Closed to Strand.

[Alex was bored. She was bored bored bored. She'd already read all of the books that she'd had access too, it wasn't like there was netflix, and if it was her apartment there'd at least be her own bluray collection. Here the only movies were Black Tapes and those were forbidden as work. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Alex Reagan, intrepid reporter had resorted to picking lint of the blanket and counting it. Picking. Lint.

Sitting forward, Alex just looked at him in what she hoped was an imploring way.]

Okay. But I'm bored. Let's look at one tape. Please? I'm losing my mind Richard.

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