Utmv Rp archive

Passing time (Intermission)

Mischief just sat there in his cell, the sounds of footsteps above the cell ringing around the dense concrete walls of the cellar.
 "Heya! Dude at the door! Can I get some water or somethin'? A magazine maybe? Or perhaps some soup?" Mischief spoke sarcastically, trying to pass the time by the annoying whoever was out there. 
Dust stayed quiet for a few seconds before whispering slightly, his voice light but raspy, "Are you dying?" He asked simply, already knowing the answer. 
Mischief tilted his head, trying to shrug but failing, "Depends on which timeline." Mischief said simply. Mischief's voice was like that of a bratty child, so it was quite annoying after a while of it. Masky was surprised that anyone of them could deal with it. 
Dust stayed silent once more as Mischief started kicking his feet, the tapping filling the silence.

The masked one was quiet for a bit before speaking, "Knock knock?" Mischief started the joke to pass the time.
Dust shuffled a little, the sound of his jacket fabric rubbing against the concrete outside the cell flew through the air. "Who's there?" Dust responded, deciding to give up on the deafening silence. 
Mischief thought for a moment before responding, he hadn't thought out his joke before hand. "Juno." Mischief spoke simply, prompting a response from Dust, leaving the one outside the cell to sigh and answer simply.
"Juno who?" 
Mischief snickered to himself, "Juno anything other than bad jokes?" Mischief asked simply, finishing the joke with awkwardness promptly filling the air. 
"You're the one making the jokes." Dust spoke tiredly, moving from his spot beside the cell door, staring at the skeleton in the cell directly as he grabbed the metal bars in front of him with a hand.
"Huh, so the mystery man has a face." Mischief joked to the other, scoffing at the new figure.
"Hm, you seem to lack one of your own." Dust spoke in a monotonal voice like he normally did. Even if Mischief was in the cage and he was outside of it, it still felt like Mischief had the upper hand in his situation, though it was just Dust's gut feeling.

After a few seconds of silence, Dust sighed and walked back to his spot by the cell door, leaning against the concrete wall, he hoped the others will figure out what to do with this masked fellow, he'd rather be dying than babysitting.
 Dust pulled out a deck of cards from one of his pockets, starting to shuffle them like how casino dealers do, maybe that could pass the time.