[open and closed prompts]

[end_recording]

WHO: Jonathan Sims, Ojiro Sniper, Soldier: 76, Roxas, anyone else
WHERE: safehouse, fighting rings
WHEN: various late November/December
WHAT: OPEN prompt for Jonathan
NOTES OR WARNINGS: violence, some mild horror imagery with eyes and worms

((Contact praecipitanter if you are interested in a starter!))

Comments

[personalwar]

The question about whether or not he was a public figure gives Jack pause, but only for a moment. He does have an answer to this, and it has nothing to do with how well-known he may or may not have been, back home.

"It seemed like the Natha had some amount of telepathic ability." He still remembers the nametags they'd been given, back when they'd first landed on El Nysa. They'd been stapled to their shirts and couldn't be removed no matter what they did -- which was unfortunate, given that they put personal details about them on display.

"I'm guessing they had a way of getting insight into each of us, so that they could decide who to grab."

He's got a sour look on his face as he shrugs. He was never a fan of the Natha and he never will be.

[deicider]

Sniper, unerring ad their name, is hard to shake. They are interested in the details of selection, but they're interested in Jack, too. They're good at multitasking. "So Natha had every choice in the world and he chose Jack Miller. Why?"

[personalwar]

There's a moment of pause, not just at the forward question, but at the last name. Not the correct one, but the fake one he'd picked here as a means to protect himself. There is some comfort in knowing that he's at least got that to keep close to his chest.

"Guess because I'm a soldier," he says with a shrug, an attempt to be casual. "And if I've survived this long, it must mean I'm not half bad at it."