This entire place is a mess but you know what, since apparently that guy with the other Billy's face isn't screwing around, there's not too much point in balking about it and entirely too much point in figuring out what's going to be useful around here and what is not.
The storage cabinet seems like as good a place as any to start, if for no better reason than somebody should probably figure out exactly how long this stuff is going to last in an emergency and while he'd prefer to leave that to somebody else, he'd also prefer to not die due to something idiotic. So, inventory it is, albeit an informal one that's mostly a mental tally of what's most likely to be messed with in some sort of heroically stupid way or another.
...Yeah, this goes about as well as one would expect given that he's from 1924. Duct tape is...new but more or less self-explanatory upon closer inspection, in the form of ripping off a length of it just to see how good it is at its job (very good, actually); the batteries aren't exactly foreign but they're decidedly smaller and don't appear to be zinc-carbon, so that's a thing that's happening and he'll kind of turn over a packet of the little ones before setting them aside to take with and figure out where exactly they're supposed to go; the WD-40 is...]
And what are you supposed to be.
[That is the flattest thing in the world, uttered while he's turning a can of it over in his hands to try to find some sort of instructions because he's not a damn idiot but what the hell are these and why are they here.
...It's going to be a long stay.
Otherwise, he can be found in the kitchen, trying to find something that he trusts to not kill him (something easy and nonperishable, really, those are probably least likely to be tampered with? who the hell knows, though, with a lot of the things in here) and otherwise sifting through the clothes in the costume room - thankfully the things in here aren't all gaudy messes; a lot of it actually looks weirdly presentable, as far as he's concerned, though that's likely a product of the times than anything. Sizing is an adventure but self-explanatory enough; none of this is going to be properly tailored and that's going to be annoying – and, indeed, he is at least slightly irritated before he glances over to the sewing machines, at which point something seems to click.]
Well, here's hoping somebody's acceptable with those.
no subject
This entire place is a mess but you know what, since apparently that guy with the other Billy's face isn't screwing around, there's not too much point in balking about it and entirely too much point in figuring out what's going to be useful around here and what is not.
The storage cabinet seems like as good a place as any to start, if for no better reason than somebody should probably figure out exactly how long this stuff is going to last in an emergency and while he'd prefer to leave that to somebody else, he'd also prefer to not die due to something idiotic. So, inventory it is, albeit an informal one that's mostly a mental tally of what's most likely to be messed with in some sort of heroically stupid way or another.
...Yeah, this goes about as well as one would expect given that he's from 1924. Duct tape is...new but more or less self-explanatory upon closer inspection, in the form of ripping off a length of it just to see how good it is at its job (very good, actually); the batteries aren't exactly foreign but they're decidedly smaller and don't appear to be zinc-carbon, so that's a thing that's happening and he'll kind of turn over a packet of the little ones before setting them aside to take with and figure out where exactly they're supposed to go; the WD-40 is...]
And what are you supposed to be.
[That is the flattest thing in the world, uttered while he's turning a can of it over in his hands to try to find some sort of instructions because he's not a damn idiot but what the hell are these and why are they here.
...It's going to be a long stay.
Otherwise, he can be found in the kitchen, trying to find something that he trusts to not kill him (something easy and nonperishable, really, those are probably least likely to be tampered with? who the hell knows, though, with a lot of the things in here) and otherwise sifting through the clothes in the costume room - thankfully the things in here aren't all gaudy messes; a lot of it actually looks weirdly presentable, as far as he's concerned, though that's likely a product of the times than anything. Sizing is an adventure but self-explanatory enough; none of this is going to be properly tailored and that's going to be annoying – and, indeed, he is at least slightly irritated before he glances over to the sewing machines, at which point something seems to click.]
Well, here's hoping somebody's acceptable with those.