Siiiingin' in the rain. ♪ Just singin' in the rain... ♪
[What a... less than glorious feeling, Sigmund thinks, shivering a little in his sopping-wet polo shirt. But the singing is a decent distraction, which is obviously the only reason he's still doing it. Man, if he'd known he'd end up in Pesgare today, he would have brought a coat. Then again, if he'd known he might end up in Pesgare today, maybe he wouldn't have taken the circuitous wrong turns that led him here.
Thank god he'd stumbled on a local who knew enough English to explain the best route around all the stupid-ass construction outside. Now all he has to do is, er... remember where he parked. Were the streets this windy whenever he last came out this way? Windy in both senses of the word. Brr.
Still, sooner or later, the paths have to start looking familiar again. Until then, onward stomps this grey-haired man in unseasonal short sleeves, through the puddles and their curiously-curving spray, towards the next person fool enough to hang around in this weather.]
Hey! You seen a car anywhere near here? ♪ It's blue, daba dee, daba dah. ♪
[...At least his voice isn't awful. Off-key, but not completely awful.]
[IV]
[The field of pinchology may be too young and untested to teach in college, but there's a lot to analyse if one cares about it as much as respected researcher Dr. Sigmund Klim. For example, the layperson might imagine that the butt is the ideal solution to any pinching problem. This is not always wrong, but fails to account for the tenfold multiplier it applies to the level of pinch retribution under many of the most common constraints. To simultaneously maximise plausible deniability and quality of vantage point, a good approximation is to start with the thigh, or in some circumstances elsewhere on the leg... and so on.
The upshot is that it's perfectly rational for Sigmund and his beer to be hiding under the counter at this bar, thoughtfully weighing up the suitability of each pair of legs that passes by. Why are you glancing down this way at all? Look, he only has two coins left before he can get a prize. Please don't begrudge him this.]
[Bonus]
Okay, who is it this time? Government? Hacker cabal? Big Pharma? 😩 Tell me I can at least still check my email. None of you guys wanna sift through *that*, right?
Sigma (Sigmund Klim) | Zero Escape
[II, Pesgare]
Siiiingin' in the rain. ♪ Just singin' in the rain... ♪
[What a... less than glorious feeling, Sigmund thinks, shivering a little in his sopping-wet polo shirt. But the singing is a decent distraction, which is obviously the only reason he's still doing it. Man, if he'd known he'd end up in Pesgare today, he would have brought a coat. Then again, if he'd known he might end up in Pesgare today, maybe he wouldn't have taken the circuitous wrong turns that led him here.
Thank god he'd stumbled on a local who knew enough English to explain the best route around all the stupid-ass construction outside. Now all he has to do is, er... remember where he parked. Were the streets this windy whenever he last came out this way? Windy in both senses of the word. Brr.
Still, sooner or later, the paths have to start looking familiar again. Until then, onward stomps this grey-haired man in unseasonal short sleeves, through the puddles and their curiously-curving spray, towards the next person fool enough to hang around in this weather.]
Hey! You seen a car anywhere near here? ♪ It's blue, daba dee, daba dah. ♪
[...At least his voice isn't awful. Off-key, but not completely awful.]
[IV]
[The field of pinchology may be too young and untested to teach in college, but there's a lot to analyse if one cares about it as much as respected researcher Dr. Sigmund Klim. For example, the layperson might imagine that the butt is the ideal solution to any pinching problem. This is not always wrong, but fails to account for the tenfold multiplier it applies to the level of pinch retribution under many of the most common constraints. To simultaneously maximise plausible deniability and quality of vantage point, a good approximation is to start with the thigh, or in some circumstances elsewhere on the leg... and so on.
The upshot is that it's perfectly rational for Sigmund and his beer to be hiding under the counter at this bar, thoughtfully weighing up the suitability of each pair of legs that passes by. Why are you glancing down this way at all? Look, he only has two coins left before he can get a prize. Please don't begrudge him this.]
[Bonus]
Okay, who is it this time? Government? Hacker cabal? Big Pharma? 😩
Tell me I can at least still check my email. None of you guys wanna sift through *that*, right?