The classroom was both as silent and as chaotic as it's ever been.
It'd been... who knows how many days since the stapler had first entered the Eternal Algebra Class Withfour; there wasn't a single clock in sight, no regular reoccurrences to get *any* point of references, and his head was far too full of regrets and concerns to keep track of the time ticking by somewhere in the back of his mind. Everything was the same. Always. The low hum of the lights overhead, the stale air, the frigid floors, the chatter of the eliminated that ran and meandered wildly in the absence of *anything* to do. That was already bad enough, but of *course* there was always a surprise or two in store to keep them on their toes, ensuring that they never really felt safe. The algebralian that locked them up here all those years (maybe, maybe not; but you can't exactly disprove one or the other) ago would sometimes check in, either to say hello, give them a new assignment, introduce them to a new classmate, or... the usual thing. They'd talk about that, do something about it, then it was back to the same old stuff. More talking. More doodling. More wishing. More hoping. This place was paradoxically better *and* worse than the cramped metal boxes of yore that awaited those that got the boot in the early seasons; those were absolutely devoid of anything remotely exciting or palatable, but at the very least there was a chance for escape. A chance for freedom. Here, your life rests solely on whatever Four felt like that day.
Which is probably why everyone else spent *so* much time trying their hardest to focus on anything *but* that.
Immediately upon being introduced to his prison for the rest of his days- after his sole shot in getting out of there ASAP, that brief flicker of hope, was quickly extinguished -he'd immediately look for something or other to fixate on, something to ease the pain of continuing to live in such a desolate, horrific world. That sole focus of his attention ended up being how to make himself comfortable in his new corner of the world... realm... whatever this place was. Four was someone that cared absolutely little about the wellbeing and comfort of their contestants, and this was certainly no exception; Stapy was given a regular seat and desk to call home, with absolutely no modifications whatsoever to suit his shape.
Sitting on it in the way one regularly would resulted in him appearing to dangle off his seat, as if one strong gust of wind (though it's not like any would arise) could easily tip him over the edge and send him plummeting. The design of the desks thankfully had supports that he could rest on, but it just didn't feel quite right. Basically half of his body was just resting on nothing, and while he was fairly certain that his position was secure, it was just... off. It's just one of those things that you had a feeling for, something that wasn't guided by reason or common sense; just like stapler instincts. Turning himself 90 degrees allowed him to adjust his posture to be somewhat more comfortable; he could center the location where he found rest and support, and he could adjust what parts of his body continued to dangle, shifting ever so gradually to find that perfect balance that finally made things feel just right. But that would end up just posing another problem: now he no longer faced the desk, instead looking either at that talking robot or the wall at all times. Though thankfully Roboty didn't mind being stared at, Stapy still needed that desk for a number of reasons. He *could* just rotate the chair so that he'd still face the desk in his modified stance, but by doing so that'd end up bothering...
Her.
For as long as Stapy could remember, he and his friends had a deep, passionate hatred for Liy. Unlike many of the other great conflicts to have ever graced the competition, however, this particular one didn't seem to have any specific cause; one day things were normal, then the next they appeared and started squabbling about everything under the sun. It just seemed like one of the regular, unchanging, fixed constants of the universe; one of the scarce, rare things that are actually permanent in this world, and also *just* so happen to be the things that keep it together. The sky is blue, two and two make four, objects unsupported fall to Earth's center, Needle remains overlooked and neglected by the world and her alleged 'friends'. All things that are true from the birth of all creation to its very end. These were the sorts of things you just didn't question, mostly because you probably had other things to worry about at that time. And Stapy *definitely* didn't mind, acting as he'd always done, always reacting angrily to whatever that light switch happened to do that somehow pertained to him. And now that the two of them were stuck in this same prison together, with absolutely no recourse or release from this seemingly eternal torment, things were gonna go *spectacularly*.
