driftfleet | video ♟ first complaint

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[bro unless it is the first one we are in for a fucking RIDE]

Uhh. You asked about it. Coulda just fell by the wayside, but you haaaad to think about it.

Edited 2015-10-04 00:15 (UTC)

You started it by saying it. You were trying to draw attention to yourself.

[He said, like the world's most enormous hypocrite.]

I, a confused, new citizen in this fleet, was trying to find a weapon to protect myself.

You, some guy, approached a 17-year-old boy and started talking to him about your foot fetishes.

So who's in the wrong here?

[. . . man. It is extremely fucking tempting suddenly to find this kid and beat the shit out of him. He has access to wall-to-wall weapons and an entire engine room full of wrenches.]

Still you. And you'll be able to find weapons easily enough when people start throwing them at your head in frustration, which I can only imagine was your original goal.

[WOW, that was not actually a record for him. But still admirable.

Murphy's eyeballs are doing the swift climb into the stratosphere thing again.]

Yeah, maybe one of them would concuss me and I could forget every other stupid thing about this conversation, except for the fact that you started asking about the feet.

[There's a brief pause here, because, out of curiosity, he checked the rest of this shitshow to see if anyone else asked about the stupid feet thing and found Murphy Murphy-ing at Elena.]

[That is not great news. His eyes narrow fractionally.]

Mm, or maybe you'd get permanent brain damage and we'd all be spared.

[Man, how accurately can he throw a wrench?]

Why, [Murphy's voice dries out like a particularly crotchety prune,] you want someone to talk about politics with?

[Guess he'll file this with the other death threats. Under V for Vegetable.] At least buy me a drink before you ask me to slip into something more comfortable. [Pause.] Like a coma.

I don't know. I don't really think you're worth that much of my time.

[He would pop his collar if he were from a few decades further in the future.]