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.]
pretend i wrote 'prison's up there yup
We're not in real cages. We're fed. We can sleep comfortably. Arm ourselves over time.
We have room to figure it out.
roger roger!!
[ she grabs a seat next to the pilot. if they're going to the planet, she wants a comfortable ride. ideally, she'd like to fetch a jacket or perhaps some boots. but she fears leaving him alone with the shuttle. ]
But a cage that requires a long-term approach is still a cage. [ even if it gives her everything she'd thought she'd always wanted. old comrades; steve; respect that isn't won by climbing twice as strenuously as any man. ]
It being comfortable shouldn't cloud our choice of words.
no subject
Say what you want; just not a cage to me. It's a leash.
[He seems fairly confident of that. But then, he's been locked down in a cage barely big enough for him to fit in for many weeks. He's not about to say 'cage' is his word for this place, even if others use it.]
There's a big difference.
no subject
so, instead, she nods. ] Also an apt word.
no subject
Could agree on another term being 'pain in the ass'.
[the most serious face at the recommendation]
no subject
[ peggy carter might be (to some extent) kind, but she isn't shy. and pulls no punches. ]
no subject
... To which that means yes, yes she's right, but he's not going to say that.]
no subject
Don't worry, big guy. Your secret's safe with me.
[ someday, she'll run out of silly things to call him. and on that day she might have to ask his name. ]