Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player--

"Of course! Of-bloody-course!"

Jonothon was... well, to say he was angry was probably a severe understatement. He was outside, yelling at... mostly at the simulation flamingos that had camped out on Hannibal's perfectly manicured simulation lawn. There was a simulation of Joni in his pocket, which was normal except for the 'simulation' part, and he was letting off steam by kicking that simulation tree a few times before jogging a lap of the lawn and starting the process all over.

Because of course none of this was real. Of course his face wasn't real, of course this world wasn't real and they were all trapped in some manner of bloody mindfuck by some sort of pretentious nit for god bloody only knew what reasons, and there was probably a saner, calmer way to get the hell out of this mess, but the danger they were in wasn't immediate so much as infuriating thus far, and Jono was not a big fan of mindfucks or having his body altered against his will as he slept at night, and he'd wind down and start being functional sooner or later, but right now...?

Right now, he was going to do another circuit of the lawn, where he'd been pacing a trench since Zinyak's announcement that morning, and he was going to kick that tree one more time for good measure. He didn't like the way it had been looking at him. And kicking a rickshaw driver dressed as a hot dog hardly seemed sporting.

...Then again, it probably would have been satisfying, at least.

In his pocket, simulation-Joni mostly just peered out curiously and meowed from time to time.

[OOC: Open! Grumpy Jono is grumpy.]