Abigail Hobbs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
versusnurture) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-09-23 10:21 pm
versusnurture) wrote in driftfleet2015-09-23 10:21 pm
one ➵ video / spam
Who: Abigail Hobbs and u
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck
When: 9/23, eveningish
[All things considered, this is actually a pretty good witness protection program. How are the police going to find her in space? And she didn't even have to die this time. It's probably the best kidnapping she's ever experienced.]
[Admittedly, she did spend some time wondering if this was the same thing again, if, somehow, doing what needed done had sent her back to the Barge, qualified her as an inmate again. But those were very fleeting concerns - first, because she knows what she did was just, and second, because this is nothing like the Barge, which looks disorganized on the surface but pulls together in crisis. The Fleet looks quite organized, with its shiny ships and perfect synchronization, but she has a suspicion that when shit hits the fan, everything falls apart.]
[That remains to be seen. The point is that she's learned from the last two times; she neither presents a face immediately nor gives herself away immediately, choosing instead to spend her time on the Marsiva and her first few days on the Starstruck settling in, going over the comms, gathering what information can be gathered. Only then does she step out into common spaces.]
[She pays particular attention to the cargo hold, where she deliberately and conspicuously practices some of the flashier moves Harvey taught her - although flash does not preclude precision, because she is very good at what she does. She also spends a lot of time in the kitchen, hanging out but also inspecting; she doesn't like the processed nature of the food provided, and she spends some time looking for an ingredients label before giving up.]
[When she eventually sets up a broadcast, it's in the kitchen, as well, futuristic cabinets lined up behind her head as she seems to focus somewhere slightly off-camera. For the record: the giant scar on her neck is totally visible, as is the fact that she only has one ear.]
It's sort of funny to me that when people come to a place like this, they either introduce themselves with a lot of questions or a lot of yelling. If anybody wants to answer my questions, that would be pretty hospitable of you, but I got tired of answering them after a while, so. It's not compulsory.
If anybody would rather perform an exchange, I can do that, too. Quid pro quo. My name is Abigail Hobbs. I come from Earth - Bloomington, Minnesota, originally, which I bet none of you have ever heard of - and I spent a couple of years in a place sort of like this, only not at all. My hobbies are hunting, fishing, cooking, and reading poetry. Once I wanted to be a psychiatrist.
The rest of it, you have to earn.
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck
When: 9/23, eveningish
[All things considered, this is actually a pretty good witness protection program. How are the police going to find her in space? And she didn't even have to die this time. It's probably the best kidnapping she's ever experienced.]
[Admittedly, she did spend some time wondering if this was the same thing again, if, somehow, doing what needed done had sent her back to the Barge, qualified her as an inmate again. But those were very fleeting concerns - first, because she knows what she did was just, and second, because this is nothing like the Barge, which looks disorganized on the surface but pulls together in crisis. The Fleet looks quite organized, with its shiny ships and perfect synchronization, but she has a suspicion that when shit hits the fan, everything falls apart.]
[That remains to be seen. The point is that she's learned from the last two times; she neither presents a face immediately nor gives herself away immediately, choosing instead to spend her time on the Marsiva and her first few days on the Starstruck settling in, going over the comms, gathering what information can be gathered. Only then does she step out into common spaces.]
[She pays particular attention to the cargo hold, where she deliberately and conspicuously practices some of the flashier moves Harvey taught her - although flash does not preclude precision, because she is very good at what she does. She also spends a lot of time in the kitchen, hanging out but also inspecting; she doesn't like the processed nature of the food provided, and she spends some time looking for an ingredients label before giving up.]
[When she eventually sets up a broadcast, it's in the kitchen, as well, futuristic cabinets lined up behind her head as she seems to focus somewhere slightly off-camera. For the record: the giant scar on her neck is totally visible, as is the fact that she only has one ear.]
It's sort of funny to me that when people come to a place like this, they either introduce themselves with a lot of questions or a lot of yelling. If anybody wants to answer my questions, that would be pretty hospitable of you, but I got tired of answering them after a while, so. It's not compulsory.
If anybody would rather perform an exchange, I can do that, too. Quid pro quo. My name is Abigail Hobbs. I come from Earth - Bloomington, Minnesota, originally, which I bet none of you have ever heard of - and I spent a couple of years in a place sort of like this, only not at all. My hobbies are hunting, fishing, cooking, and reading poetry. Once I wanted to be a psychiatrist.
The rest of it, you have to earn.
no subject
That's the best kind of art.
What are you going to teach me to make?
no subject
[He takes a moment to think, to remember what was easy for him to learn at first, to consider what lends itself to variability of ingredients.]
We could start with croquettes. You can make them with just about anything.
[He finds himself smiling in response again, drawn in by the grin she gives him.]
no subject
Croquettes are French, not Japanese, aren't they? I didn't realize your skills were so international.
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[He nods, again repeats:] Improvise.
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[Crafty. The word is crafty. Like a goddamn fox.]
The person who taught me . . . [Boy isn't right, man isn't right, warden would take too much explaining.] He needed to follow recipes, mostly. He needed order and organization. But it would be great to expand that. Maybe if I ever see him again, I can, I don't know, flambe something for him.
no subject
[He smiles quietly, but there's a flash of memory there, too - a rooftop, drawing close to a blond figure clad in black, teaching how to control power over living flame. His eyes cloud over with remembering, briefly, then he gives a light shake of his head and it's gone again.]
no subject
I used to know a guy . . . the last place I was . . . he was all fire. Literally. The impression he made was of somebody angry and lost - angry to cover up how lost he was. But I don't think he made that impression on everyone.
That's the thing about fire. It's always moving and changing, and nobody sees the exact same shape in it that someone else does.
. . . None of that really has to do with what you're saying. It just made me think of him.
no subject
[There's the smile again, small and polite. He doesn't mind, not really - it's just reflex for him, around other people, to keep putting on that expression.]
Is that the same person who taught you how to cook?
no subject
No, he taught me about . . . business.
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Not a businesswoman. But I could be wrong, I guess - I don't know you very well.
no subject
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