Thomas "TJ" Hammond

[The contents of TJ's pack have been dumped onto his bed, and the shot lingers on them for a moment, before he turns the communicator to himself, sitting on the bed, looking SO UNIMPRESSED.]

Look, I don't do camping or-- or spelunking, or whatever this shit's for. And I don't even have a warden, so can I just... stay here? Hey, someone can even leave me a warden key so I can get into the bar. [Because THAT is how prison works, TJ.]

I promise I won't tear the ship up while you all are having the time of your lives in wherever-the-fuck.

[OOC: AND ON THAT NOTE, I'm going back in time and doing TJ's old tags after a quick Wichita post. Feel free to not-respond to anything if you think too much time has passed, or poke me to handwave.]