log 007, video

[thestarspangledman]

[Steve is in his cabin, frowning at a pile of clothes laid out on his bed. He is -- well, certainly not the giant hunk of man-meat that the barge has come to expect from his last posts. To be plain, he is a good six inches shorter, skinny and small and slightly pale. Currently, he's wearing an old workout t-shirt that is far too large for him, and a pair of sweatpants that are cinched about as tightly as they can go, and he might be keeping one hand on them just in case.]

Look, I don't know who thought this was funny, or maybe this is a thing you folks do to visitors? But I need something to wear that'll actually fit me.

...Oh, and the dog tags, too? I'm sure those will come in handy, thanks a lot. [He's holding them up in his free hand, giving the camera a tight smile.] After the fifth rejection and everything. You guys sure know how to treat a fella right.

Comments

[aggravating]

You don't get a name until you prove to me you don't disappear when you turn sideways.

C'mon, kid. Just pretend you're on the catwalk or something.

[thestarspangledman]

[His jaw tightens, just a little, but if this is the only way to shut this guy up, he'll do his stupid little turn for him.]

There. You gonna leave me alone now?

[aggravating]

Get some heels, sweetheart, and you'd have an interesting career.

Heels and a pole. And maybe some sort of reverse liposuction because I seriously almost lost track of you from the side, there.