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Who: Eugene Woods and you!
Broadcast: Video, Fleet-wide
Action: Kitchen of the Vanquish
When: August 31st

Hey, guys.

[Eugene gives a wave to the camera, seated at his usual spot in the galley of the Vanquish. He's been making an array of flavored noodles by the looks of things, the hand-cut and variously-colored lengths of them draped out to dry on makeshift racks spread along the table.]

Serious question time - what do all of you do to not get crazy cabin fever around here? I mean, I'm not even a claustrophobic kind of guy. But this is a little too much sitting in a tin can, and I cannot be the only one wearing out the charm of their sudden knowledge of some random aspect of spacefaring life. You all have got to be cultivating some kinds of hobbies, right?

[He pans out across his work.]

Rustic-style flavored pasta to the best tips for things to do other than stare at the wall or carry out your work assignment. What's going on out there in the fleet at large?

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I'm mostly just trying to get a handle on what I'm supposed to be doing on my ship. The augment helps, but it doesn't make up for everything.

Racing!

[It's heard on the video as well as outside of it, seeing how Clay's quickly making his way down to the kitchen. And sure enough, he pops through the door just a few seconds later, and he's already heading over to grab Eugene's wrist.]

Come on, you've got to race with us. [LET'S GO LET'S GO he's pulling him along anyway but he can totally get out of it if he wants.]

What, staying ahead of the game isn't entertaining enough for you? Don't answer that. Atroma might decide to liven things up with a round of space dysentery.

[Clearly her hobby is optimism, right?]

Edited 2015-09-01 23:25 (UTC)

Huh. What's your augment?

[Oh god THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE SHIP OHSHI-]

Aaa-!

[Oh man and he's spry on top of fast and Eugene nearly topples off the stool, clattering and fumbling himself through a continued upright position with a hasty grab at his crutch, a rushed and totally instinctive few steps onto the metal foot that thumps and scrapes on the floor as he keeps it under himself-]

Clay-

[-the clumsiest tumble of steps he's had in living memory heart in his throat and when he exhales, somehow, there's a laugh in it.]

-are you crazy-?

It's for the lab. I know a few things when it comes to medical stuff from school back home, but not enough to know what i'm doing all the time and definitely not with this equipment.

Okay, so Eugene there's like five million things you can do, right? You can draw, or paint, or learn how to put people in joint locks, or Natasha could teach you to shoot, or you could have a fishy, or you could learn combat shuttle flight, or play checkers, or make up a deck of cards and steal everyone's money with fake rules, or have sex, or design beautiful unicorn murdershoes, or if you don't wanna have sex with other people you could masturbate a lot cause that's cool, or you could make little stuffed animals that look like your friends from home, or you could help Vision with his seaweed farm, or learn how to cut a bitch, or write stories, or make up dumb names for everyone and refuse to tell them what their dumb names are.

Can I have some pasta now?

Edited 2015-09-02 00:47 (UTC)

Oh geez, are you trying to give them ideas?

[He really wishes that response was more of a joke.]

[No, the screen isn't frozen. He's just staring. For that long.

After several seconds, and very slowly, he cracks the beginning of a smile.]

I, uh. I think you listed more things than I made batches.

Wow, yeah, that's . . . definitely a lot more involved than life in flavored protein land, here.

Are you in touch with any of the other scientists in the fleet? I think we have a few space-future genius types scattered around, maybe you could set up a mentoring arrangement?

That's me. I'm a helper.

[A quirk of her lips passes for a smile, even if it's sardonic.]

I'm more impressed by your hobby. That almost looks like real food.

[Absolutely brilliant grin.]

Guess you'll be cooking for the Windrose for a while! Lucky, lucky!

I was taking some lessons until fairly recently.

Fake it till you make it, right? [He smirks, nodding at the fruits of his labor.] We still haven't figured out a great fix for the complete and total lack of fresh produce. But at least this brings us up to the level of your average college kid.

[He responds too-slowly, like you'd speak to an over-excited grade-schooler, though the bemusement in his expression gentles it a bit.]

And is the rest of the rest of the Windrose this happy about noodles for every meal?

[That's . . . short. Eugene looks uncertain a moment, then understands. Or at least, thinks he does.]

Oh. Then they . . . uh-

[Geez. What do people actually call that phenomenon.]

-got voted off the island?

No. [She shakes her head a little.] It's a little more personal and complicated than that.

Yikes. Sorry to hear that.

[Not going to even open the door for the details on that one. Other than giving a sympathetic, rueful look after a few seconds.]

Did you get some good ratings out of it, at least-?

I don't know. That wasn't really on my mind at the time during or after.

[She knows he's just joking a little, but it's not something she's all that comfortable joking about.

Yeah, I know. Sorry. Black humor.

[He at least has the good grace to look apologetic. HE gets it. Not everyone quips and snarks their way through disaster.]

What sort of medical stuff were you studying back home?

Well, if your choice is rat bars or noodles every day~

Okay, well. Rat bars and bacon seaweed 'cause Vision is awesome.

What the heck? When did your ship get rats?

Um. No. I mean Ration bars. But they're not actually ration bars, that's just what I call protein cubes. Because they're like rat bars.

I was just starting out in premed. I hadn't really learned much of anything useful yet. [A wry smile.] I know my way around a bed pan though.

Oh.

. . . oh.

[Surprise melts into chagrin, and he rubs at his face, nodding.]

That makes more sense, okay. Yeah.

[Let's just gloss right over that unblinking acceptance of rats as a viable food source.]

So, noodles-!

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