Well, this is.. horrible.

[reconstitution]

Who: SS Caprine & visitors
Broadcast: ???
Action: All aboard
When: 8/3


[Dread is probably not a good feeling to have in the face of actually having something resembling a 'team' now. Unfortunately, the way this place seems to love uprooting and depositing people out of nowhere into unfamiliar territory, and it sets him on edge.

His eyes narrow as he looks around yet another place he's unaccustomed, being bombarded by-- colorful shreds of paper and overly-cheerful music. And even more people. Once again, he longs for the familiar weight of a weapon in his hand, but this fleet just loves to suck the comfort out.

At least this is a more permanent residence? Time would tell on that one.]

Comments

[tothefly]

[She'd taken a risk leaving the Windrose, but it was a calculated one--and necessary. Hopefully she'd make it before the weekly allotment of new recruits, make it before the Soldier could get off the Marsiva and disappear into the fleet. Maladict should know. Should be warned, just in case. Barnes already knew, was prepared, but Maladict...well, if she trusted anyone in this place, her name was high on the list.

She's in the cargo bay, broken left arm in a sling strapped to her chest, striding towards the direction of the bridge, when suddenly alarms go off in her head and she freezes. Familiar feelings crawl over her nerve endings, settle into the base of her spine, and her hand twitches towards the weapon strapped to her hip. Too exposed here, especially with her broken arm, and instead of retreating--showing weakness to someone like him--instead of retreating, she moves forward, slipping into the shadows under an overhang, holding her breath and waiting.]

[experiencepoints]

... Hello?

[Nightingale's been heading back and forth between the docking area and the kitchen all day now, it feels like, with how many people keep showing up to talk to Winter. She had thought she had heard someone, but then, arriving, she didn't see anyone? Maybe it was her imagination.]

[tothefly]

[The voice, the size and stature of the shadow on the cargo bay floor, has her relaxing, hand slipping from her weapon as she steps out into a slightly more lit area.]

Just me. Nothing to worry about. You look busy.

[experiencepoints]

[As soon as Nightingale sees her, she jumps.]

Where the fuck did you come from?!

[tothefly]

[She isn't smiling, not quite--she's still too on edge for that. Her current handicap is making her already healthy sense of paranoia vault into overdrive. But there's still something almost like a smile in her eyes as she waits for Nightingale to calm down.]

I just got here. Maybe you should consider laying off the caffeine, or at least cutting back on your intake. You seem a little jumpy.

((email tagging, sorry for default icons))

[experiencepoints]

If you know a way to make this kitchens dispense caffeine, I'd love to hear it.

[She folds her arms with a huff, but then notices Natasha's arm...]

What happened? Are you okay?

[tothefly]

The dispensers have tea and some off-brand Coke substitute, but it's anyone's guess whether or not it actually has caffeine. Could just be a placebo.

[She doesn't make any effort to hide the sling holding her left arm, instead just treats it like a fact. Favoring it would be a sign of weakness she can't afford right now.]

I fell. Should be healed in another week or two. No need to worry about me.

[save_the_souls]

[ Allen was leaving the ship, actually. He had stopped by to see Winter, talked to Nightingale for a bit- and now was heading across the cargo bay to depart.]

[That is, until he gets the nagging sense that he's not alone in the room. It's not any super sense, but enough years of training and fighting has taught him to be aware of his surroundings at least to tell when something's off]

...Someone there?

[tothefly]

[The voice isn't one she's familiar with, nor is the body. Male, average height, wary but not combative. She's more cautious than usual, with the broken arm. Handicapped just means she's got to be twice as smart. Hand still on the weapon at her side, she steps forward just far enough for her face to be seen, though the shadows hide her hand on the grip of her gun.]

Just passing through.

[She knows what he sees. Red hair, small stature, non-aggressive posture. No one special. Just a girl on a walk.]

[save_the_souls]

[He sees her step slightly out of the shadows, but not all the way, as she's hiding. Yeah...that's weird. Weird and not a sign of passing through. What would she even be doing in an area of the cargo bay like that?]

Are you...visiting someone on this ship?

[tothefly]

The captain. Seen her around?

[If he knows Mal at all, he'd know that she's got weirder friends than ones who tend to hide when they hear footsteps they don't recognize. She steps further out of the shadows, moving to get a better look at the stranger asking her questions.]

[save_the_souls]

[ As she steps out of the shadows, he notices the broken arm. That's right- Dr. Crusher had treated someone for a broken arm recently, hadn't she? He remembered seeing the daily medical report mentioning that- but not much else about the case. Broken arms weren't exactly unusual enough to require every medic to look into, after all.]

[As for Allen...well, he was unusual looking but didn't exactly appear threatening. White ponytail, scar across the left side of his face, a number of piercings on his ears, a jacket and white gloves, backpack. There was no sign of any weapons on him - he looks more like he just walked off a school campus.]

[He shakes his head]

I haven't, sorry. I was visiting some other friends on the ship.

[Were Winter and Nightingale people he'd consider friends? Honestly, who knows. But why get into that with a stranger?]

[tothefly]

[She's seen weirder. Honestly, after the accordion-playing pony, it would take a hell of a lot to surprise her, appearance-wise. Doesn't mean she doesn't observe as best she can, memorizing appearance, stance, voice. Can't ever hurt to add more to her mental roster of the fleet.]

Not a problem. Guess I'll just have to look. She's late for our appointment.

I didn't mean to startle you, earlier. Habit, I guess.

[nextlineis]

[Well, there's certainly been a lot of activity on the ship today! Normally Joseph would prefer to be planetside, but with the arrival of someone new, he opts to instead make himself a little more present on the ship. But, well, it seems everyone is relatively settled. So, he'd rather spend more time down on the planet than hanging around here. He does stop though in the bay. Something feels decidedly off, so he stops and doesn't head immediately for the shuttle.]

[After a moment or two of listening.]

Someone else hanging out here or am I about to find a really big rat?

[tothefly]

[The voice isn't familiar, but it also doesn't sound threatening. Could be a decoy, but she doesn't think so. Just seems like today, everyone's passing through the cargo bay at some point or another. Probably best if she doesn't try hiding until they go away--better to just seem like everything's normal, like every nerve she has isn't practically on fire. So she steps out from behind a corner, casual, almost posed.]

Sorry, didn't hear anyone else come in. I'm looking for the captain?

[nextlineis]

[He turns to look at her, not noticing anything particularly off about her aside from the more obvious injury.]

Mal? She's somewhere on-board. [Joseph shrugs a shoulder.] I haven't seen her yet today. Are you a friend of hers?

[tothefly]

[That's a more complicated question than the answers she gives, but it's true enough in its way.]

Yeah. I stop by every so often to visit, when I can, but it's been tricky the last month or so what with the Iskaulit and the threat of death by rabid bug fungus. I don't think we've met yet?

[nextlineis]

[The captain having friends...well, it's not totally a surprise, but maybe it's a little bit of a surprise that she's got semi-regular visitors. He smiles.]

Joseph Joestar. Most people just call me Jojo. You?

[tothefly]

Natasha Romanoff. From the Windrose. Are you new to the fleet?

[She hasn't been as on point with the new arrivals, the last few weeks.]

[reconstitution]

[ All he wants to do right now is find a nice, quiet area where he won't be constantly bombarded by people and take a moment. It's.. nice, in a way- being thought of enough to check on his well-being and how he's adjusting. At the same time, though, it's too much attention and he can feel himself growing restless.

He's on his way to the cargo bay when he can feel a shift. It's subtle, but he immediately goes on high alert, intentionally silencing his footsteps, eyes scanning every possible hiding place with scrutiny.

He's not alone, and so far, everyone he's come across on the Caprine has had loud and purposeful footsteps. Stalking into the cargo bay, his left hand clenches into a fist, ready for attack. His head tilts to the side so he can listen properly, waiting. ]

выйти из укрытия, мыши..

[tothefly]

[The cargo bay's been busy, and she's gotten sidetracked enough from the purpose of her original visit--though the earlier urgency comes screaming back with a vengeance at the sound of that voice. Familiar tone, familiar words. She had almost been a mouse, once, before she'd become a spider. Before, maybe she'd have answered, taunted, but she's older now, and knows the risk.]

[She waits, instead, and after a moment shifts silently, footsteps without sound as she moves for a better vantage point, better cover. She knows how good his senses are, what a risk it is, but she has to try. She needs any advantage she can get. One hand wraps around the grip of the gun at her side, ready to draw in an instant if she needs it.]

[reconstitution]

[ He stands there in the middle of the cargo bay, stock still. Whoever it is intentionally silenced their movement, just as he had. It was no more threat than previous, his reflexes were still lethal. It does catch his attention even more, though. They don't want to be found, so either they were waiting for someone else on the ship..

Or they were waiting for him. His thoughts go briefly to the message he had received before he was relocated. The possibility was rather high.

He doesn't necessarily want to start anything, but it's beyond that point by now. Hunting mode has been initiated at the very least.

His head snaps to the direction he believes someone is lurking, taking quiet but purposeful steps toward the area. Even without a weapon, the situation is still in his control. ]

[tothefly]

[She knows this dance just as well as he does. Better, maybe, since she's seen how it ends--but even then, she ended up with a bullet through her shoulder, and that was without a broken arm and the confinement of these ship walls.

She can sense the change, the hesitation and the movement, and her skin crawls as her heart beat accelerates, adrenaline steadying her hands. There's a taller stack of crates just over there, more obstacles to put between them, and she moves faster, sacrificing some silence for speed, hoping to get ahead of him--and as she moves, draws the gun from its holster, ready to fire.]

[reconstitution]

[ He follows the noise, no use making a direct move until whoever the hell it was stopped moving. In this space, it made it harder. Fighting in closed quarters like this made things..different. The playing field changed, as well as the fighting style.

He looks around for anything to use as a weapon; unfortunately nothing handheld. However, there is another crate nearby which he picks up. It's sturdy enough to land at least one solid hit. Switching it over to his left hand, he reels back, the mechanical arm emitting a whine as it revved up. He slings it toward the location of whomever is hiding, wanting to draw them out.

Obstacles were of minor concern. ]

[tothefly]

[She can feel her heart stop for the briefest of seconds at the sound of that arm. She knows something is coming, but the stack of crates in front of her is as much curse as blessing--blocking her view while shielding her--but it quickly becomes entirely curse as the column shatters. She dives, rolls, comes up behind the next crate with her gun out and aimed at him, leaving the two of them facing each other with half a dozen yards and several months between them. A cut on her cheek oozes a thin line of blood, but she doesn't blink.]

Don't.

[Words instead of bullets, in her mother tongue. Two months ago, even, she would have shot him first, but two months ago she hadn't known anything about James Barnes. And as much as she insists on telling the Captain that he's nothing like the Soldier, that the same person from two different worlds isn't the same person at all--she still doesn't shoot. Because...well. Because she'd started this. He could try and end it, but she can't be sure anymore what he will and won't do. All she can do is be ready.]