#mortisnothere

YOU AND THAT CHEMIST PERSON ARE SIBLINGS???????

He was happily talking about how he planned to be quite reckless on it’s blog. An accident is all but guaranteed. Especially when he’s a chronically sleep deprived risk seeker.

If you’d like I could refer you to some good laboratory janitors who treat hazardous waste with the cautious respect it deserves.

@mortisnothere Get a load of this... I have worked with you before and I know you are an excellent dangerous mess janitor. Despite the few occasions you would blow a gasket and wreck the lab equipment.

@detective-fez

(Previous) Fez stumbled back. He stared at her, rabid and adrift. He reached for his tie but settled on keeping his hands to himself. He scrunched his eye and turned his head away from her. “I know! I know— um, that— it happened sort of throughout the entire…” He gasped for air, sweating. “Ordeal! I wasn’t gonna try anything, honest. He was just acting suspiciously— You should’ve seen what he looked like while he was telling me Sam had died!” He grasped at straws, distraught.

Inspector Heath gave Fez a long, deadpan stare. Afterwards she let go of him, swore under her breath, and flatly said,“Look, I gave you a chance. You blew it. I let you justify yourself with good, hard evidence. Even offered to give you a peek at his records to sweeten the pot. You didn’t.”

“All you did was...” Heath twirled her wrist as she struggled to find the words. “I dunno, tell me about how he has bad vibes or whatever?” She air quoted that pinch of slang with an eye roll.

The Fist of Hate Project has been officially shut down due to lack of interest, quality, and funness. All data will be wiped from the servers as soon as Peepers is done eating dinner.

Unless you are on the team. Then it is due to Mortimer, specifically. Take your anger out on it because it's all his fault you lost your job. Go bug whoever's in charge of all the games to beg to work on something else. Or starve or whatever I dunno. Don’t care either.

(Previous) GO FLARG YOURSELF!

His constant overthinking made him a victim of needing others to comfort him instead of his own self soothing. He furrowed his lid, thinking. If this is why Sally always had to put out fires for him, then he felt like he was down in the ditch of his problems that other people had to drag him out of.

Still, he stayed hopelessly gallivanting. Needing someone to be there for him.

Hi Bert.

Mort soon arrived in the M room 1612, eye bags heavy as ever as it glanced around in search for inspector heath

The entrance of sector M room 1612 looked like a drab waiting room, complete with a sign pointing at a device saying, "take a number." Although that wouldn't be necessary when the room was completely empty.

Inspector Heath was working at the reception desk when she saw Mort from the edge of her vision and perked up. Then she walked over to let it into the back.