[Fitz volunteers to head down to the basement early into the process. They mention it ought to be as easy as flipping a breaker, but it's been clear to Fitz that absolutely nothing here is that easy. Simplicity is just not in the cards here. But he'll go, because they'll need someone who knows their way around electric design if issues end up complicated.
The dungeon makes him pause, though. The demons chained here don't look particularly hostile, and they certainly don't look any different than the demons that are everywhere else. There's no reason for this torture. If they haven't stopped yet, they're stopping now. He plants his feet firmly and gives his traveling companion a solemn look.]
Well we can't just leave them like this. They'll die down here.
[And that's all there is to it. What could possibly go wrong?]
follow me down 1
[It seemed like a reasonable idea at first. There'd been some horrendous, dirty work down in the basement. Come out for a drink, they'd told him. He didn't want to be rude, so he followed. But this is a little too much for him, as far as partying goes. His idea of a good party is five friends settled around a Netflix documentary. This is abrasive. He grows silent at once, withdrawn. While other people laugh and dance, he gravitates to the perimeter, pressing himself against a wall. He tries not to look as uncomfortable as he feels, but... This is fun? Why do people think this is fun? He doesn't understand. Hopefully he won't have to stay very long before he can mumble some excuse about wanting to beat the rain before it gets bloodier out.]
follow me down 2
[He thinks he's had too many. Or maybe he had just one shot of something that didn't agree with him. But he's been sitting still for three songs straight by now, and he thinks that's a bad sign. It's just that he doesn't feel particularly motivated to move himself when it occurs to him at all. It's like he's hollowed out somehow, distant and lacking purpose.]
... I must be quite drunk. [He announces it to no one in particular as he slouches down further in his seat. He's sure he'll find the will to get up eventually. Maybe. Surely someone will remind him why that was important. He's sure he could break out of this malaise if someone asked nicely enough. It would be wonderful if he could make someone else happy for once.]
Leo Fitz | Marvel TV (crau) | ota
[Fitz volunteers to head down to the basement early into the process. They mention it ought to be as easy as flipping a breaker, but it's been clear to Fitz that absolutely nothing here is that easy. Simplicity is just not in the cards here. But he'll go, because they'll need someone who knows their way around electric design if issues end up complicated.
The dungeon makes him pause, though. The demons chained here don't look particularly hostile, and they certainly don't look any different than the demons that are everywhere else. There's no reason for this torture. If they haven't stopped yet, they're stopping now. He plants his feet firmly and gives his traveling companion a solemn look.]
Well we can't just leave them like this. They'll die down here.
[And that's all there is to it. What could possibly go wrong?]
follow me down 1
[It seemed like a reasonable idea at first. There'd been some horrendous, dirty work down in the basement. Come out for a drink, they'd told him. He didn't want to be rude, so he followed. But this is a little too much for him, as far as partying goes. His idea of a good party is five friends settled around a Netflix documentary. This is abrasive. He grows silent at once, withdrawn. While other people laugh and dance, he gravitates to the perimeter, pressing himself against a wall. He tries not to look as uncomfortable as he feels, but... This is fun? Why do people think this is fun? He doesn't understand. Hopefully he won't have to stay very long before he can mumble some excuse about wanting to beat the rain before it gets bloodier out.]
follow me down 2
[He thinks he's had too many. Or maybe he had just one shot of something that didn't agree with him. But he's been sitting still for three songs straight by now, and he thinks that's a bad sign. It's just that he doesn't feel particularly motivated to move himself when it occurs to him at all. It's like he's hollowed out somehow, distant and lacking purpose.]
... I must be quite drunk. [He announces it to no one in particular as he slouches down further in his seat. He's sure he'll find the will to get up eventually. Maybe. Surely someone will remind him why that was important. He's sure he could break out of this malaise if someone asked nicely enough. It would be wonderful if he could make someone else happy for once.]