"Hell is other people."

Tamela Hand

"Hahahaha! No need to worry about that... you're not exactly my type."

I turn around, barely addressing the other man, and pick up my notepad. Back to Mortimer.
"So, what really ARE you gonna do with that pencil anyway? Because if you aren't going to use it for anything, then I would very much like to see it. There is a friend I very much need to write to."

Mortimer Pessoa

I say nothing for a moment, just staring at her with a mostly indecipherable expression of mild annoyance before taking the pencil and snapping it sharply in half, handing the strange girl the already sharpened piece of wood.
Striding over to the bookshelf, I grab a nail file, sliding it into my pocket to file down the wood of my own erasered half later, so it's actually usable as a pencil, and not just a stabbing weapon.

"There.  Happy?  Now you can send a letter to absolutely no one, because we're trapped in here forever."

Tamela Hand

I take the pencil.
"We are not alone here you know." I say as i turn away in a flourish and begin to scrawl on my notepad.
My message is nothing more than quick greeting, informing him of my situation.
...
wait, he already knows that. How silly of me!

I rip the paper off the pad and fold it in half; signing my name and his onto it.
I stride across the room to the to the button on the wall.

I stand there in silence for a moment.

This is it... We may finally meet...

I press it.

Elijah Ferguson

I observe my fellow companions borderline bickering, and as Tamela goes to write her letter I sidle up next to Mortimer.

"Mr. Pessoa. Uh. Not that I was planning to or anything..." I mumble, staring at Tamela. "But don't you think that with an eternity in a room with one girl, something would theoretically eventually happen? And... an eternity without getting any sounds a little.... uh. Frustrating."

I quickly backpedal verbally. "I don't mean I want to... with either of you. But your logic seems weak, man."

I watch as Tamela presses the Valet button, raising an eyebrow and genuinely wondering if it will even work.

Mortimer Pessoa

I run my hand through my hair as I follow his gaze to the only other person in this cold marble prison.
Pressing the button like it matters in the end.

"Honest to god, she seems at the very least mildly insane.  But I don't particularly care what you do, just don't irritate me with it.  I have more important things on my mind than getting laid.  Like, you know, the fact that I'll never see the light of day again.  That kind of thing."

I slide the notebook into my coat, laying down on one of the hard slabs of stone and staring up at the ceiling as I consider the facts.  There is likely no way out.  You can't exactly escape divine punishment by some carefully ordered words.  Not even death provides an escape, given that I'm already dead.

Elijah Ferguson

I halfway groan as my trail of thought is corrupted with the crippling reminder that I am, in fact, in hell. I lean against the closest wall and slump to the floor, eyes blankly staring at nothing. I contemplate the last moments of my life, and the fact that I'm sitting here in the afterlife, stuck with a morbidly depressed man, and a potentially insane girl.

I open my notebook, flipping to a random page. I briefly think that this page. This page is my life.

Riiiiiiiiip.

And thats my life ending.

Crumple.

And thats my afterlife collapsing in on itself, being stuck with Mr. Downer here.

I fling the paper ball I have just made halfheartedly towards Mortimer's head. "Damn. You're bumming me out, man."

Mortimer Pessoa

I don't flinch as a wad of paper hits me lightly on the side of the head.  I don't even blink, just staring up at the blank ceiling with an expression of absolute defeat.

"Welcome to Hell.  If I go insane after a few centuries, just slap me a couple times."

I adjust myself so I'm looking at the door.  If that Valet really shows up again, I'd like to place a few requests.  Namely some bourbon.  Or gin.  Or some grappa would be absolutely fantastic, even though I doubt they would be so kind as to send up anything other than fermented urine, considering making us miserable is their game.

Tamela Hand

I stand there waiting, staring at the button.
Did it work? Did I not press it hard enough?
Perhaps it is some sort of com-like system.
I press it again, holding it down this time.
"Hello? Valet? Receptionist? Anyone there?" I say, staring at the button still as I release it once more.

I just have to be patient. Just a little longer. I've waited decades for this, I can wait a few minutes...

Minutes... That's all. Minutes...
...
....
........

Elijah Ferguson

I lay back on the ground, idly ripping another sheet of paper from my notebook, folding it neatly only to unfold it and refold it at a different angle. I watch Tamela and the door silently. "Maybe it's busted. Give it some time. Why don't you sit down and socialize?"

Tamela Hand

...
He's probably right... Just wait...

but the door is right over there... You could find a way to open it.
Maybe... But that will be plan B, just let plan A run its course first.

I stride over to a bench, and sit down, letting out a long sigh.
"So you are Elijah, am I right? What do you- err... DID you do anyway? For like a profession."

I slide my hand into my jean pockets , and to my suppose there is something in there.
My lighter... This may be useful.
"Heheheee."

Elijah Ferguson

I nod "Yeah, thats me. I... didn't do much of anything. Was fresh out of highschool. Had a few summer jobs. Spent my spare time helping out at the local church."

I had finished folding the piece of paper and now a paper airplane rested in my hands. I flipped it over a few times before deeming myself satisfied with it, and sending it soaring with a flick of my wrist.

Tamela Hand

I pull out my lighter, keeping it concealed in my palm. Upon hearing Elijah's remark about church I couldn't help but laugh.
"Sure, and I was a girl scout! HAHAHAHHAHAAA!"
Once I get that out of my system, I compose myself.

"I bet you would like to know a little about me, huh? Well I believe this may shed some light on the matter."
I flick the lighter right as the paper airplane gets close, lighting it. I then grab and crumple the flaming paper.
Oh how I have missed the flames, how they kiss the skin. It has been so long.

Mortimer Pessoa

Still staring apathetically at the ceiling with one eye fixed on the door, I don't so much as glance at the sudden burst of flame, just rubbing my chin as I speak up.

"Fuckin' called it.  Totally insane.  But if you're going to be a pyromaniac the least you could do is light me up."

I pull a full pack of cigarettes from my pocket, placing one gently between my lips as I stare blankly at the marble.

Tamela Hand

"Sure thing sugar."
I flick my wrist and a flame jumps from my hand to the cigarette.
Oh how I have missed this... It's so freeing.

I almost forgot about the ashes, that paper burned quickly. Not enough for a proper pentagram...
I'll find a use for it eventually.

Elijah Ferguson

I groan as the cigarette is lit. "Don't you think this is bad enough without an eternity of having to smell like tobacco?" I sigh. At least Mortimer isn't being quite as rude as before. Maybe the cigarette will help mellow him out.

I take a second reobserve my surroundings. I turn Elijah.
"What do you suppose these walls are made of?"

Elijah Ferguson


"Hm?" I sit up a bit and glance at the wall. I look at it for a long moment before tapping it lightly. Solid. I shrug. "I don't think there's any getting through them, if that's what you're asking."

"..."
I look at the door.
"What about the door? Do you think it is wood?"

Elijah Ferguson

I stand up and shrug. "I could try kicking it down if that's what you want. But if you just want to see if it's wood..." I gesture toward Tamela's lighter. "That's more your area of expertise, isn't it?"

Tamela Hand

"Yeah, but I don't want to waste precious fuel if it's for naught..."

In fact to do that would betray the trust I worked so long to build...

I walk back to the button. I have lost my patience.
I press the button in, not releasing it.

Mortimer Pessoa

"We're not getting out of here you know.  Never.  So, you might as well sit down.  I can check my pockets for a deck of playing cards, but don't get your hopes up.  We're trapped in this marble prison for eternity."

I take a long drag on my cigarette.  Less than twenty left in the pack, and all of eternity to ration them out across.  Might as well savor this one while it lasts.

...
....
........
"How dare you!"
...
"You think I want out?
...
"I want farther in! I am here by choice!"

Mortimer Pessoa

"If you are in fact here by choice, my dear, than you can choose to leave.  Or 'get farther in.'  Whatever.  Point is, leave if you think you can. I know you can't."

I continue to stare blankly upward, having given up on the Valet, now just trying to talk some sense into these people with a dreadfully logical and monotone tone of voice.

I abandon the button and turn my attention to Mortimer.
"Where do you think we are? Hell."
I get closer.
"What did you expect? Brimstone? A lake of fire? If that's what you expected, I can give you fire!"
I flick my lighter, and engulf my arm in flames.
"How about it buddy? Want a taste of insanity?"

Elijah Ferguson

Having attempted to stay out of it until now, I jump infront of Tamela and shove her back. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong with you!?" I rip my top shirt off and use it to suffocate the flames on her arm. I then shove her down onto one of the benches, snatching the lighter away.

"Can you not act like a complete psychopath?!"