[Pratt, you're so not helping right now! Luckily or unluckily, Steven is too confused to kick him gently to try and get him to focus.]
We never left? [What does that even mean?] You mean-- there's-- we're still there, just chugging along, and. A 'version' of us got split off from that-- reality or timeline or wha'ever and pulled into this place?
[That's mad. And now people are going to think that Steven is a clone of a clone of a clone.]
So. We're not even-- the real us? [Somewhere in that mind palace that looks like Marc's asylum, Steven is doing a psyduck impression. And he's worrying about the last person the Captain tried to send back. What happened to them? Does the Captain even know?]
Did you-- create this. Splintered version of us then? Or did 'the same force that brought us' here bring you here? Is this boat even yours or are you just. Salaried.
[ Clara is an approach with kindness type, so even if she has no idea what to expect. ]
Hello! Clara Oswald. You probably knew that. Anyway, just curious...is there a way to actually use the screen on the pool deck? Or maybe have open mic nights in the theater? You know, let people tell jokes or uh...I dunno, practice their dramatic monologues?
[ ooc: there's so much happening above this comment and here's clara with such a pedestrian request lol. ]
[Pratt huffs because that was an excellent question thank you, and he will hold to it because Steven just asked...] Salaried?
[Okay they need to get their talking points back aligned here. Pratt is fully capable of not being a nerd for twenty minutes. He's got this. ]
Ohhhhh. We're copies. Like from a point in the timeline. Huh. Alright that makes sense. [To Pratt anyway, Steven looks like he might be having an existential crisis that will cause a thermal detonator galaxy brain moment.]
It's cool man, we're the real us, for this version of us. They're there, we're here. [Please don't pass out.] But yeah, what he said, is this all your creation? Or you stuck here like us?
[Pratt is just itching to bring up the waterslide.]
It takes a few days before Ava can trust herself to approach Friday's desk without unfairly taking her misery out on her. She's sure that Friday has gone through this conversation far more times than she'd like. So maybe that'll make it easier for at least one of them.
"Where is he?" she asks, fingers curling over the edge of the counter.
You're as real as you think you are. Not any more or less real than any other version of you - and there are as many of those as there are stars in the sky...
[a pause, then he frowns, crossing his arms in front of himself.]
What is with this... strange desire for there to be some power greater than me involved here? I already have absolute control over you, something I have displayed numerous times before. Do you want there to be more?
[ After her talk with Max, Darcy's just going to meander over to the bridge again, climbing onto the roof to lie sphinx-like, peering over the edge at the door. ]
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