A typical evening in Bridget's brain
Sep. 21st, 2009 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gmtaslashWe've seen what happens in Trojie's half of the shared brain when she opens googledocs each day. Now let's take a look at what happens over in Bridget's side of the brain.
BRIDGET: *stares blearily at screen while drinking a pint and a half of tea*
TROJIE: I can has porn, pretty please?
BRIDGET: *muttergrumblemutter*
TROJIE: Pshaw. Lies, as well you know. Write me some pretty porn.
BRIDGET: *opens gdocs* *stares blankly*
EDMUND: Afternoon. Decided to see what's going on at last?
BRIDGET: *goes to make another bucket of tea*
CASPIAN: Typical. Buggers off for caffeine and leaves us in the hands of the Queen of Angst.
EDMUND: We are kings of Narnia, we shall bravely soldier through it.
CASPIAN: *gulps*
TROJIE: *cracks knuckles*
BRIDGET *wanders back* What did I miss?
LORNE: Don't ask me, I can't tell you.
BRIDGET: *suspicious face* Where's Trojie gone?
EDMUND: *suspicious moaning noises*
BRIDGET: Glod, get a room, why don't you?
EDMUND: We tried.
CASPIAN : Mmmph!
EDMUND: You were busy.
CASPIAN: Mmmm...
EDMUND: We moved on.
BRIDGET: But I thought you'd had enough of Angst.
EDMUND: Yes, but then Merlin and that bloody upstart thought they'd muscle in. We've territory to defend here, you know.
TROJIE: *writes at high speed*
BRIDGET: Uh, okay. So I can go drink more tea?
LORNE: Not until I've had a botanist in places the sun was never meant to shine.
BRIDGET: But I can't write you!
LORNE: You could try.
BRIDGET: I'll never do you justice.
LORNE: You've spent the last three days thinking of me naked. How could this go wrong?
PARRISH: *pops up unexpectedly* Actually, there are a lot of things that could go wrong. Sex pollen, for a start.
BRIDGET: I'm not writing clichés, I'm not! I won't do it and you can't make me!
LORNE: But you know you want to see it done properly. And I haven't gotten laid in ages.
BRIDGET: *yelps* Stop using Americanisms in my head!
KIRK: Damn, she's uptight, this one.
SPOCK: I concur. Perhaps we should have remained in our previous abode.
EVERYONE: *turns to look at Trojie*
TROJIE: *mutters under her breath and continues the stream of porn*
EDMUND: Shut up, shut up! Don't distract her now!
CASPIAN: Nnnngh!
BRIDGET: I need more caffeine. *wanders downstairs*
KIRK: It won't work, you know. We're watching you from the walls.
BRIDGET: Why did I ever spend precious beer money on a poster of you?
KIRK: Because you want my babies. Now, are you gonna write my clothes off, or what?
BRIDGET: Yes. I mean no! No.
SPOCK: Might I inquire as to why not?
BRIDGET: Because you have no Plot. You're just naked and sweaty and half choked.
SPOCK: *raises eyebrow*
KIRK: And this is a bad thing why, exactly?
BRIDGET: Because you can't make me write weirdly hot asphyxiation kink fic.
KIRK: I bet I could.
BRIDGET: Couldn't.
KIRK: Could.
TROJIE: *looking up from tangle of Narnian limbs* He probably could, you know. He's got you writing cock, after all.
BRIDGET: *twitch*
LORNE: I could have done that. I'm twenty first century American. If you'd just get your ass in gear and start writing me, we'll have more cock than you can shake a stick at.
KIRK: She doesn't need you for that. I already corrupted her brain.
SPOCK: Evidently. However, this bickering does not solve the issue at hand.
PARRISH: I'm a little confused. What is the issue?
HARKNESS: *wanders in* We're all wearing clothes and there's not enough cock on paper.
KIRK: Isn't paper a little archaic?
HARKNESS: Hey, get yourself an office boy like mine, then we can talk about stationery kinks.
BRIDGET: How the hell did you get in here?
HARKNESS: Uh, Tardis?
BRIDGET: Tell me Ten's not here. Please.
TROJIE: *wanders over* Why are you asking him to lie?
BRIDGET: Because it's crowded enough in here already.
HARKNESS: It'd be less crowded if there were less clothes.
KIRK: You know, I like the way you think.
BRIDGET: None of you should be thinking in here! This is my brain, not yours! *runs away for more tea*
TROJIE: *shaking head sadly* Honestly, I try my best, but she just won't listen.
LORNE: *earnestly* We try too, all the time, but it's like putting on a show for a rock. She just won't budge.
EDMUND: Er, excuse me? Not quite finished here.
MERLIN: Oi!
TROJIE: Oh, bugger.
MERLIN: Arthur! I found her!
TROJIE: *runs away*
MERLIN: *runs after her*
BRIDGET: *reappears with gallon of tea* Who was that?
KIRK: No one important. Now, where were we?
LORNE: She was just about to write me ravishing Parrish up against a tree.
EDMUND: Trees? That's boring. She's been there, done that. You'll never get her attention with trees.
KIRK: How about turbolifts?
SPOCK: I must regretfully remind you, captain, that she has had us engage in copulation in turbolifts more than once.
KIRK: Damn.
BRIDGET: And in your chair too, so don't go getting ideas. Bugger off, the pair of you, and come back when you've found a Plot.
KIRK: We could boldly go on a mission to the planet of Plots and bring one back for you?
BRIDGET: Excellent plan.
KIRK: And we could take these guys with us?
LORNE: I'm up for that. The PWP angle really isn't working, and if I don't get some soon...
PARRISH: Major, I'm sure Carson already explained to you about blue balls and exploding being a myth.
BECKETT: Did someone say my name?
MCKAY: *pops into existence* Mm, yeah, god yes, Sheppard, right - What the hell am I doing here?
BECKETT: Ah, Rodney. We're back in Bridget's brain, it seems.
MCKAY: Great, I finally get a break from having to molest Sheppard. So, who's up first?
BRIDGET: *hides*
HARKNESS: I'm good with just watching for now. Not sure where Ianto's got to.
CASPIAN: I'm about ready for another round, if anyone's up for it.
SPOCK: I have compiled a further set of variables I must test with the captain.
HARKNESS: *looks interested* Which one?
KIRK: This one! Hands off, buddy, the Vulcan's mine.
UHURA: *wanders in* Excuse me?
KIRK: Uh, I mean, he's, er... his own. Yeah. He's his, right Spock?
SPOCK: I am indeed my own character, captain. However, when in the confines of this brain I find myself consumed with an overwhelming urge to remove your clothing and perform certain licentious acts upon your anatomy.
LORNE: *settles back with popcorn* Oh, this should be good.
TROJIE: *runs back in, wheezing* Okay, I think I lost them. Has she written any porn yet?
PARRISH: I think she's hiding.
MCKAY: Coward! I left the best head in two galaxies for this?
BECKETT: Ahem!
MCKAY: I mean, I've got the best head in two galaxies and I'm reduced to this?
CAPTAIN JOHN: *waltzes through a gap in the brain-rift* I have the perfect solution.
HARKNESS: Oh no. Not a chance.
BRIDGET: With you on that. You lot are NOT having a crossover orgy in my brain. Not no way, not no how.
ARTHUR: You're no fun. Gawain told me you'd be fun. I think he lied.
BRIDGET: You shouldn't even be here! Get out!
ARTHUR and MERLIN: *exit, muttering*
BRIDGET: And nor should you, Uhura. Sorry, but no vaginas in this brain.
UHURA: Trojie's got one.
BRIDGET: Yeah, but she doesn't try to do anything with it in front of me. She can stay.
TROJIE: Does this mean you're going to write me some mansex now?
KIRK: I think you should listen to her, she has your best interests at heart.
BRIDGET: *tries and fails to drown self in tea*
TROJIE: *dons cheerleading outfit* Come on! You can do this.
BRIDGET: But there's too many of them. It's like the Pronoun Problem times infinity.
SPOCK: Perhaps if you were to direct us, you could simply then write down the actions we perform, and in this way create fiction with a satisfactory degree of mansex.
BRIDGET: Can't. Too many cocks. Someone's got to go.
KIRK: She said it again! Man, I OWN this brain.
BRIDGET: *whimper*
KIRK: Come on. *sits in captain's chair* You know you can't resist this.
BRIDGET: I'm not having sex with you in my brain. Especially not with an audience.
KIRK: ...What? Ew, no! I mean THIS. *grabs Spock, begins ravishing*
TROJIE: *appreciative noises*
EVERYONE ELSE: *settles in to enjoy the show*
EDMUND: I hope you're writing this down. Otherwise this is all just time wasted.
CASPIAN: Mansex time is never wasted time. Although it really should be us.
EDMUND: I see a convenient ship over there...
CASPIAN: *drags Edmund off and begins undressing him*
TROJIE: *even more appreciative noises*
BRIDGET: *hides*
TROJIE: Don't you dare, woman. It's all there in front of you. Just get the words down.
LORNE: Please?
BRIDGET: *sighs* There's no getting out of this, is there?
EVERYONE: None whatsoever.
BRIDGET: *opens seven new google documents*
TROJIE: That's it, excellent start, keep it up!
BRIDGET: *runs away and drowns herself in tea*
MCKAY: Pathetic. Come on, Carson. We've got work to do.
BECKETT and MCKAY: *exit, waving*
KIRK: Does this mean we have to stop?
TROJIE: Not on your nelly. You two are the main attraction. If she won't write you two, she won't write anything.
PARRISH: So we still don't get laid?
LORNE: Looks that way.
PARRISH: I must say, I'm not impressed by the service here.
LORNE: Me neither. It's, what, two years since we took up residence?
PARRISH: *mournfully* And still not a single paragraph of actual written porn.
LORNE: Yeah, but the training exercises have been pretty fun.
KIRK: You guys have to have training exercises?
SPOCK: *smug face*
PARRISH: *defensively* You two have been round for forty years. I was onscreen for two minutes. It takes time hone my character.
BRIDGET: Did someone say honing character? I like the sound of that.
KIRK: HORNY character. We said horny character. As in, you've got a lot of them on your hands.
BRIDGET: *looks around* Less than I did. Where did everyone go?
SPOCK: Their whereabouts is immaterial, so long as they are not here distracting you from the matter at hand.
KIRK: *waves hand at Spock's groin* Like this hand.
LORNE: *shoves hand down Parrish's trousers* Or this hand.
EDMUND: Or this - actually, no, this hand's busy.
EVERYONE: *turns to look*
TROJIE: *dribbles*
EDMUND: Carry on, everyone. Don't mind us.
BRIDGET: *takes deep healing breaths* Okay.
KIRK: Okay you'll write porn?
LORNE: Lots of porn?
TROJIE: Pretty angsty porn?
BRIDGET: ...Maybe.
SPOCK: I feel a 'but' is imminent.
KIRK: *sotto voce* So do I.
LORNE: *elbows him* Shhh! Don't put her off now she's getting psyched up!
BRIDGET: I will write porn on ONE condition.
TROJIE: Please don't tell me the condition includes Plot. We'll be here till doomsday.
BRIDGET: Best get comfy then. *waves airily* Feel free to make yourselves at ease, gentlemen.
EVERYONE: *does so*
TROJIE: But you're not writing.
BRIDGET: Nope.
TROJIE: You're surrounded by half naked pretty men. Why aren't you writing?
BRIDGET: Why aren't you?
TROJIE: Touché.
BRIDGET: This is a problem.
TROJIE: *indicates Kirk and Spock* When you said at ease, is this what you meant?
BRIDGET: *stares* Not ... exactly.
TROJIE: Well, what did you mean?
BRIDGET: *continues staring*
KIRK: *moans*
SPOCK: *fellates*
LORNE, PARRISH and HARKNESS: *eat popcorn and watch in merciful silence*
TROJIE: Hello?
SPOCK: *contorts*
KIRK: *pants*
TROJIE: Bridget? Are you still here?
BRIDGET: ... Hmmm?
KIRK: *whispers* I think it's working!
SPOCK: If we continue in this vein I predict you will climax in under four minutes, captain. I would therefore have to concur.
KIRK: I love it when you talk clinically and logically to me, baby.
TROJIE: *fans self*
BRIDGET: *types a sentence and a half*
KIRK: Oh God, yes!
TROJIE: Did he just...?
SPOCK: He is merely triumphant that we have finally managed to inspire Bridget to put in a hard day's work.
LORNE: *chokes on popcorn* A sentence and a half is a whole day's work?
KIRK: With a brain that can't say cock? What do you think? Oh yeah, right there.
BRIDGET: Tag. I need more tea.
BRIDGET'S BLADDER: *groans and protests under the weight of fifteen pints of liquid*
TROJIE: *mesmerised* Sure thing. *writes*
BRIDGET: *runs away*
BRIDGET: *stares blearily at screen while drinking a pint and a half of tea*
TROJIE: I can has porn, pretty please?
BRIDGET: *muttergrumblemutter*
TROJIE: Pshaw. Lies, as well you know. Write me some pretty porn.
BRIDGET: *opens gdocs* *stares blankly*
EDMUND: Afternoon. Decided to see what's going on at last?
BRIDGET: *goes to make another bucket of tea*
CASPIAN: Typical. Buggers off for caffeine and leaves us in the hands of the Queen of Angst.
EDMUND: We are kings of Narnia, we shall bravely soldier through it.
CASPIAN: *gulps*
TROJIE: *cracks knuckles*
BRIDGET *wanders back* What did I miss?
LORNE: Don't ask me, I can't tell you.
BRIDGET: *suspicious face* Where's Trojie gone?
EDMUND: *suspicious moaning noises*
BRIDGET: Glod, get a room, why don't you?
EDMUND: We tried.
CASPIAN : Mmmph!
EDMUND: You were busy.
CASPIAN: Mmmm...
EDMUND: We moved on.
BRIDGET: But I thought you'd had enough of Angst.
EDMUND: Yes, but then Merlin and that bloody upstart thought they'd muscle in. We've territory to defend here, you know.
TROJIE: *writes at high speed*
BRIDGET: Uh, okay. So I can go drink more tea?
LORNE: Not until I've had a botanist in places the sun was never meant to shine.
BRIDGET: But I can't write you!
LORNE: You could try.
BRIDGET: I'll never do you justice.
LORNE: You've spent the last three days thinking of me naked. How could this go wrong?
PARRISH: *pops up unexpectedly* Actually, there are a lot of things that could go wrong. Sex pollen, for a start.
BRIDGET: I'm not writing clichés, I'm not! I won't do it and you can't make me!
LORNE: But you know you want to see it done properly. And I haven't gotten laid in ages.
BRIDGET: *yelps* Stop using Americanisms in my head!
KIRK: Damn, she's uptight, this one.
SPOCK: I concur. Perhaps we should have remained in our previous abode.
EVERYONE: *turns to look at Trojie*
TROJIE: *mutters under her breath and continues the stream of porn*
EDMUND: Shut up, shut up! Don't distract her now!
CASPIAN: Nnnngh!
BRIDGET: I need more caffeine. *wanders downstairs*
KIRK: It won't work, you know. We're watching you from the walls.
BRIDGET: Why did I ever spend precious beer money on a poster of you?
KIRK: Because you want my babies. Now, are you gonna write my clothes off, or what?
BRIDGET: Yes. I mean no! No.
SPOCK: Might I inquire as to why not?
BRIDGET: Because you have no Plot. You're just naked and sweaty and half choked.
SPOCK: *raises eyebrow*
KIRK: And this is a bad thing why, exactly?
BRIDGET: Because you can't make me write weirdly hot asphyxiation kink fic.
KIRK: I bet I could.
BRIDGET: Couldn't.
KIRK: Could.
TROJIE: *looking up from tangle of Narnian limbs* He probably could, you know. He's got you writing cock, after all.
BRIDGET: *twitch*
LORNE: I could have done that. I'm twenty first century American. If you'd just get your ass in gear and start writing me, we'll have more cock than you can shake a stick at.
KIRK: She doesn't need you for that. I already corrupted her brain.
SPOCK: Evidently. However, this bickering does not solve the issue at hand.
PARRISH: I'm a little confused. What is the issue?
HARKNESS: *wanders in* We're all wearing clothes and there's not enough cock on paper.
KIRK: Isn't paper a little archaic?
HARKNESS: Hey, get yourself an office boy like mine, then we can talk about stationery kinks.
BRIDGET: How the hell did you get in here?
HARKNESS: Uh, Tardis?
BRIDGET: Tell me Ten's not here. Please.
TROJIE: *wanders over* Why are you asking him to lie?
BRIDGET: Because it's crowded enough in here already.
HARKNESS: It'd be less crowded if there were less clothes.
KIRK: You know, I like the way you think.
BRIDGET: None of you should be thinking in here! This is my brain, not yours! *runs away for more tea*
TROJIE: *shaking head sadly* Honestly, I try my best, but she just won't listen.
LORNE: *earnestly* We try too, all the time, but it's like putting on a show for a rock. She just won't budge.
EDMUND: Er, excuse me? Not quite finished here.
MERLIN: Oi!
TROJIE: Oh, bugger.
MERLIN: Arthur! I found her!
TROJIE: *runs away*
MERLIN: *runs after her*
BRIDGET: *reappears with gallon of tea* Who was that?
KIRK: No one important. Now, where were we?
LORNE: She was just about to write me ravishing Parrish up against a tree.
EDMUND: Trees? That's boring. She's been there, done that. You'll never get her attention with trees.
KIRK: How about turbolifts?
SPOCK: I must regretfully remind you, captain, that she has had us engage in copulation in turbolifts more than once.
KIRK: Damn.
BRIDGET: And in your chair too, so don't go getting ideas. Bugger off, the pair of you, and come back when you've found a Plot.
KIRK: We could boldly go on a mission to the planet of Plots and bring one back for you?
BRIDGET: Excellent plan.
KIRK: And we could take these guys with us?
LORNE: I'm up for that. The PWP angle really isn't working, and if I don't get some soon...
PARRISH: Major, I'm sure Carson already explained to you about blue balls and exploding being a myth.
BECKETT: Did someone say my name?
MCKAY: *pops into existence* Mm, yeah, god yes, Sheppard, right - What the hell am I doing here?
BECKETT: Ah, Rodney. We're back in Bridget's brain, it seems.
MCKAY: Great, I finally get a break from having to molest Sheppard. So, who's up first?
BRIDGET: *hides*
HARKNESS: I'm good with just watching for now. Not sure where Ianto's got to.
CASPIAN: I'm about ready for another round, if anyone's up for it.
SPOCK: I have compiled a further set of variables I must test with the captain.
HARKNESS: *looks interested* Which one?
KIRK: This one! Hands off, buddy, the Vulcan's mine.
UHURA: *wanders in* Excuse me?
KIRK: Uh, I mean, he's, er... his own. Yeah. He's his, right Spock?
SPOCK: I am indeed my own character, captain. However, when in the confines of this brain I find myself consumed with an overwhelming urge to remove your clothing and perform certain licentious acts upon your anatomy.
LORNE: *settles back with popcorn* Oh, this should be good.
TROJIE: *runs back in, wheezing* Okay, I think I lost them. Has she written any porn yet?
PARRISH: I think she's hiding.
MCKAY: Coward! I left the best head in two galaxies for this?
BECKETT: Ahem!
MCKAY: I mean, I've got the best head in two galaxies and I'm reduced to this?
CAPTAIN JOHN: *waltzes through a gap in the brain-rift* I have the perfect solution.
HARKNESS: Oh no. Not a chance.
BRIDGET: With you on that. You lot are NOT having a crossover orgy in my brain. Not no way, not no how.
ARTHUR: You're no fun. Gawain told me you'd be fun. I think he lied.
BRIDGET: You shouldn't even be here! Get out!
ARTHUR and MERLIN: *exit, muttering*
BRIDGET: And nor should you, Uhura. Sorry, but no vaginas in this brain.
UHURA: Trojie's got one.
BRIDGET: Yeah, but she doesn't try to do anything with it in front of me. She can stay.
TROJIE: Does this mean you're going to write me some mansex now?
KIRK: I think you should listen to her, she has your best interests at heart.
BRIDGET: *tries and fails to drown self in tea*
TROJIE: *dons cheerleading outfit* Come on! You can do this.
BRIDGET: But there's too many of them. It's like the Pronoun Problem times infinity.
SPOCK: Perhaps if you were to direct us, you could simply then write down the actions we perform, and in this way create fiction with a satisfactory degree of mansex.
BRIDGET: Can't. Too many cocks. Someone's got to go.
KIRK: She said it again! Man, I OWN this brain.
BRIDGET: *whimper*
KIRK: Come on. *sits in captain's chair* You know you can't resist this.
BRIDGET: I'm not having sex with you in my brain. Especially not with an audience.
KIRK: ...What? Ew, no! I mean THIS. *grabs Spock, begins ravishing*
TROJIE: *appreciative noises*
EVERYONE ELSE: *settles in to enjoy the show*
EDMUND: I hope you're writing this down. Otherwise this is all just time wasted.
CASPIAN: Mansex time is never wasted time. Although it really should be us.
EDMUND: I see a convenient ship over there...
CASPIAN: *drags Edmund off and begins undressing him*
TROJIE: *even more appreciative noises*
BRIDGET: *hides*
TROJIE: Don't you dare, woman. It's all there in front of you. Just get the words down.
LORNE: Please?
BRIDGET: *sighs* There's no getting out of this, is there?
EVERYONE: None whatsoever.
BRIDGET: *opens seven new google documents*
TROJIE: That's it, excellent start, keep it up!
BRIDGET: *runs away and drowns herself in tea*
MCKAY: Pathetic. Come on, Carson. We've got work to do.
BECKETT and MCKAY: *exit, waving*
KIRK: Does this mean we have to stop?
TROJIE: Not on your nelly. You two are the main attraction. If she won't write you two, she won't write anything.
PARRISH: So we still don't get laid?
LORNE: Looks that way.
PARRISH: I must say, I'm not impressed by the service here.
LORNE: Me neither. It's, what, two years since we took up residence?
PARRISH: *mournfully* And still not a single paragraph of actual written porn.
LORNE: Yeah, but the training exercises have been pretty fun.
KIRK: You guys have to have training exercises?
SPOCK: *smug face*
PARRISH: *defensively* You two have been round for forty years. I was onscreen for two minutes. It takes time hone my character.
BRIDGET: Did someone say honing character? I like the sound of that.
KIRK: HORNY character. We said horny character. As in, you've got a lot of them on your hands.
BRIDGET: *looks around* Less than I did. Where did everyone go?
SPOCK: Their whereabouts is immaterial, so long as they are not here distracting you from the matter at hand.
KIRK: *waves hand at Spock's groin* Like this hand.
LORNE: *shoves hand down Parrish's trousers* Or this hand.
EDMUND: Or this - actually, no, this hand's busy.
EVERYONE: *turns to look*
TROJIE: *dribbles*
EDMUND: Carry on, everyone. Don't mind us.
BRIDGET: *takes deep healing breaths* Okay.
KIRK: Okay you'll write porn?
LORNE: Lots of porn?
TROJIE: Pretty angsty porn?
BRIDGET: ...Maybe.
SPOCK: I feel a 'but' is imminent.
KIRK: *sotto voce* So do I.
LORNE: *elbows him* Shhh! Don't put her off now she's getting psyched up!
BRIDGET: I will write porn on ONE condition.
TROJIE: Please don't tell me the condition includes Plot. We'll be here till doomsday.
BRIDGET: Best get comfy then. *waves airily* Feel free to make yourselves at ease, gentlemen.
EVERYONE: *does so*
TROJIE: But you're not writing.
BRIDGET: Nope.
TROJIE: You're surrounded by half naked pretty men. Why aren't you writing?
BRIDGET: Why aren't you?
TROJIE: Touché.
BRIDGET: This is a problem.
TROJIE: *indicates Kirk and Spock* When you said at ease, is this what you meant?
BRIDGET: *stares* Not ... exactly.
TROJIE: Well, what did you mean?
BRIDGET: *continues staring*
KIRK: *moans*
SPOCK: *fellates*
LORNE, PARRISH and HARKNESS: *eat popcorn and watch in merciful silence*
TROJIE: Hello?
SPOCK: *contorts*
KIRK: *pants*
TROJIE: Bridget? Are you still here?
BRIDGET: ... Hmmm?
KIRK: *whispers* I think it's working!
SPOCK: If we continue in this vein I predict you will climax in under four minutes, captain. I would therefore have to concur.
KIRK: I love it when you talk clinically and logically to me, baby.
TROJIE: *fans self*
BRIDGET: *types a sentence and a half*
KIRK: Oh God, yes!
TROJIE: Did he just...?
SPOCK: He is merely triumphant that we have finally managed to inspire Bridget to put in a hard day's work.
LORNE: *chokes on popcorn* A sentence and a half is a whole day's work?
KIRK: With a brain that can't say cock? What do you think? Oh yeah, right there.
BRIDGET: Tag. I need more tea.
BRIDGET'S BLADDER: *groans and protests under the weight of fifteen pints of liquid*
TROJIE: *mesmerised* Sure thing. *writes*
BRIDGET: *runs away*
