Oh, yes, of course, because that's not archaic and barbaric and extremely unnecessary? Let's display the power and ability to reach across universes and transport unsuspecting individuals across space and time and then install vampire doors! Because that makes sense!
[Were you still sleeping? Rodney isn't, and that is a loud affair. His voice is an indignant, exasperated clamoring while he busily checks every inch of the door for a panel, for conduits, wiring, anything he can maybe tap into and manipulate. Though with what he has no idea as of yet.]
Mayor, huh? Mayor of what, Vagueville? "You may be wondering why you're trapped in this room." Uh, yeah, and guess what? [Tilting his neck back to shout at the ceiling.] Still wondering! I mean, why put a letter in the first place and then have it be as useless as humanly possible!
[And so on. But he's running out of ideas what to try here, so when he notices his fellow arrival he reaches out and snaps his fingers at them.]
You, other person. Get over here. We need your blood.
ii. roller rink
[On second thought, he'd rather go back to the blood doors.
Rodney's face is more than forbidding when he faces this entirely new challenge. The whole 80s vibe is off-putting, reminds him of university and pimples and horrendous attempts of asking out girls. Then there is the whole issue of a party, namely the people and the mingling. He stands awkwardly to the side, with a plate filled to the brim with food he keeps stuffing into his mouth.
Then he accidentally makes eye-contact with somebody and the chewing slows with the dreaded realization that he now has to say something.]
So. Did you, uh, bleed all over the door, too?
[Then, later, there is the prospect of technology. Crude 80s technology, yes, but walkman-technology is still better than no-technology and he will try to get his hands on any device, battery, spare part that he can. Even if it means trying to complete a lap and actually go out there skating.
Skating in this case is a stretch. It's more hanging to the boards, rolls skidding noisily as he tries to tug himself forward with the grace of a toddler.
A very angry toddler.]
Stupid-- come on, get-- will you just-- okay, this is not what the wheel was invented for!!
iii. - mall rats
[Well, isn't this great. If he had known there would be a gift card, he would have spared himself the absolute humiliation at the rink.
He's browsing Cutting Edge Electronics, trying to pick and choose between the different devices and determine which ones might prove the most useful. Which is impossible because it's impossible to tell what he will need. Except that he will probably need a lot. But he can't buy a lot. So he's in a bad mood. Again.
He huffs, throwing an oversized power adapter back into the bargain bin.]
This is ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with this, DOS our way out of here?
[Or he may see something someone else has in their hands. While Rodney doesn't know what he wants, he suddenly knows that he wants that and the FOMO hits him with the force of a thousand angry tech-deprived suns.]
Hey! Hey, that one was mine, I just, uh, put it aside for browsing.
Dr. Rodney McKay | Stargate: Atlantis
Oh, yes, of course, because that's not archaic and barbaric and extremely unnecessary? Let's display the power and ability to reach across universes and transport unsuspecting individuals across space and time and then install vampire doors! Because that makes sense!
[Were you still sleeping? Rodney isn't, and that is a loud affair. His voice is an indignant, exasperated clamoring while he busily checks every inch of the door for a panel, for conduits, wiring, anything he can maybe tap into and manipulate. Though with what he has no idea as of yet.]
Mayor, huh? Mayor of what, Vagueville? "You may be wondering why you're trapped in this room." Uh, yeah, and guess what? [Tilting his neck back to shout at the ceiling.] Still wondering! I mean, why put a letter in the first place and then have it be as useless as humanly possible!
[And so on. But he's running out of ideas what to try here, so when he notices his fellow arrival he reaches out and snaps his fingers at them.]
You, other person. Get over here. We need your blood.
ii. roller rink
[On second thought, he'd rather go back to the blood doors.
Rodney's face is more than forbidding when he faces this entirely new challenge. The whole 80s vibe is off-putting, reminds him of university and pimples and horrendous attempts of asking out girls. Then there is the whole issue of a party, namely the people and the mingling. He stands awkwardly to the side, with a plate filled to the brim with food he keeps stuffing into his mouth.
Then he accidentally makes eye-contact with somebody and the chewing slows with the dreaded realization that he now has to say something.]
So. Did you, uh, bleed all over the door, too?
[Then, later, there is the prospect of technology. Crude 80s technology, yes, but walkman-technology is still better than no-technology and he will try to get his hands on any device, battery, spare part that he can. Even if it means trying to complete a lap and actually go out there skating.
Skating in this case is a stretch. It's more hanging to the boards, rolls skidding noisily as he tries to tug himself forward with the grace of a toddler.
A very angry toddler.]
Stupid-- come on, get-- will you just-- okay, this is not what the wheel was invented for!!
iii. - mall rats
[Well, isn't this great. If he had known there would be a gift card, he would have spared himself the absolute humiliation at the rink.
He's browsing Cutting Edge Electronics, trying to pick and choose between the different devices and determine which ones might prove the most useful. Which is impossible because it's impossible to tell what he will need. Except that he will probably need a lot. But he can't buy a lot. So he's in a bad mood. Again.
He huffs, throwing an oversized power adapter back into the bargain bin.]
This is ridiculous. What am I supposed to do with this, DOS our way out of here?
[Or he may see something someone else has in their hands. While Rodney doesn't know what he wants, he suddenly knows that he wants that and the FOMO hits him with the force of a thousand angry tech-deprived suns.]
Hey! Hey, that one was mine, I just, uh, put it aside for browsing.
[Trying to snatch that now, thank you.]
iv. wildcard
[hit me! c:]