hadriel | [1] Video

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[1] Video

(To be honest, he had completely forgotten about his communication device until he saw it sitting on his bed. He forgot about all of the contacts, the people he mostly didn't know. It's not until after the buried event that he even thinks to utilize this broad form of communication. Suddenly he sees the benefit in it, the reason why people might want to use this sort of thing beyond private talking.

So Newt's set it up and a feed of him sitting on a mattress on a floor begins to flow through to the network. He's in clean clothes and looks clean enough overall but his hands are covered in tightly wrapped bandages and he looks rather tired.)

Hi, everyone.

(He doesn't seem to be awkward at all. Like someone whose had to address groups of people before. There's no hesitance, no shift or uncertain pause of what to say next. He's already thought it through.)

My name's Newt. I haven't met most of you yet but that's okay. What I'm about to say applies to everyone, regardless of whether or not we know each other.

I know that everyone sort of just went through their own personal hell. Whether you were buried alive or looking for someone you care about- it sucks, it really sucks and I hope to God that we found everyone.

(His eyes roll upwards and he actually does look serious, looks genuinely pained at the idea that maybe they didn't. That maybe, just maybe, they had somehow missed someone. He doesn't linger on it though. This video has a point. He clears his throat and looks back to the camera and offers a slight grin.)

I know that the clinic has been helping people a lot. But - well, shock is a pretty nasty thing and it's a bloody reckoning waiting to happen if you're on your own too much. And not everyone's all too great about properly taking care of themselves when they're- they're bad off. I don't know if everyone has someone here to look out for them so- I don't know. Shuck it-

(He spreads his hands open and shrugs his shoulders.)

If you need something, let me know. I've made a load of sandwiches and don't mind bringing them over. Stew too. A lot of you are probably dead tired still so that's fine. I've got tea- and apparently my tea isn't too buggin' bad at all- and if you just need company...

(He puts his arms back down, fiddling with the bandages on his hand. The smile he offers is now a bit hesitant. It's a broad statement but he means it all the same. Being shocked can really hurt a person, deeper than some can even handle. Sometimes being alone is the worst thing for them and he gets that. He really, really does.)

I can sit around with you or talk to you through here. Doesn't matter to me. So here's hoping to everyone being okay. Anyway, see you lot around.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A load of sandwiches minus two.

[yes, he's in the other room. what of it.]

Those aren't for you.

(Enjoy a deadpan expression. Silently judging you, Peter.)

Too late. They were just sitting there on the table looking delicious.

[unrepentant as ever.]

See if I make you dinner tonight.

(Peter this will never end well for you.)

See what happens to your kitchen if you make me cook for myself.

[this is not an idle threat, even if presented as one.]

You think I wouldn't make you clean it up? That's precious.

(Annnnd now he's snorting.)

Besides, I don't think making yourself a sandwich really constitutes as 'cooking'.

Nah, I guess it doesn't. I could make two more sandwiches, similar to these ones, but lacking the loving quality that you have so obviously put into them.

[shut up, peter.]