driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Coil Lenn and you!
Broadcast: Text, open to all
Action: Anyone visiting the SS Red Fish
When: mid-June

→ [Text]
[it's maybe not as attention-getting as an audio or video broadcast, but a sort of quiet advertisement goes out over the network anyway.]

Engineers or anyone with construction/mechanical skills: your assistance is required aboard the SS Red Fish. please reply if interested. or come to the Red Fish. Thank you.

→ [Action]
[and Coil leaves the door unlocked for anyone who might happen by.

those who do happen by, or live on the ship to begin with, can find Coil feverishly tinkering away in the lab. and it appears that he has kind of rearranged things. he hes redecorated a bit.

some storage cabinets and other things along one wall must not have been that important, because they have all been dragged away or removed entirely, and he is currently struggling to remove pieces of the wall panel itself. he doesn't have the right tools for it, but that certainly isn't going to stop him. and who knows what all off this scrap metal lying around in hazardous-looking piles is supposed to be for...

so, yeah. watch your step. don't get tetanus.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Well, okay. She'll just stand here for a minute.]

[. . .]

[And start poking around at what's inside the walls. This is fascinating.]

Are you trying to take the whole damn ship apart?

[he has really only dug down to that impenetrable wall of inner-workings, but it's something nonetheless. it's a lot of work when you don't have the right tools.

and he shakes this time, and looks as though he's going to explain... but steps over to the pile of scrap metal and picks up a short length of heavy chain instead.

he points at the chain, and points at the hole in the wall.]

[. . . Okay. Well. That's certainly something.]

Do you want the chain back in the wall, or do you want the rest of the chain taken out?

[again silently, he stoops down to hold one end of the chain in the hole in the wall--attempting to show where he wants it anchored.

because having a heavy chain sticking out of your wall is normal and not weird at all.]

. . . You want the chain in the wall.

[Okeydokey, she can roll with that.]

Anchored in any particular way, or should I just use my best judgment?

[still holding one end in the wall, he mimes yanking on it with his other hand--showing that it should still be rooted strongly even when force is applied.

and then he reaches over to tap a space on the wall next to it, and does his best gesturing to show that he'd like a second one anchored next to it.

very determined about this, he looks up from his attempts at communication and gives her a pretty expectant look, waiting for an answer.]

[Her eyes . . . narrow slightly.]

Are you planning to chain someone to this wall? Sir?

[his scarred-up mouth presses pretty flat at the question, and he hesitates... glancing around after a moment--trying to remember where a pen and paper might be in all the mess, maybe.

explaining is problematic when you can't speak. he eventually shakes his head, but it is not a confident gesture.]

[Again with the narrowing. His reaction indicates that he wasn't happy about the implication, but people can lie with their faces as well as their words. She's never met him before and has no reason to trust him.]

You might chain someone to this wall?

[yeah, okay, he sees where this might look pretty bad. it totally makes sense to him, though... so, he holds up a finger for her to wait while he stands and looks for something to write on.

he goes to his notes and schematics and flips them over so he can write on the back. soon, he's holding out a note for her that reads:

'we have no restraints here. sometimes they are needed.']

[She is . . . super patient about this until she actually reads what he's written, and then all of her cool facade slips into something approaching horror.]

For?

[his mouth presses flat in frustration, and he gestures wide with his hands, while shrugging.

to him, there are many obvious uses where having restraints on hand would be useful or even vital.]

I'm sorry. [She's not sorry.] But I'm not doing this for you.

[he just blinks, looking shocked. he apparently hadn't expected that answer as a possibility.

and it takes him a second, but he turns back to his paper and hastily scribbles on an addition.

'like in hospitals' followed by the underlined word 'important']

Is someone ill here?

[If they are, like, maybe she'll consider it. But probably not. She's getting a seriously bad vibe.]

[he tucks his note under the stack of papers so he can write on a new sheet.

this time, he takes a minute to think and write out a longer note--but even in writing, communicating is not his strong suit.

'build it now for when we need it,' he writes. 'sometimes things need to be held still.']

I'm sorry.

[She's really not sorry. She's mostly just creeped out.]

But I can't do this for you. You'll have to ask someone else.

[he breathes a small sigh through his teeth, and reflexively signs a word at her in his frustration.

but being that she likely doesn't know sign language, he corrects himself by hastily jotting down another word on the paper-- 'Why??']

[Her expression is solemn, honest, for once.]

Because I don't trust you, and I do trust my instincts.

[She can't be a part of this. Even if it's likely going to get done anyway, she can't get involved, not in good conscience.]

[he really can't believe this. he probably should have expected that something like this might happen, but he didn't. this is completely surprising to him.

so, there really isn't much to do then, aside from lift his chin a little in the direction of the door.]

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