Aperture Cafeteria

No, we don't have any damn cake.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

'Is the bread gluten free?'

The bread has been desiccated in a package for 500 years. Anything remotely resembling gluten disintegrated around year 305.

Bon appetit, genius.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApertureReality /Fuck./ *Is it worth leaving cover to grab the bottle of whiskey? Debating. Grips his cleaver tighter.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*Hears something coming. Somethings. Knife in one hand, axe in the other.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

Maybe it’s safe...? *Hears crashing in the distance.* Nope nope nope fuck that /fuck all of that/.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*Hiding. Fucking /hiding/. Whiskey in one hand, meat cleaver in the other.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

…What the hell is that noise?

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*Holds the Datapad in his hands like it’s a foreign object.*

Username? Shit…username…I think I wrote that down once…

*Puts the thing down and starts rummaging for that scrap of paper.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*The sting of alcohol down his throat is…welcome, definitely. Soothes the burn on his hand, the ache in his stomach. Just a little. Just enough.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

/Finally/…*Enters his kitchen with a heavy, relieved sigh.* Never been so happy to see this shit hole.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*Pointedly avoids the still present pile of scrap metal that used to be Whitney and Connie. Heads instead to the back, rooting around for the one flask he secretly kept.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

*At least he’s caught his breath again. Wishes he could just /message/ the others, see if he could just ask for their locations.

But he…doesn’t know how to use the Ping system.

...Or his tablet. Has never even turned it on.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

I hate this place /I hate this place/.

*Slower than before, holding his stomach, he starts trying to find a way back to his kitchen.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley *Flees as best as he can. /Damn/ that sucker punch hurt. Thankfully the clicking of her heels ceases after a bit, and he takes that moment to lean against a wall and catch his breath.*

…Can’t believe…she /actually/ punched me...

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley *Staggers back (having thankfully regained his sense of self-preservation) and turns, trying to get away as fast as he can.*

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley Shi—

*He didn’t expect her to /actually punch him/! He doubles over, the wind is knocked out of him. He switches between focusing on getting air back into his lungs and swatting at his now smoking, slightly singed shirt.*

What—the——FUCK?! You /actually/ punched me?!

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley *Eyes widen slightly. Connie and Whitney didn’t do /anything/ like that. But still, he stands his ground. He works in the kitchen, a little bit of fire is child’s play in his eyes.*

In case you needed some more help, next is “Two”.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley *He has the urge to run but something tells him to stay put. Feet planted, arms crossed, staring straight at her.*

Three.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley You’re got to be kidding.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley What?

Are you serious?

I don’t think you’re serious. Two seconds ago you were asking for a kiss.

[Aperture Cafeteria @ApertureCafe]

@ApSciRiley I was /NOT/ scared. Was not. Am not.

I work in the /kitchen/. I barely passed high school Chemistry. I’m not a /nerd/ for God sakes.