a little odd. He shrugs off his confusion about the clothes and starts for the door. Even the doorknob is white, which strikes him as strange for about half a second before he yanks the door open.
The room that he enters is spacious. Like the room he woke up in, everything is white. There's a sofa, a small table in front of the sofa, and a couple of plush chairs. There's a couple of doors leading elsewhere, and his first order of business is to see where they lead. One leads to a perfectly white kitchen which isn't interesting right now (though some part of him wonders if the food will be just as white) and the other door he comes to is locked. There should be a front door around here somewhere though, right? He doesn't want to be here. He can't remember why he's here (or anything, really) but being here doesn't seem right.]
The clothes he's wearing strike him as being wrong, though he can't recall what the "right" clothes would be. They're white - like everything else - and they're very simple. He doesn't have anything to compare them to, but the material is soft and kind of thin and feels a little odd. He shrugs off his confusion about the clothes and starts for the door. Even the doorknob is white, which strikes him as strange for about half a second before he yanks the door open.
The room that he enters is spacious. Like the room he woke up in, everything is white. There's a sofa, a small table in front of the sofa, and a couple of plush chairs. There's a couple of doors leading elsewhere, and his first order of business is to see where they lead. One leads to a perfectly white kitchen which isn't interesting right now (though some part of him wonders if the food will be just as white) and the other door he comes to is locked. There should be a front door around here somewhere though, right? He doesn't want to be here. He can't remember why he's here (or anything, really) but being here doesn't seem right.]

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[Well, if he's perfectly honest he's a little hungry, but it's not really enough that he needs to brave the whatever-it-is meat he's been given.]
But you can go ahead and fix whatever you want.
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I can make you something, if you want.
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[He's not sure why all the food in the refrigerator was completely unappetizing. He doesn't think there's anything wrong with it or he'd warn Kimbley, but for some reason it just made his stomach turn.]
I'll... get something in a bit, I guess.
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Look, I get the feeling that I've been alone for a long time, I'm pretty sure I can use the stove without fucking it up. They left something for you, right?
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[Partially because he suspects he really doesn't want that meat cooked. Heated up a tiny bit, maybe, but definitely not cooked.
That said, the expression he makes is probably kind of telling that something's not right.]
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...You okay? You're acting weird again.
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[He tips his head a bit for a moment before deciding that yeah, he's acting weird. He's not sure how he's supposed to act, but this probably isn't it.]
I'm fine. I dunno, I'm touchy about food, I guess? I'll handle it.
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Because of the not-human thing, maybe? I mean, it might be something weird that people normally wouldn't go near.
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[That makes sense though!]
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[Something about it is still striking him as wrong and he can't figure out why. Eventually Naki gets up from the floor and moves toward the kitchen anyway. Maybe if he looks at it again he can figure out why this is bugging him.]
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That said, though, he's more than content to move toward the kitchen and start going through things again; fuck if he knows what he wants, he just knows he wants something.]
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...Well, it's good to know we'll be caffienated for a while, I guess.
[...No, really, it's a bad idea to let this man have coffee.]
Do you want me to do anything with the shit you were going through?
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[...He's kind of made a mess, hasn't he...]
I'll put it back, it's fine!
[Where did all this even go though??]
I dunno, I...
[He hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head and forces himself to keep talking.]
I think-- I think there's something wrong with me. Nothing looks appealing at all, except the stuff in the containers with my name on it. Like... I don't think I'd be able to eat any of this. At all. I don't know why, but it's... pretty gross.
[He doesn't look at Kimbley, he just messes with the sleeves on the simple cotton shirt.]
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...Okay. That's probably because of the...thing. The not-human thing.
[...]
What's in the containers, do you know?
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[He pulls out one of the containers and pops the lid off, looking at the meat again.]
I dunno. It's meat, but I have no idea what kind of meat it is.
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[Granted, he doesn't know how useful he'll be either, but...]
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[Naki hands it over, not thinking anything about it. Hell, you might manage to find something useful, because he sure isn't.]
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...Yeah, I don't know, either.
[Let him just...pass that back over.]
Like I said, it's probably something weird? I'm going to guess it had your name on it for a reason.
no subject
[He puts the lid back on it and shoves it back in the refrigerator, making a face. He hasn't noticed any sort of discomfort from Kimbley.]
Like I said, I'll eat later. I'm just not hungry right now.
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[God, what the hell does he even do with this.]
You can go back to doing whatever it is you were doing in the other room, if you want. I'll join you in a second.
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[He's content to leave it at that. He still doesn't notice anything off, so he'll go back and draw on the walls some more!]
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...Did you find more pens?
[THAT IS AN ACCEPTABLE TOPIC OF CONVERSATION.]
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Nah, but I didn't really look. Do you think they left us more? If they did, that means someone was in here last night...
[And that's creepy.]
...I thought you were gonna fix something to eat?
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