driftfleet | Bobby B

Who: Robert Baratheon
Broadcast: Fleetwide video.
Action: The Marsiva
When: Soon.

[The camera catches view of a man who is as thick as he is tall standing in front of the massive windows that separate the safety of the Marsiva from the inhospitable void of space on the other side of it. For many, this would be a breathtaking view of the cosmos. The King saw it only as a nuisance. Dressed in rich silk and velvet with a antlered crown on his head, Robert Baratheon was no man to be toyed with and he was eager to be free, even if he could not fully comprehend what he was seeing. He had never been a learned man and the concept of space itself was so far beyond his sphere of experience. He saw nothing but a night sky and though he could not see the ground, that only posed a problem to be solved later.

Later meaning after he had broken through the glass with a chair that he had caused significant damage to by beating it repeatedly against the window. With each thrust he roared in something between fury and excitement.]

That's right! Try and cage me, you bastards! Do you think this metal prison can hold me? Come now! Have at me!

[Yet for all his bravado and effort, the window did not even crack. Besides that, he was not so fit as he was in his youth. Winded and exhausted, he eventually righted the dented chair so he could sit on it instead. Only then did he turn his attention back to the communicator. He could not say why or how, but he understood that it was meant for communicating. He twisted in his hands a few times before deciding to play the fool and speak into it.]

...well? Does this damned bloody thing work or not?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You'll mind your tongue, girl. Your king is speaking.

[He might not fit the traditional image of a king, but he certainly can talk like one. In his tone comes the natural tone of command and condescension that only comes from breeding and a lifetime of privilege.]

There's no damn king in charge here, let alone you.

[She snorts, leaning back, maybe in a small show of defiance.]

And this thing's working just fine. That was a really sad showing you put on.

[He snorts derisively. She is most assuredly common. Robert has nothing against commoners, but he can't very well have one speaking to him like this, let alone a woman.]

Have you spent your life under a rock, wench? I am Robert, King of the Seven Kingdoms.

[Under a floor, but that's irrelevant. She stares at the communicator, almost bored.]

Look Bob, wherever that is, you're not there anymore. There are plenty of people here who won't know or care about that crap. Better get off your high horse before someone yanks you off themselves.

I would welcome the challenge.

[... not that he's on his horse right now. But this girl was not exceptionally clever, so he saw no reason to dissuade her of that notion. Better that his foes think he's mounted.]

[Octavia just rolls her eyes at hm. Jesus, who are they stuck with now.]

Yeah, okay. There's a cafeteria to the other side of the ship. Head over there if you want to stuff your face or anything.

Do I look dead to you, wench? Why should my face need stuffed?

[After all, he's not quite been beheaded just yet.]

[Octavia opens her mouth for a retort, but it dawns on her that he probably doesn't even understand the expression.]

Eating. Stuffing your face is an expression that means eating.

[After considering that, he supposes it makes a certain amount of sense. He has an honest chuckle at that.]

Yes... stuffing! Hah, I could use a good stuffing. How do I find this cafeteria? I've no sense of anything in this great bloody fortress.

[There's a twitch of a smile on Octavia's side before she addresses the direction thing.]

It's across the room. You should see a place set up with tables and chairs by some large metal boxes. [Fridges. Maybe.]

[Well, that is where he fetched the chair. But he had given no thought to the strange looking boxes that had lined the walls. Now that he's back in that direction, he's not sure what to make of them.]

It makes for a piss poor kitchen. [He's been known to sneak into kitchens before, but those were places where food was always out and in sight. This seemed empty in contrast.] Is there no ale to drink?

It works.

[She's not defending the damn place, it's just her honest opinion.]

No alcohol, just deal with it. Go to one of the two boxes on the right, take the handle, and pull towards you.

[Food comes in a very distant second to this more immediate concern. He ignores her instruction.]

None? Then where do I find it? It's a steady drink I need. The food will keep.

There's water. And probably juice.

[A sigh. Ugh, you lush.]

Just pull the handle.

It's ale I want, not juice or water.

[Still, he pulls the handle and lo and behold, he is greeted to the contents of a refrigerator. There is absolutely nothing that looks like food to him, which is unsurprisingly given the distinct lack of plastic wrappers in Westeros.]

Well? It's bloody cold in there. What of it?

You'll have to get used to not having all the crap you want.

[Octavia snorts, almost wishing she could go over there and slap him upside the back of his head.]

There's food. Open a drawer on the bottom, and you might find something else. Who knows.

[Robert mutters something less than courteous about women, only to open the drawer to find cubes wrapped in a metallic looking plastic.]

What am I to do with this? I've no use for lumps of steel.

[He doesn't even bother picking them up to see they don't weigh as much as metal would. At best, he could use them as projectiles. But he would need a target first.]

[Ugh, she hears that, and her patience reaches its limits.]

Listen, dumb ass, I'm trying to help you, but you're making it damn hard with your attitude. I don't know or care what messed up world you're from, but here you won't get far at all if you keep treating the women the way you are. In fact, my money'd be on you being dead before the next month's up.

[Octavia reaches for her communicator, all but growling.]

Unwrap them, the foil's just to keep it wrapped. You can eat what's inside. Try not to break too much.

[And she ends the feed.]

[Robert grinds his teeth. Oh how he would rage, if there was anything to rage at. This device is infuriating - or rather, the woman on the other side is. Or the woman he assumes is on the other side. It does not occur to him that she is no longer there.]

You would learn to mind your tongue, girl. If it's chivalry you want from me, you might act the part a lady.

[Still, he collects the foil and unwraps it awkwardly. What he sees inside scarcely looks appetizing, but it does smell something like food. He is in no rush to try to eat it. But... he will. Eventually.]

Bobby B - One

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