make me make me impressed

[deshabille]

Who: CAPRINE CREW ASSEMBLE
Broadcast: None!
Action: Caprine & visitors!
When: After this shuffle!

[Well, all things considered, the Caprine isn't the biggest shitshow of a ship in the Fleet. Right now. At this particular moment. There are worse places to end up!]

[At least that's what the crew will tell you, Varric. Except possibly Nightingale, who tries to keep it real.]

[IT'S A MINGLE, EVERYBODY INSIDE.]

Comments

[deshabille]

[Mal can be found in the kitchens, with a cup of coffee or forcing Joseph to eat disgusting space food; on the bridge, making sure nobody crashes the ship into things; entertaining visitors in the cargo bay; or practicing in an out-of-the-way common space, either the very precise basics of ballet or hand-to-hand combat, if she's lucky enough to have found a partner for the day.]

[She also generally checks in with every member of the crew at least once a day, whether they like it or not. So, you know. Feel free to assume a nosy vampire is poking her head over your shoulder at any given point in time.]

[experiencepoints]

[Well, I was cooking, until a vampire got all up in my space.]

What are you doing?

[nextlineis]

[Some people are just minding their own business when they come into the cargo bay. Minding their own business only to immediately make someone else's business their business. This is exactly what happens when Joseph walks in on Mal practicing ballet.]

[...Ballet.]

[Joseph slaps a hand over his mouth almost immediately and looks like he's about to cry. His shoulders start shaking as he forces himself not to look. He lasts approximately five seconds like this before he starts snorting and simply collapses to his knees with muffled laughter. He's just going to try and crawl away before she kills him.]

[deshabille]

[She's practicing a plie when Joseph shows up. The moment she sees him she sighs, a long, slow exhale, because she knows him and she knows what's coming. When he claps his hand over his mouth, then starts laughing, she cocks her head at him, more reminiscent of a predatory bird than a human being; and when he tries to crawl away, it looks almost like she's going to let him.]

[Almost.]

[But just before he's out of reach, she pushes up out of the plie and spins on her heel, aiming a roundhouse kick for his chin.]

[nextlineis]

[The unfortunate thing about being so big is that you are very difficult to miss when you're not paying attention. So laughing when in the presence of someone who can and will very easily kick your ass? You should probably stop. Sadly, Joseph does not do a lot of things he should probably do and thus he is flipped over onto his back by that kick.]

[...And yet, that is not enough to make him stop laughing. He might actually be nearing hysteria as he's just shaking with silent laughter on the floor.]

[deshabille]

[Well, at least he's down now. She lands easy on her feet after the kick, knees bent slightly, and spends no time considering her next move. When the belly is bared, you rip it apart.]

[Or, in this case, jump (quite gracefully, but not particularly true to form, and she's pleased Natasha isn't here to see it really) to land with both feet wedged firmly in his gut.]

[nextlineis]

[Okay, that gets him to stop laughing his fool head off. If only because it knocks the air completely out of him and sends him into a coughing fit, but he's really not that mad about it. There's still a 65% chance he'll keep laughing once he can breathe again. But in the meantime, he's knocking her off him.]

[openhands]

[Now that Cassandra is no longer aboard the Red Fish, there's a little more equality in how often they're at one another's ships. (Mal's visits to Cassandra's ships are likewise far more relaxed.) But that doesn't mean Cassandra doesn't still have a mild preference for being aboard the Caprine. It's always been an unquestionable safe space for the both of them. So maybe she sometimes makes more visits to Mal than Mal does to her.]

[At any rate, she's here today. They've gone on with sparring with one another until Cassandra's hit her limit. (This is still a long time and certainly nothing to snuff at, but certainly far sooner than Mal by comparison.)]

You're getting better.

[deshabille]

[Praise from Cassandra is always nice, much better than praise from anyone else. It makes her grin, bouncing back on the balls of her feet, still full of energy even after their fight.]

I know. Isn't it exciting?

[. . . which probably means "thank you"?]

[openhands]

I said better. Not good enough to start smiling like that.

[But a smile might be starting to form on Cassandra's face anyway. You are dumb, Mal, but you are also incredibly cute.]

[deshabille]

[She laughs, shoving her hands in her pockets and cocking her head up at Cassandra. She sees that smile.]

Oh no? When's good enough to start smiling like this? I keep misplacing my rulebook.

[openhands]

I'll let you know when that happens. [Which means it will never be. Gasp, Cassandra knows how to play around!!!] But I...am impressed.

OPEN

[merchantprince]

[Varric doesn't get uprooted often, but when he does, you can be assured that he is going to settle in as soon as possible. As comfortably as possible. He's still working on that second part, but as for the first part, he's already claimed a corner of the cargo bay as his own. His makeshift desk (a couple cinder blocks and some plywood) is organized-- for the moment-- and only has a few pages of written manuscript stacked on the top, but by god he will finish this thing at some point. His fancy author's chair is an upturned bucket with a spare pillow on it.

Look, it's a work in progress.

This is where he spends his time when he's not poking around the ship. One may also find him wrestling the beverage machine for tea, calibrating the biggest laser rifle in the armory room, or reclined on the bridge in the shooty chair with his feet on the nearest counter-- reading something on his comm device, of course.]

[experiencepoints]

[Wrestling the beverage machine will lead to a ball of wind smacking Varric upside the back of the head.]

Stop that.

[merchantprince]

[Varric rubs at the back of his head and looks around. He's expecting something to have hit him, not... air?]

What the hell?

[He sees Nightingale and squints.]

Don't get all bent out of shape, kid. I'm not trying to hurt it, I'm just smacking it around a little until it gets unjammed. Right now it doesn't want to give out tea.

[experiencepoints]

First of all, I'm not a kid, second of all, don't smack it around. If you break it, we might not get another one. Who are you, anyway?

[merchantprince]

Whatever, all you humans look the same to me. [He sighs in exasperation and jams a knife up the spout.] I'm not going to break it, I know what I'm doing. Bet I've been here longer than you have.

[He holds the cup under the dispenser. This time, the tea trickles out all nice and hot like it ought to be.]

See? I'm a professional.

[That doesn't answer her question though, and he knows it. But he takes his sweet time, making his tea and all of that. He lost all his ale when he disappeared the first time around and it's the only thing that keeps him sane sometimes.]

I guess you missed the confetti. [Sip.] Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and retired adventurer.

[experiencepoints]

[As much as she tries to make the kitchen work, she's actually spitefully mad when the beverage machine does work. She had wanted it to fail to prove her right.]

Oh, don't give me that shit. Whatever you are, you don't look so different from humans that you can't tell.

... "Retired", huh?

[nextlineis]

[Joseph frequents the cargo bay a lot sometimes just so he doesn't always feel like he's, you know, being squashed. He's tall and wide, these ships are definitely not all that designed for someone his size, but the cargo bay? That's a little roomier. So, he's wandered on in only to see Varric at his makeshift desk and chair. Joseph raises an eyebrow.]

Is that comfortable?

[merchantprince]

[He flips a pen along his fingers.]

Not really, but it beats trying to write on a bed. I'll pick up a chair when we hit the next waystation.

[The pen does little loops as he looks over Joseph.]

Do the cots even fit you?

[nextlineis]

[Joseph shrugs.]

I could sleep anywhere if I tried. [If trying was defined by just closing your eyes. Joseph's got talents, yo.] I don't know how the hell people put up with those tiny hatches though with individual rooms on other ships.

[It's the only thing he minds about hanging out with Caesar on the Tourist. At least the crew here share a room so it's not as bad as it could be. From his very tall perspective anyway.]

[merchantprince]

Right? I can barely fit, myself. Tight spaces underground really aren't my thing. I'll pass. Forever. Though having a space of my own would be nice for privacy, I'm not sure I can sacrifice my waistline.

[He sets his pen down.]

I'm Varric, by the way. I don't think I caught your name.

[nextlineis]

[He doesn't laugh, but he does grin at the joke about Varric's waistline all the same.]

Joseph. But you can call me Jojo.

[Yep. This 6'5", muscular as hell guy sure does go by Jojo.]

[experiencepoints]

[How are we not the biggest shitshow, guys. We are totally the shitshow of the fleet.

That said, Nightingale can either be found in the kitchen, figuring out new ways to try to make the damned place work, or in her room, playing around on her comm. Going to new places is for nerds.]

[nextlineis]

[When not taking the shuttles out for unnecessary racing around, Joseph can be found in one of two places. The first is in the bunk, taking a nap. It is on good authority that I can tell you, it apparently sounds like he is murdering a small bear??? Which despite Joseph's size, he absolutely would not do. Especially if said small bear is a baby bear. C'mon. Who the fuck could do something that awful to a bear? Anyway, just like...kick his cot or something and he might wake up? Just don't kick him, okay. That's fucking rude.]

[The other place to check for him is on the bridge. Even when not piloting, Joseph occupies the seat and is sitting with his communicator. Blonde ninjas are probably threatening to scare the shit out of him again because they're assholes. Don't worry though; if he is piloting, he's not texting and driving. He is Responsible sometimes.]