Room 227 [Friday Evening]

Bridge is... sulking. In his own Bridge-like way, which means he's pulled all the various spare parts and half-assembled, abandoned projects from his shelves and is disassembling everything down to their most basic components before sorting them in to piles scattered all across the floor of the room.

It's a good thing Anders isn't around, as the carpet is barely visible underneath all of the bits and pieces, so he'd have a hell of a time navigating his way through the room. RIC is perched on the aforementioned absent roomie's bed, watching Bridge.

"What?" Bridge says, well, sulkily. Due to the sulking. "I suppose you're going to tell me you hate it here too, aren't you? Hell, you probably hate *me* for being the one to bring you here." He probably hates me too. After all, if I hadn't been sent here to start with, he wouldn't be here either.

RIC... doesn't actually dignify that with an answer.

"Fine. Be stubborn, then," he sighs, and goes back to taking apart a portable CD player.

[ooc: eeeeestablishy.]