TT: Where you at, man.
TT: Which computer are you using?
TT: I'm not comfortable knowing my words could be hovering over Cage's clownish, sort of gaunt face.
TT: Could you maybe switch back to naked blue chicks as your exclusive desktop fodder? TIA.
TT: But yeah.
TT: I don't know if you just want a little solitude.
TT: Or if maybe you finally just got like,
TT: A case of Strider fatigue.
TT: I could understand that.
TT: I mean, not to get all neurotic on you.
TT: I'm just saying I get it, if that's what's going on.
TT: But for real, if you gotta sneak away for a few days, that's cool.
TT: Just might be kind of dope if you at least would let me know which planet you scurried off to.
TT: And by dope I guess I mean considerate?
TT: Really not trying to be a drag here.
TT: Wondering what's up is all.
TT: Want to meet up soon?
TT: I found a really promising tomb we could raid.
TT: Looks like it runs hella deep.
TT: If I've got the specs right, could run as deep as the Lion's Mouth itself.
TT: But without all the fuckin' fire to deal with.
TT: Wait, I mean Lion's Mouth.
TT: Gotta underline that key shit. Always forget.
TT: Figure it should take a couple days to make it to the bottom.
TT: Only a day if we both go limp and just fall the whole way down the stairs.
TT: Ignoring literally every sage warning we've ever received about those treacherous plummetation zigzags.
TT: Just tumbling on down in a floppy limbed trance like a couple of puppets in a race arranged by some drunk gamblers.
TT: If you're into another expedition, head to LOTAK and hit me up. Just don't forget your mask this time.
TT: The deeper we go, the worse it gets, remember?
TT: Could be some unreal grist down there.
TT: More puzzle shit.
TT: Loads of skeletons.
TT: Pack your guns dog.