#sb likes 90s shows reruns

[sb-asks]

After some hours, the decommissioner past by the cell once more, her hair braided and sprinkled with small lilies by her favourite SCP, SCP-166. She looks inside and stood there thinking for a few seconds before realizing the sticky note was gone. She looks inside the cell to see where it ended up, finally deciding that the note might be just torn up or... Eaten. Well, kids are kids. They don't know much about things. She took out another sticky note and writes down with her black pen.* "What's your name? Ps. Don't eat the sticky notes. They aren't to be eaten, kid." She chuckles after before sticking it a bit lower on the door knowing SB might be quite short.

She thinks for a few moments before walking away, humming some random tune.

OOC: AH she’s back :> Also I received this at like 5am what

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SB recognized the sound of footsteps from outside their chamber, even if from across said chamber. They thought maybe it was someone they knew, but they didn’t hear the loud creaking that meant that the door was opened. They made the small trip to their makeshift living room, looking to see if anyone was there. No one. Yet, they’d heard faded humming. SB didn’t like not knowing things so they went up to the glass looking into the chamber before subsequently remembering that it was one way.

In a few short seconds, they made their way to the door, managing to reach up high enough to open it. Pushing the heavy door open a crack, they looked around, a few researchers passed by, wondering what SB was doing but no one said anything. SB caught a faint glimpse of someone turning the corner but thought nothing of it, almost closing the door again before they spotted the yellow sticky note on the door out of the corner of their eye. It was placed lower this time, that much they could appreciate.

SB thought for a moment if this was a good idea. This could be some sort of trap to lure them. It could be some kind of-

That thought was immediately interrupted by SB grabbing the sticky note off the door and kicking the door shut.

Making their way over to the middle of the room, they sat crisscross on the carpeted floor, analyzing the note. They recognized the handwriting, they noticed. It was neater this time though. And written with an actual writing utensil. They took note of the question, as well as the ‘Ps.’ At the bottom. Before further inspection, they grabbed a green crayon, writing their name out in a surprisingly neat yet characteristically childish style—kudos to Dr. Foal for teaching them how to write.

“SB, what’s yours?”

Upon fully reading the postscript, they cocked their head a little in confusion. This was quickly refuted by the fact that it was fairly safe to assume that if something was missing, SB had either eaten it or attempted to. Or traded it. Nevertheless, they agreed not to eat this one. They’d wait it out. They weren’t too fond of being told what to do, though, so in the corner they wrote their own little postscript. A fairly modest:

“No.”

SB returned to the door, jumping up to stick the note back on. They took a fair glance to see if it looked halfway decent before nodding to themself and going back to watching 90s shows reruns.