Handcuffed in an Elevator of Forced Honesty

[theuserabides]

Choosing is hard, so instead, you're getting three memes for the price of one:

HANDCUFFED IN AN ELEVATOR OF FORCED HONESTY
Surely you know how this works by now. You're stuck, and there's nothing to do but ride it out. Why do these things keep happening to you? What things? Read on.
1. Handcuffed!
➝	Congratulations, you're now handcuffed to someone. Maybe your best friend, maybe your worst enemy. And those handcuffs are proving awfully hard to get out of, no matter how strong, sneaky, or shapeshifter-y you are.
2. Trapped in an Elevator!
➝	The stupid thing was working when you got into it, but now it's stopped moving, and even pounding on the buttons and yelling has no effect. You're just going to have to talk to/fight/murder/make out with whoever's stuck in there with you.
3. Forced Honesty!
➝	This sudden compulsion to tell the truth you've found yourself experiencing could become very inconvenient if the wrong person were to ask you the right question. Or the right person were to ask you the wrong one...
Choose your poison and put it in the subject line. Or, if you can't decide, let Fortuna choose for you. Go to random.org and generate a number between 1 and 4. Why 4? Because 4 is handcuffed in an elevator of forced honesty, of course. PS. You can always cheat on your die roll.

Comments

[scorpiowned]

(after a few seconds of wiggling and vague hand flopping, his arm goes limp. deal with dead weight then! he's got to figure out where to go from here. not sure if trap...) Information? (THE MOST EPIC OF ALL FROWNY FACES, too bad she can't see it.)

[whatever_it_takes]

[Okay she is not going to put up with that dead weight. She's snapping to attention if just to jar him.] Information, soldier. Intel, plans. projects, secret missions. Whereabouts of superiors, that sort of thing.

[A calculated pause, and then she's tipping her helmet at him and swinging arm arm slightly. Threateningly.] But, since you're a blue and I'm a blue, this is obviously a training session and therefore, we're in it for the long haul. I say we start it off with a ten mile jog.

[scorpiowned]

(oh my god. oh my god. he's going to hyperventilate just thinking about it. he has to save his own ass!) I can't, I tore my TLC!

[whatever_it_takes]

[YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING HER. :| ]

[Well, two can play at this game.] It's a good thing you don't need your TLC to run then, ins't it? In fact, it's better that you did tear it, because I can't see it being any use whatsoever. [Jerking on the handcuff.] Come on.