"Working as a cog in the machine," he says. "Hard to say which is more of an adjustment." How exactly can he say maybe running for your life from things that want to eat your liver every once in a while could be preferable without it being taken as a slight against the Computer? He knows he's not as careful as he should be, when it comes to talking about things, but it's hard.

He just nods in commiseration, there's not much he can add to that.

And they're willing to acknowledge them too. She hadn't so much killed the mood, as introduced an idea that is beyond horrifying. Stiles can imagine it all too easily. "I was thinking along the lines of getting stuck in the "It's a Small World" ride at Disneyland forever," he admits. "And you're just trapped forever as the springs wear down, and the sound starts warping." At which point, he would say anything to get off - so the confessions would likely just be all over the place.

The lights dim, and the rest of the drama club start ushering people into the seats. "We're about to find out."

A yellow suited lady takes the stage, a cloth covered bundle in her other hand, from which she pulls out several poles and cardboard to create a stage - the words Punch and Judy* printed across the top.

((ooc: *video link))