we could play 7 minutes in heaven [arlo/tavi]

Nothing happens and Arlo makes sure that every camera in this place knows that he was expecting to die- eyes squeezed shut, hands over his head, body twisted and dramatically curled around itself like some weird, jaggedly boney snake. He counts all his fingers- "Well, well, well." -and wiggles all his toes. "Guess that means I'm touching it all then!" But Arlo was met with only the comforting whisper of this sort of boiler room?

Arlo shook his head at himself. There was probably a shiny, very obvious plaque bolted onto the door that he didn't read on the way in, right?

He'd been too busy with- shit. Well, that's- annoying. Not embarrassing at all, nope, only annoying and that's absolutely it. Nothing else. Just an annoying distraction in which Arlo's eyes were not looking at where he was going. Yep.

What was Tavi doing anyway?

"Okay what about- this stuff?" He glanced around, jumping excitedly and tapping everything he could reach. "Still no crispy little piggies? Or- well, bacon bits, sort of? That should be a poll for sure, someone should write that down, ask the hard questions, get those controversial answers."

"Less keys," Arlo mumbled, twirling this key between his fingers as he read the shimmery font. "More food. Ugh, is it breakfast time yet- oh wait! I-" Arlo presses his nose to his new watch. "Can check for myself thanks to that wonderful doo-wacky over there."

It was finally starting to roll into a more reasonable hour. Though if Arlo was being honest- he was beyond exhausted. He could feel it in his bones, in the way the bruise on his cheek was starting to truly swell to- well, too big. Y'know, doing a thing that cheeks aren't supposed to do.

"Alright, so- am I gonna find another key in here? Quick poll, place your bets, get rich!"  Arlo watched as the turrets in the ceiling re-angled themselves to glare at him. How quickly would he die getting shot at by something that high-tech? "Alright, alright, I'm getting on with it. But- hey, listen!" He paused with a finger pointed and a hand on his hip. "That door gets it next."

It probably takes him too long to notice, but the footage on screen didn't match the reality of today. It was all tapes from the past- some of it seemingly as old as the 54th.  If memory served correctly. Which- was admittedly unlikely because Arlo had very vivid memories of napping during his history lectures. Made him the King of Detention though. Well- not really, but he may as well have been. Plus he knew the principal didn't like when he said that, so there was a lovely little heart dotting the 'i' in 'King' whenever he turned in a form.

"Oh, come on," he mumbled fumbling around with random controls until something different happened on the screens. Surely there was something among all the settings- or buttons or-"I mean, are they voice activated?" Arlo cleared his throat and spoke clearly. "Hey, lovely AI systems of this surveillance room, show me tribute Arlo Monroe, please. Arlo Monroe, thank you."

"Nope, nope. This is a key, not an Arlo Monroe, you hilarious piece of tehcnology."