video ♟ first complaint

[noncriminal]

Who: Murphy and YOU
Broadcast: Open
Action: HS Marsiva
When: Early morning


[It's been a while since he's sent a wave on any kind of network like this, but it's not like it's hard to remember how.]

You know - being back on a spaceship, alright, fine.

[The face onscreen is of a wiry, annoyed teenager. He keeps carding his fingers through his dry, soft, clean hair; it's a feeling he's not used to and it's still novel. His eyes are rolled skyward as he considers the room, sketching around at the ceiling and searching for something before he regards the actual camera.]

Weird... cleansing rituals. Sewing my clothes. There was probably some feet stuff while I was out. Whatever. I guess I'm not here to judge your lame kinks as long as I get some grub out of it.

[He looks back up again, and ticks an irritated finger towards the roof above him.]

But if we're gonna keep playing this new age, virgin with denial and a saxophone jazz crap all day long? I'm gonna need a damn weapon back.

Comments

[deshabille]

[Let the record state that he took her up on this. She is blameless.]

[And also singing a passable version of Dabbling in the Dew.]

[noncriminal]

[100% of the problems Murphy has come across in his life have come of people misinterpreting his sarcasm and this is NO DIFFERENT!!]

Would-

[He looks unmistakably uncomfortable at first. He can't remember the last time he heard music that wasn't sung at a reception or at some candy-ass hormone bath of teenagers locked in a sweaty room for an hour. Is he supposed to enjoy this? Do people enjoy this stuff?? Was this- Like the voice itself was fine but everything else was very easy to stop enduring.]

Wow- can we not? Can you - stop with the - Yield. What- language is that even supposed to be?

[deshabille]

[No, actually, Dabbling in the Dew is probably banned by the Geneva Convention. But that's not her problem. Her problem is that she wants to cause Murphy deep emotional suffering already, and it's apparently very easy.]

[She does actually stop, but she's grinning like a loon, looking very satisfied.]

It's Morporkian. English to you. I translated it, since your arrival seems like a special occasion.

[noncriminal]

So goddamn special. The eyes, they twinkle.

[Never do that again. Never sing that song again.]

There was once a guy whose only job was to stand by me [in my cage] and keep me up by banging pans and crap with a club [as a torture technique details are unimportant] and I still hate him a little less right now.

[A beat.]

So congrats, I guess?

[deshabille]

I am deeply flattered and am going to take a second to memorize everything about this moment, so that when I am old and doddering, I will still see it with perfect clarity.

[She pauses, staring off into the distance. One, two, thr-- okay that's enough.]

Except I'll never be old and doddering, so maybe that was all pointless. Still. Flattering.