action.

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max and the crew of the SS Starstruck and any visitors.
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Max is sick after falling into a frozen lake. He is insufferable about it. he's been awful active for an antisocial dude
When: January 8-9th-ish.

[After a rather disappointing day of nearly freezing to death thanks to big ugly creatures, hallucinations, and generalized know-nothingness of an arctic terrain, Max is confined (at last) to a bed aboard the SS Starstruck. Well, partly. A slight fever and a sneezy, lethargic exposition is apprently not enough to keep him pinned down.

A sick Max is even more insufferable, turns out.

It's just — difficult for him to explain in words, what being still does to him. It's one thing to sit in a driver's seat, or even a passenger's seat, and to get out and feel your ass and legs numbed after hours of going on and on until the guzzoline runs dry. At least you can see the open world whizzing passed you.

But a bed. For one thing, Max hasn't slept in an actual bed in... He's not sure how many days. Not counting the rare occurrences, he's not even sure he's slept in anything more than a car's reclined seat since he first began his journey on the dystopian-gone-apocalyptic roadways. This is torturous. He's fairly sure Peggy and Nami and Furiosa are out to get him for sure. As it turns out, no-nonsense women are still far and beyond his greatest weakness and adversary. He's been shed of his bulky uncomfortable jacket and left in his mid-sleeve shirt, and in that way he's looking like an paradox: the most comfortable discomforted man in the galaxy.

So yep, when people aren't looking, he's getting up and wandering back into the cargo holds, where he had originally spent most of his time. In fact, one could probably board a shuttle and find him passed out asleep in the driver's seat, swaddled up in blankets. And still with a mildly sour disposition. Be careful waking him, he swings sometimes.

He only wanders to the main control room, where the crew would pilot their ship, when it's empty enough. Otherwise, he'll dip into the kitchen and eat, because being sick back home didn't mean avoiding food; if you were needing sustenance and it was there, you had to keep going, force something down to keep your strength up. Max was fairly good at it.

Unlike... you know. Being horrible at staying put.

On the bright side, he doesn't consider returning to the planet?

Not yet, anyway.]

Comments

Action

[kill_switch]

[Maybe it's naive to expect to find him in his room when she comes to visit. Furiosa is definitely not surprised to find it empty, though, and what ensues is a short manhunt before she finds him in the shuttle. She doesn't wake him up, but starts to set a few leftover supplies from her own bout with illness. There's a couple boxes of tea and soup that she'd gotten from the planet, half a pouch of cough drops, a scarf that she'd gotten herself when she'd been there (freshly washed), and of course, a packet of tissues.]

[After that's deposited, she shifts slightly and sets a small, potted plant on the console infront of him, looking down to see if he's awake now. This she wants back.]

Action

[theroadwarrior]

[Max, as usual, wakes with a start. It's not quite as violent as him in the war rig, but he does suck in a breath and dart to sit upright when he realizes he hears someone nearby; it's when he knows he must be sick, letting someone wander up on him. When his wild eyes dart to Furiosa, though, he calms quickly, sinking back into the seat.]

Mm. Hey.

[His faintly flushed expression grows a bit more puzzled as his gaze drifts across the supplies, landing on the plant. As if he can't comprehend that maybe she's legitimately bringing him things to help with his sickness.]

Re: Action

[kill_switch]

Hey.

[She doesn't flinch, since she was already half expecting him to wake in such a manner. She points down to the supplies in the seat, her prosthetic is different, cobbled together from items she'd found on her own ship.]

Tea, soup, scarf, tissues ... [She points up at the plant,] Air. This one you can' have, I'll need it back when you're better. [It was more the image of green that kept her morale up when she was feeling under the weather, but the idea of having her own fresh oxygen supply didn't hurt either.]

Action

[theroadwarrior]

[His gaze washes over all the supplies once again, as if the first time wasn't enough.]

Aahm.

[He'd never say as much, but he's humbled by the offer of the plant. He knows even by their short time together how much she appreciated the green, appreciated the image of home. The Citadel would have so much more for her to enjoy, this time free to sow the seeds herself with the others. It's unfair that she's here, but life is so unfair. And this is not as dangerous as their world. Small mercies.

Perhaps it's better for her here.

He leans forward to inspect the plant a careful touch not characteristic of him. The blanket slips down and reveals the healed Citadel mark at the base of his neck — the reminder of home, one that he isn't so sure is as awful as it was before. After all, while it's... a memory of being used, it's also a symbol of what the Wives and she now owned.

Though he imagines they'll likely change it from Joe's old vision.

Better to look at it more positively. Unlike the tattoo.]

Where'd it come from?

Action

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[After dealing with Felix, Wanda had thought that she'd be able to handle any other ship patient that might fall ill with whatever cold seemed to be going around. Max was doing his best to disprove this assumption. He was being even more bull-headed than Felix had been about refusing to stay in bed. Luckily, she always knew where to find him. Sure enough, she walks into the ship's cargo bay, and finds him sulking about in there.]

Why is it so difficult for people that are sick on this ship to just stay in bed and rest?

Action

[theroadwarrior]

[He gives her a particularly petulant look, leaning against one of the walls near the shuttle with a blanket wrapped securely around him, eyes red-rimmed and nose a pink from being a sick little desert man. Clearly despite the sad look of him, he's determined to be as impossible as possible.

He huffs and looks away, less than enthused by the attempted conversation.

This is your crew, Wanda, enjoy.]

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[Wanda lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.]

An apology, at the very least, wouldn't hurt.

[theroadwarrior]

[Excuse me what.

Max squints, as if she spoke in some imaginary language.]

Apology for what?

action

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka does her best to keep track of where all her shipmates are in the Force. It's harder, now that most of her shipmates are non-Force-sensitives, rather than the beacons in the Force that are the Jedi. But she feels responsible for this crew, so she does her best.

So it doesn't pass her notice that Max's presence has been on the ship for more than a whole 24 hours at once, now. Which is... unusual, for him. It could be that he's just settling in more. Still, something in the Force compels her to go check on him.

When she finds him, she raises one eyebrow high.]

... Wow. What happened to you? You look awful. [She sniffs.] ... Smell it, too.

action

[theroadwarrior]

[He glares wearily at her from the sanctity of a heavy blanket, clearly unimpressed with her raised eyebrow. Isn't that his job, raising eyebrows? But it's true, he looks awful. He's jacket-free and red-nosed, hiding out just momentarily in the kitchen. Until someone comes along and tries to usher him back to his bed, which... judging by the tired slump of his whole self, he should really just get back into.

He's a stubborn mule though, and he'd rather sit and pretend he can eat something without getting nauseous.]

Got sick.

[SUCH A CLEARLY PAINTED PICTURE.]

[resnipstance]

Really.

[Said in a similar tone of voice to how one might also say "No shit."]

Well, I hope you're not counting on me to cook you anything. I'm terrible at it.

[That said, she does go and turn the kettle on.]

[theroadwarrior]

Mmm. No.

[He's not really interested in eating what someone else prepared, not unless he's watching over their shoulder. You know how he is. Instead he sniffs and tries to look around her from where he sits, as she goes to make tea.]

As long as what someone makes is edible, they can cook fine.

[HE EATS LIZARDS RAW, MAN.]

action.

[mucked]

[ -- why does she care?

it's a valid question. peggy, after all, doesn't always care. especially when to all proper observances, the man has plenty of allies of his own. she decides it's because he's part of her crew, and the old military blood can't be beaten out of her. they are comrades by lottery and random assignment, and that's enough for her. so -- well aware of his tendencies to wander -- she doesn't even bother checking his bed.

her heels click on the cargo bay floor as she crosses it. it takes some hunting, but she tracks him down as he sleeps in one of the shuttles. she doesn't try to wake him. instead, she leans in to deposit a steaming mug of tea within arm's reach.

there, she thinks, a cup of your own. ]

action. 1/2

[theroadwarrior]

[Max's in the middle of running in his head, when she comes in.

He runs and runs and runs, through brown corridors and around metal pipes.

'look out, we got a live one here, boys!'

His shoulder hits one of the heavy metal doors to throw it open —

Max jerks awake at the slight clack of the cup, blanket flipping off his shoulders.

If it makes her feel any better about him suddenly coming rather aggressively back to life where he sits, it's that he probably will look way more freaked out about it than she will; his eyes are wide, anxious, like a burned animal wanting to bite at the hand that burned them. One fist is ready for lashing out, clenched, but he is quick to stop himself because he looks at the enemy and it's —]

action.

[theroadwarrior]

[A cup of tea.

He freezes, hand still up for punching, and just stares at it like it's a plot twist and a half.]

action.

[mucked]

[ she doesn't seize up. she doesn't flinch -- and she doesn't flee. point of fact, her brow creases with otherwise unexpressed sympathy. the words shellshocked as good as dance around this man; she's intimately familiar with the burn in his eyes. soldier after soldier after soldier has been hollowed out by that slow-burning fire, leaving only bitter ashes behind. sometimes, she fears the fire in herself. loose ends of traumas left buried, sizzling back to life in her gut whenever some politician decides a celebration is worth fireworks.

peggy steps backwards. she gives him space. but she does not give him mollycoddling: ] Spill it, and you'll be sopping it up on hands and knees so the circuits don't fry.

[ an edged and steely voice. almost like a drill sergeant's -- but it's a mercy! deflection and escape disguised as disappointment. she'll not call his startled pain out for what it is. not aloud. ]

action.

[theroadwarrior]

[He wills his heart to relax, a soft sigh through his nose as he observes the small offering. He wonders if she knows he drank the last cup. She probably does. Every instinct he has is that it could be poisoned, could be dangerous — hearts change, people grow cold, he hardly knows her. But it's a thought he's willing to let slip away. Maybe stupid of him to do, but he's figures the odds aren't against him.

As he leans forward to accept the cup, the nape of his neck flashes the top half of a detailed burn scar — in the shape of flames, with a rounded skull in the middle. It's warm in his hands, and that's nice, even though he feels grimy and unwell. He's not as filthy as he used to be on the jungle planet a universe away. He actually bathes here. It's almost character development, to be quite honest.]

S'this all you drink? True Englishman.

[He knows the stereotypes, okay. Even if they're decayed and useless in the new world he lives in. Accents still survive, stories passed along where little remained in the way of books. Or rather, most use them for more practical things. Like burning for a decent fire. He glances at her, not exactly embarrassed or ashamed by the outburst of energy. It's too common for him, and people will get the idea eventually.

Not that he won't feel horribly guilty in the icy pit of his gut if he actually hit someone, succeeded in lashing out. But that's why he sleeps alone, at a distance. This stupid sickness has made him too easy to get the drop on when he fades off for hours at a time.

Which is a lot of sleep, lately. He's not sure how to handle how heavy his limbs feel.]

[mikangirl]

[Despite the lateness of this tag, Nami visits Max fairly early on in the piece. Once she'd warmed up and taken her shift at the bar (and indulged in delicious hot food, thanks Eugene) she was back out on the trail the next day. She was confident enough it hadn't snowed again over the morning, but the weather wouldn't hold forever.

Kind of... you know. Want to get her staff and his clothes and his brace before they get buried.

She finds her way down the cargo area on directions, carting an armful of gear. If he's awake, her heels will give her away before she ever gets there. Nami pls, it's winter outside. Get practical shoes.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He does snap awake, and he even has an idea of who it could be; there aren't a lot of people who wear heels. In fact, nobody does back home, so it stands to reason it may just very well be Nami. Who really needs to do something about her wardrobe, it's hardly battle-approved in his opinion. But you do you.

He abandons the shuttle for a brief moment to limp out of it, clearly favoring his better leg almost entirely, to the point where he's hopping. He may or may not have really banged it up, and it's kind of swollen. But he has Ino's medicines to try on it today, so. Don't judge him.]

Mm. You.

[... Hello, he means. Hello. Yes.

He notices the bundle she's carrying though, and his expression clears up into something almost kinda endearing, like he's genuinely caught off guard that she — someone who fished his dumb ass out of frozen water — would go back to get his things.]

[mikangirl]

Me. [Are we always gonna begin conversations this way, Max. Also excuse you, Nami can leap around rooftops in a freaking hurricane in high heels, she has mastered heel fu. But also lol shounen.]

I guess I brought this back to you at a good time. [Given the hopping and all. But she's already seen the look on his face, so her smile is less teasing than it could have been as she holds out the brace, his jacket and other assorted belongings still draped over an arm.] How're you feeling?

[theroadwarrior]

[Do you expect an honest, helpful answer? Because he just grumbles something under his breath and gives her a 'don't be nosy' sort of look. Even so, he can't exactly mask the flush of a mild fever on his face, or the redness of his nose. Or the way he hobbles on that aching knee.

And he does seem to loosen up on the closed-off thing, because when she offers him his things he takes them carefully. There's his jacket. He actually looks very pleased, slipping the revamped jacket on to join the raggedy bracelet, as it very well should.

SO FINE. YOU GET AN ANSWER. BEGRUDGINGLY.]

My knee hurts. But m'fine.

[See, it's an answer. He sniffles quietly, looking kind of tired on second glance, even though he feels like he's been sleeping more than he has in... well, a long-ass time. He's not gonna thank you for this, because he's a jerk, but he at least replaced your scarf. Give and take, you know.]

VISITING YEAH YEAH

[repths]

[Atoli was feeling really terrible about Max's situation. She felt that she had to do more for him somehow. Guess who's dropping by with some get well gifts? This girl is. In her hand is a tiny basket with some healthy food.]

You're Nami's friend right? My name's Atoli. I came to see how you were doing.

[Hopefully she isn't disturbing him! Atoli will just come back later if she came at a bad time!!]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max looks up form his huddled spot in the kitchen, where he's apparently decided to hide until someone else tries to shoo him back to his bed (which is getting to be a theme). The girl doesn't look familiar at all, but Max immediately realizes who's the culprit of this visit, when Nami's mentioned.

He gives her a long stare, brow furrowed.]

... Mmrr.

She put you up to this.

[That utter monster.]

[repths]

She said it was okay for me to come! [Yeah, you can totally blame all of this on Nami.]

I hope I'm not disturbing you? [Atoli sounds curious but there is a tinge of fear under her voice. She'll walk out the door ASAP if she's unwelcome.Woops.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He's legitimately about to say, flat-out, yes you are, I don't want company. But then of course if he's utterly rude to this kid, he can already imagine that annoyingly fiery redhead getting him a stink eye and kicking him in the shin. He sighs, burrowing himself down a bit into his blanket.]

It's fine.

Could get you sick, though.