driftfleet | duck tales, oo-ooh!

KITCHEN

Disgusting...

[this is the worst food of all time. yes, more than all of the fast food restaurants combined. processed can of shit after processed box of shit, hiruma goes through the large refrigerator, cabinets, drawers—and throws the far more paltry junk to the floor. he's never seen so many packets of onion soup and spam in his goddamn life. what do they expect him to eat, here, with no doubt subpar cooks and food that'll rot holes in your gut before you even have the chance to get launched out of an airlock?

amassing a rather large, scattering pile of the stuff, clicking his tongue in disdain, he pushes his face into another cupboard.]

This is some serious bullshit.

[sorry for the mess, he thinks he's alone.]

CARGO BAY

[when in doubt, exercise. after that meal, hiruma feels sluggish enough to search for something high-energy to do so there'll be a chance of sleep in his late night forecast. he's not exactly loud until he spots a fist-sized ball on the floor of the bay, then things start to become bothersome, throwing the thing at the wall at precise angles that send it right back at him. breaths are choppy as he runs full tilt, working off excess stress and the mutiny of thoughts trying to force him into a corner; he won't crouch and hide and cry.

not a fucking chance. not to mention he's only seen the crew members of the wonderduck in passing, nodding his greetings, making himself assimilate and learn the environment. there's no hostility—not yet—and he's taking it as a temporarily good sign.

when his steps start lagging, his toe catches on the rubber mat of the treadmill, and entirely by accident (a very rare occasion), he staggers. harmless, only the ball is sent off course, trajectory set for the cargo bay door. let's hope you have quick reflexes, or can take a projectile to the forehead like a champ.]

[ holy shit, that certainly is a mess. jade stalls in the doorway to the kitchen, squinting at hiruma and slowly angling her head to the side, as if that might make it easier for her to suss out just what the hell, exactly, he is doing. ]

I can grow you some vegetables, if you want.

[ it comes in a deadpan, though she makes sure she's loud enough for him to hear with his head shoved into the cupboard. ]

But you're gonna have to put all this stuff back, first.

[jerking up, head on a swivel, hiruma looks at her critically before getting himself away from the cupboard—and up to his feet. a moment is taken to pat imaginary dust off of his pant legs, before he's straightening.]

That will take months, but it's the thought that counts.

[already abrasive, eying the... dog-eared girl with a tilt of his head.]

Once I get enough dough, there are gonna be some major changes 'round here regarding food. This is all—

[pulls an unimpressed face.]

I've got powers. If you bring me dirt, I can give you vegetables.

[ it's a power she'd been pretty dismissive of in asgard - it felt like a serious downgrade, compared to what she'd been able to do at home - but it had turned out way more useful than ever anticipated in space.

jade isn't quite defensive, but she does bristle a little at his abrasiveness. ]

And hey, we're doing the best we can here.

Are you now...

[for some reason, hiruma doubts that. there is always more to do in the grand scheme of things—even stowed away on a ship drifting aimlessly through deep space. there are always things that could be done better, improved upon, and made into something useful.

this junk is not "the best" they can do. not anymore. not with him aboard.]

I'll find dirt, leave that to me. You should tell me about our fearless leader, first.

Sure, but that depends on what you mean by "fearless leader."

[ jade puffs her cheeks out, before moving to take a seat on one of the chairs at the table. ]

Are you talking about our captain, or Atroma?

[Davesprite mercifully has the quick reflexes thing going for him and swerves sideways, the ball ricocheting off the door and back to Hiruma. He follows its path to the crew noob with a look, which effectively parses out as an underwhelmed really, dude?]

Kind of intense for a greeting, don't you think. [He glances around the rest of the bay, before he pockets his communicator and wanders in. He is decidedly less orange than his icons suggest and mostly looks normal besides the crow wings attached to him. And, y'know, the sunglasses indoors, but those are a fairly minor offense in the grand scheme of him.] There are easier ways to take the ball game into the hall.

[the fact that it bounces right back is nice, skipping a step by planting his feet on either side of the treadmill so he can scoop it up out of a crouch. ball in hand, he straightens, controlling his breaths with a click of sharp teeth shutting. —just what the fuck is this kid, a bird hybrid?

and here i thought the dog-ears were farfetched.]

I could think of flashier, if you need habitual scares in your life. [that really isn't an idle suggestion, either.] In the fucking hall, I'd be stationary. Not much of a challenge.

—Do you take your flying into the hall?

[Hiruma should have seen him when he still had the ghost butt.

He scoffs a little, hopping over the weight bench. It's in the most direct path to the pinball machine and, hey, captains play for free.]

Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but get used to the lack of challenges around here. [His voice is dry, because quite frankly, Davesprite is fucking bored with space.]

And yeah, sure. I take my flying where I want, dude. Even if there's not enough room.

[ Isaac knows the woes of the terrible space food perhaps better than most. he would do anything for solid, warm food from back home that lacked the synthetic and slightly gooey taste this stuff has.

so Isaac simply leans in the doorway for a minute, watching as the guy accumulates a serious mess. ]

Tell me about it. I'd kill for a pizza. [ which isn't wholly untrue. he might do damage if it meant he'd get real, solid food. ] But believe it or not we have better food than some ships, so. Welcome. [ ... he should try to be a little less sarcastic, but here they are. ]

Edited 2016-01-22 17:51 (UTC)

[ah, another visitor. hiruma stands to greet him, cans of—something gelatinous in his hands.]

Better food? Are you fucking kidding me? At least there'll be no competition, as the remaining ships will all have gotten scurvy.

[HE IS NOT THRILLED.]

You don't have to kill for a damn pizza, in this life. Why hasn't any of the ship's money gone to anything substantial?

Edited 2016-01-24 04:08 (UTC)

[ sorry, he might gag if Hiruma gets too close with the cans of weird gelatinous stuff, so Isaac takes a subtle sidestep. priorities. ]

No, I wish I was. I mean, we have some meat from hunting on the last planet but it's not mine. I don't think she'd care if we had some, but. Don't get used to it. There's a meat substitute. Don't try it. Seriously.

[ he shrugs, moving to make himself something to drink. maybe "orange drink" today. whatever that means. ] Trust me, you'd rather be here than some of the ships. I was on one before this that I had to duck to get around everywhere. They have a great sense of humor around here.

I ain't gonna try some bullshit substitute for the vitamins we're supposed to be downing, you're in good fucking company.

[dropping the tin of goop unceremoniously onto the floor with the rest of the non-perishable coronaries-in-a-can, hiruma's eyes trail after isaac, vaguely interested in the happenings of their ship—and the others in the fleet. he's been ready to size up which one he'll profit most in, but so far he's having a difficult time settling into one.

go figure.]

A great sense of humour is important, but how do we do in the rankings?

Well you're going to have to or you're not going to be getting vitamins at all. When we're not on a planet the choices are pretty limited. Sorry.

[ though there isn't anything overly apologetic in his tone as he fills his cup, sipping at it with a sort of quiet distaste. it's not bad, it's an orange flavored drink. he's had worse. he's too aware of the way the guy across from him drops some gloopy stuff onto the floor and it makes Isaac's stomach flip. god he hates the food here. ]

Depends. Doing pretty okay on rankings I guess, a friend of mine and I recently TP'd the Marsiva. Toilet paper everywhere. No, really, then there was money in my account. [ he gives a shrug and goes back for a refill on his drink. ] You gonna clean that up?

duck tales, oo-ooh!

no subject

kitchen

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cargo bay;

no subject

no subject

kitchen;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject