[The obvious thing to do when trapped in one of these endless building impossible interior geometry pocket dimension dealies is to attempt to wait it out. Surprisingly transient, dimensions, and occasionally just the result of Dirk's having eaten too much ice cream too close to bedtime. He's not arguing that's what this is, but it certainly could be, and in the absence of any of his tempering impulses, the broad strokes of his investigative procedure thus far have involved a lot of sitting around and surrendering to abject hopelessness.
Er, waiting. Waiting to see if the bubble pops.
It's not like he's been ignoring his impulses. As best he can tell, if the Universe has any meaningful influence in this place at all, it's telling to spend absolutely all his time sitting in this room waiting for something interesting to happen. He defies it for bathroom breaks and showers and because he's indescribably bored, but always and forever, he winds up back here.
And then, miraculously, something interesting does happen.
And it's a Big. Red. Button.
And he's being asked about it.
Existential despair eat your heart out, this? Is great.]
Oh! Well.
[He pushes his chair out with a loud scrape and wanders over, leaning forward with brows furrowed to examine the... thingy. No two ways about it, that is a thingy. Unequivocally.]
See, now, generally, in my experience, people find themselves confronted with one of these button thingies, very often big, almost always red, and they assume -- rightly or wrongly -- that if you press it it's going to do something sinister and awful like kill you or blow the building up and kill all of us or set off some kind of... button alarm that sets some manner of heavily-armed paramilitary anti-button-pressing team honing in on your position to take you to jail.
[He says all of this quite seriously and sympathetically, gesticulating and glancing between the button and Jack as he rambles.]
Personally, and I am always telling people this, I think it could be anything. Maybe it'll fill this room with hamsters. Maybe it's the button you press when you want to have a great day. Oh! Maybe this is the get out of here button and if you press it we'll all get to go home!
[The only reason he doesn't reach out to slam that sucker right now is there's a Todd in his head telling him not to. Shaking his head, doing absolutely fucking not eyes. With the brows, and all.]
It is a bit cliché though, isn't it?
[There's open disapproval and distaste in his voice, like the biggest fault here is a bad fashion choice and not the fact that this is a Big Red Button, with all the threat implicit in that.]
Big Red Button
Er, waiting. Waiting to see if the bubble pops.
It's not like he's been ignoring his impulses. As best he can tell, if the Universe has any meaningful influence in this place at all, it's telling to spend absolutely all his time sitting in this room waiting for something interesting to happen. He defies it for bathroom breaks and showers and because he's indescribably bored, but always and forever, he winds up back here.
And then, miraculously, something interesting does happen.
And it's a Big. Red. Button.
And he's being asked about it.
Existential despair eat your heart out, this? Is great.]
Oh! Well.
[He pushes his chair out with a loud scrape and wanders over, leaning forward with brows furrowed to examine the... thingy. No two ways about it, that is a thingy. Unequivocally.]
See, now, generally, in my experience, people find themselves confronted with one of these button thingies, very often big, almost always red, and they assume -- rightly or wrongly -- that if you press it it's going to do something sinister and awful like kill you or blow the building up and kill all of us or set off some kind of... button alarm that sets some manner of heavily-armed paramilitary anti-button-pressing team honing in on your position to take you to jail.
[He says all of this quite seriously and sympathetically, gesticulating and glancing between the button and Jack as he rambles.]
Personally, and I am always telling people this, I think it could be anything. Maybe it'll fill this room with hamsters. Maybe it's the button you press when you want to have a great day. Oh! Maybe this is the get out of here button and if you press it we'll all get to go home!
[The only reason he doesn't reach out to slam that sucker right now is there's a Todd in his head telling him not to. Shaking his head, doing absolutely fucking not eyes. With the brows, and all.]
It is a bit cliché though, isn't it?
[There's open disapproval and distaste in his voice, like the biggest fault here is a bad fashion choice and not the fact that this is a Big Red Button, with all the threat implicit in that.]