My name is Max. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theroadwarrior) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2016-01-08 02:44 pm
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2016-01-08 02:44 pm
Entry tags:
action.
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.]
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Max is sick after falling into a frozen lake. He is insufferable about it.
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.]
Action
[In response, she shakes her head.] No. I just want to know your opinion, since you've been in this situation before, with other universes. He said at home he was ... 'building an army to secure his rights.'
[Hopefully she won't have to explain to Max why that's a problem for her.]
Action
Doubt the Atroma'll let them. They have the power here.
[He knows well enough... whoever brings them here is the strongest force of all.]
They any more specific?
Re: Action
Action
D'you have a blade on you yet?
Re: Action
Action
Then they must not like him. Or he put a curse on your ship. [He reaches into his the back of his waistband, putting a decent-sized knife with the blade sheathed in a simple leather container — built to conceal, shorter but better for quick jabs — and offering it to her hilt-first.] Should stay on you, though. It's stayed on me.
[At least then you'll have a decent shanking weapon.]
Action
Thanks. Here's hoping I won't need it.
Action
He's really sick of being sick.]
Hope not. If you need help using it, just, um. Let me know.
[He'll come help murder someone for ya'. He's great like that.]
He threaten anyone?
Action
[And she shouldn't take up too much more of Max's time; he looks like shit.]
Not yet. I'm going to keep an eye on him. [She looks at Max carefully.] You need me, you know where to reach me.
Action
[He looks after her as she prepares to go, but then he sits up a bit.]
Aaah, ah. The plant. [He stops, clears his throat gruffily.] It's important to you.
[What he's asking is, are you sure you wanna leave it with him?]
Action
[She pushes back from the counter in a move to leave, stopping to drop a hand on his shoulder.] So don't lose it.
1/2
2/3 nope
Don't lose it???? Shouldn't you be more worried about him killing it???
He stands up abruptly, using the seat to steady himself.]
Immmmdon't think that's a, a good —
[why are you still leaving WHY ARE YOU STILL LEAVING
COME BACK
FURIOSA PLEASE I DON'T WANT TO ACCIDENTALLY KILL YOUR PLANT]
no subject
....... Motherfucketyfucker.]