driftfleet | did somebody say mingle

A. Jedi Practice

[There might not be any other Jedi Knights in the fleet, but that isn't going to stop Vima from honing her skills. She doesn't have a lightsaber and she isn't keen on practicing mind stuff on unsuspecting friends, but there's still plenty she can do, and does.

She can hone her telekinesis skills by hovering small objects or tripping doors, lifting herself off the ground, or maybe using the Force to heighten her sight and hearing.]

B. Puttering

[If she's not practicing with the Force, Vima can be found piloting, or maybe hanging out in the engine room taking a look at things, or straightening up the bunkroom, kitchen, or cargo hold. (Maybe with the Force as an assistant with the heavier stuff.)

She may or may not be poking around in things she isn't much good at, but Vima would rather do something she's not supposed to than do nothing at all.]

A
['sup, Heron crew. This is a stranger wandering around through your halls. She is looking for your kitchen, but also poking around to gather the layout and see what kind of ship this is.]

B
[Hopefully someone will direct her to the kitchen! Once there, she has brought her own supplies. She will begin to set them out on the counter and start cooking something. You don't even have an oven, you guys. Fortunately, Rogue knows her way around a microwave, and the cook augment helps... a lot. Something is going to start smelling... well, not amazing, but pretty good.]

[ Well, there is definitely a smell wafting down the small hallway, and it does get Winter's attention. Whether or not she wanted it at that point in time. He moves down the hall so he can investigate, poking his head around the corner to watch for a moment.

He thinks he recognizes Rogue from when he was on the Marsiva, but it's difficult with her back turned to be certain. While she is distracted, he moves into the corner adjacent to the door; it has the best vantage point. He can watch the door and Rogue..

He waits for her to notice, watching. ]

[And Rogue certainly is distracted, muttering under her breath about the 'food' and 'supplies' and 'practical is one thing, but this is just tasteless--'

She appears to be in the middle of portioning out spices and various types of protein paste, while going back and forth to write what she is doing on a pad set upon the counter. The microwave is buzzing quietly, heating whatever it is she has put inside it - the source of that really almost inviting food smell.

Rogue hasn't lived this long because Wolverine trained her poorly. It doesn't take her too long to notice that something has changed in the room. It is not a sound, or a smell, or anything she would be able to point to later as much as a sense of presence, of suddenly being in a smaller room, of being the object of focus. When she does notice, her first response is perhaps more telling than she knows - it is a sudden, contained stillness, a coiling of muscle, heartbeat of held breath. It is a body going from relaxed to ready.

She turns her head first, brow furrowed, glancing at the door. When the absence of a person there fails to dispel the sensation of other, her whole body pivots, using her feet to equally displace her body weight in the new position. She spots him almost immediately then, and her eyes widen and she gasps.]

Oh!

[A hand jerks at her side, as if it would fly to her heart in an expression of surprise but a stronger impulse keeps it at her side. Her weight does shift back, an honest expression of shock that would also serve her well if she had to move.

Several subconscious observations keep her exactly where she is, including the fact that he is not blocking the door. For all that he is behind her, for all that he is in a corner behind her, there is nothing overtly threatening about his posture. He is clearly watching.

And then of course, there's the recognition of just who he is, and not just the fact that he is there. Jim, you masochistic jerk. You'd think you'd tell a gal.]

Uh - Hi? Wow, you're quiet. [Perhaps sneaking aboard to cook was not her brightest thought ever.] How long have you been there?

[Yes. She is asking this. On his ship.

Because in those moments, Rogue simply made up her mind to trust her friend (who she was later going to yell at an awful lot) and not treat this silent, looming, watching (don't forget strong and scary looking, her hind brain helpfully supplied) man as a threat until he proved himself to act as one. So yes. This is no dance. It's honest surprise and a bit of self-recrimination that he got in so quietly, for so long, and she didn't notice.]

Edited 2015-09-06 17:07 (UTC)

[ He does feel guilty for startling her- but he hadn't wanted to interrupt. She looked like she was doing something important. Winter's brow furrows as he offers her a small frown. ]

Four minutes at most.

[ He doesn't miss how she moves- ready to react if a threat is in her proximity. Even in the confines of the kitchen, she's ready to meet it head on. Thankfully, there's no need for that. He honestly did come by to watch what she was doing, and there is open curiosity on his face. He keeps his hands at his sides, clearly visible to show he doesn't mean any harm, either. ]

..What are you making?

Four minutes?

[Rogue is slightly horrified. Logan would kill her if he ever heard about this. At least he wasn't here... but Tony was, and if he ever found out...]

Oh man. [Okay. She really needed to... well, do a whole hell of a lot better than that. She'd been so relieved that there wasn't a war here... but just because there wasn't a war didn't mean there weren't significant threats. She's looking at one right now.

Except.. he really wasn't acting like much of a threat, aside from the stalking. And technically, she supposed, it was his ship. So. She shook her head and stepped to the side. She gives a deep breath to try to let go of some of the adrenaline discovering him in the room with her had produced, but it'll take more than that for her to let go the self-recrimination.]

C'mon over and see.

Edited 2015-09-07 04:35 (UTC)

[Okay, that is totally not what Leanne was expecting to see here.

She can only watch in silence at first, while Vima (and it's totally Vima doing it, right?!) actually makes things float and--

--Wow.]

That's so awesome! [She claps, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet.] You're the one doing that, right?!

I didn't want to interrupt.

[ Has trouble interrupting someone when they're busy. He still hesitates before walking in on Jim in his office and that invitation was open. Being stealthy is something he could give her pointers on, as well as being aware of her surroundings- though she did better than normal people.

Winter gives her as wide of a berth as he can in the confines of the kitchen as he strides over to get a look at...whatever she has going on. Something with the microwave, at least. ]

Would've been okay if ya did. It's your ship, after all.

[As someone who is always conscious of the space that must be maintained around her, Rogue certainly notices the wide berth he is giving her. He can't possibly know her preferences (though the gloves and the fact that any part of her body not covered by jumpsuit is covered by a sheer mesh might be a clue), so she takes it as a statement of intent. She finds herself warming to this stranger a little - it seems he is being as careful as he knows how, and that is something Rogue knows well how to appreciate.

She gives him a smile as he comes along side her, a smile like most of her smiles in that it is brief flicker which lights up her face before it is quickly banked into a more neutral expression.

It's only when he's beside her she realizes he's actually taller than Jim... and wonders at it for a moment, before putting all those sort of thoughts away to deal with the current moment.]

I've got a cook augment, but it only kicks in once I start tryin' ta do somethin' with it. I know you guys don't have a cook, so [Ugh, this is kind of embarrassing. She'd hoped to be on and off and leave a note explaining what had happened without having to talk about it.] I'm tryin' ta make up some recipes usin' what you've got so ya don't have to just eat... this.

[Dramatic pointing toward a glob of protein paste.]

[It's probably a mark of how much Vima does practice that she doesn't start and "drop" the little boxes that are slowly orbiting her head when she hears Leanne, but her presently heightened awareness also let her know that Leanne was approaching.

They do slow to a halt, though.]

I sure am! [Vima grins.] It's kind of a basic exercise, though. The sort of thing apprentices do.

It doesn't belong to me- I'm not the Captain.

[ Well, yes and no; they're technically the same person. But Jim is so much better than he is, there's no contest. But that is perhaps another conversation for a different day.

He nods his head at her explanation, pulling a face when she gestures to what they consider food on the ship. Winter is definitely not a fan, but he'll eat it without complaint. ]

Why, though? You didn't have to.

[ The blatant kindness around here still baffles him. The scale has to tip at some point and he'll be expected to pay out, right? Something was never for nothing..But what does she really stand to gain when he's got nothing to give? Unless, of course, she wants him to beat someone.

He's not too keen on that idea, but there's no telling. But she's a friend of Jim's, right? So she should be okay. The nagging denial is still clawing at the dark place in his brain- the same one that tells him that he belongs home. He looks at Rogue, brows drawn together as he tries to piece her together. ]

Apprentices?! [She laughs, crossing her arms. Whooaaa, is she serious right now? Is she really?]

Wow! I can't imagine what other things you could do if that's what apprentices do. It's... It's gotta be so awesome!

[Rogue didn't think being a captain worked like that. In her experience being in charge of something makes it so that it owns you more than you own it... anyway, that wasn't what she'd meant.]

Maybe not, but ya live here anyway. You've got far more of a right ta be here than I do.

[She looks up at him and gives him a brief grin, lightning sharp.]

If I only did the things I had ta do, life would be very borin'. [Eat... poop... sleep... Yawn.

That... didn't really answer his question, though. And honestly, she didn't really want to answer his question. It led into... things. So she is just going to... see if she can get away with that answer, yes.]

[ sometime after her awakening -- and very hastily once she'd been assigned to a ship -- peggy makes it a priority to find her way to the heron. long before she makes any concerted effort to better know her fellows upon the starstruck, she cajoles a meeting of ships that might let her slink on-board the other for the better part of a day.

and she doesn't do so randomly. she doesn't do it on a whim. instead, all is carefully charted: a call it put into captain barnes, and a perfectly perfunctory appointment is established. and when peggy arrives, it's not in the boiler-suit variety clothing that's offered as bog-standard to all in the fleet. no, it's once again in the well-pressed skirt-suit she'd been wearing upon her arrival.

laying eyes on him is like being drawn back into another year. at first, she tries to smile but simply can't redirect any pep to the corners of her mouth. ] Good grief, [ she announces. dryly. unable to bring herself straight into a warm embrace, she at least offers two open hands to the man whose death-report she'd read thrice over. just to be certain. ]

I can't believe I'm about to tell you what a sight you are for sore eyes.

[ Jim meets her just outside the docking bay, standing at attention, wearing his dark blue stealth suit. He's stiff as a board in it, solely because he's worried about how she might see him, when she does. The metal arm is exposed, the white star and blue circle to match the uniform. He could've hidden it; he thought long and hard to. In the end: he hasn't lied to Peggy. Evaded, perhaps. Misdirected. Withheld some things, as he felt was his right. But never, ever lied, and he's not about to start now. ]

[ He smiles warmly at her when she comes into view, perfectly coiffed as always. It's a force of will not to be taken back to 1943 immediately. ]

Don't. It might go to my head.

[ His expression softens, from fondness, and he takes both her hands, almost ashamed that the metal is cold. ]

May I?

[ Hug her, he means. He's missed her. ]

[ she touches the metal with ease. what is a metal arm to her? nothing like what it is to him, she supposes. she's part-awed at the complexity it poses, and part-reminded of what she said to daniel in the ssr archives. there's a grace in these missing or broken limbs: one that stresses a man's return. his avoidance of death. his survival. and she's trying to set aside the bitter understanding that barnes's comes at the cost of steve's.

so she takes his hands. inclines her head. and (after a moment's hesitation) consents to a hug. hell, she even takes that first step to draw him into her arms. it's a sort of friendly gesture they'd not shared during the war: their friendship wasn't that sort, and in uniform she couldn't afford to be sentimental. but the times are different.

they are different. ]

Quick. Get it over with, before I change my mind.

[ -- of course Peggy touches it with ease. Peggy who knows intimately what it's like when one doesn't fit into the mainstream discourse of what people find acceptable or not. Jim's not -- whole. She would never think so nor tolerate that kind of talk from him. Once upon a time he'd have found it hard to, but he's had a year and Natasha's fair weather sting to get used to it. ]

Yes'm.

[ He hugs her gently, but with deep affection. Stepping back, he gestures to the (neat) area around them. ]

Welcome to the Heron. My office is this way.

[ the hug isn't awkward, per se. it isn't unhappy. but nor is it simple or perfectly sweet. there is baggage in every light squeeze. somehow, it's easier to let her fingers linger on the metal instead. she isn't a woman who hugs easily outside of a crisis, but there's something lovely about being met with the request.

something lovely about her hug being wanted. so she lets it last a little longer. only to slide hard back into her usually brusque nature the moment they stepped back from one another.

peggy whistles low. ] Your office? Heavens. [ hands on her hips. nothing demure about her. ] You've done well for yourself.

[ Nothing is simple anymore, but old facades, armour from a lost world and a lifetime ago are a role he can step back into. Mostly. A lot of the pieces of Bucky are, he thinks, gone for good. A lot of that man never woke up from the ice. ]

Now, now, everyone has one. You too, where you've been assigned. Though I don't know why we need 'em, it's a small ship.

[ It's a small ship indeed, with narrow corridors, giving it a claustrophobic air. But everything is neatly arranged, nothing sparks or malfunctions, and the low hum of the engine follows them all the way to his door, which he opens for her. ]

Hah, you should see my mom... she's a Jedi Master, and she can show how much she earned the title. [Vima hasn't always thought so highly of her mom's abilities and responsibilities, but after training with Ulic and this several-month separation, she finds herself more and more appreciative of Nomi's accomplishments.] The Force can allow you to do so many things, if you put your trust in it. But it's a big responsibility too.

If I'm honest -- [ and she'll have to be ] -- I didn't stop long enough to peek 'round the Starstruck. It wasn't...

[ hmm. she ducks her head under a corridor's low opening and follows (with some confidence) to the door in question. ]

Well. My priorities were elsewhere.

[ Her first priority was her friend. Winter, he assumes, first, because they both have to worry about him, and there's a relief in knowing Peggy would stop at nothing to help. The office is neat as well, several blankets folded on the desk, the floor space cleared. Jim opts not to comment on it — probably shouldn't be drawing attention to that anyway. ]

We sleep here. He doesn't like the bunks.

[ Pulling out a chair for her, ]

Here.

[A Jedi Master? Oh, she definitely has to find out just what that is at some point.]

I guess it would be, huh? The... the Force? It figures it's gotta have a catch, too, I guess. [A laugh.] And with everything you can do...

[--Nah, focus on the cool stuff, not the potential danger.]

-- Who would.

[ like the bunks. her behaviour is rhetorical. bordered. peggy smooths the line of her skirt when she takes a seat, and crosses her feet at the ankles. her eyes acknowledge the blankets and the blank space with a cautiously stoic expression. they've turned the office into a tidy little bivouack. and can she blame them, really?

no. not at all. ] The ground was always more inviting than the cots.

[ soft. almost nostalgic, but not quite. she isn't fool enough to long for a time of bloodshed and suffering. ]

You don't gotta tell me, [ he says, equally rueful, as he sits opposite her ] the mattresses on these future beds, [ the word is like anathema. there doesn't seem to be peace in the future at all ] just too soft. I slept on — it's called tatami; it's from Japan. They're mats woven outta rice straw. All the joys of sleeping on the ground without the bonus of mud.

[ A beat. ]

Can I get you something to drink?

did somebody say mingle

[basically anytime?]

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A!

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( visiting -- initially closed to jim )

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