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[goodjob]

Who: Fiona Gallagher and you.
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: the Marsiva
When: 1/20

[The camera manages to catch Fiona waking up with an angry yelp before she stumbles furiously out of bed, and off screen. Something like a muffled scream can be heard, but not seen. She's gone for a fair amount of time before she returns to addresse the camera directly.]

[She looks tired, a breath away from haggard. Her voice is harsh.] I feel like my room's been downgraded. What are our coordinates? [She frowns, scratches the back of her neck.] Where are we? And... how long's it been since the fire?

[That out of the way, she relaxes and asks in a more conversational tone:] And has anybody got a smoke? I'm definitely not quitting now. [She rolls her eyes.]

Oh, and Adrien, you owe me a drink. [Muttered:] At least.

[Anyone who wants to find Fiona on the bridge of the Marsiva is welcome to do so! They can find her when she just woke up, when she went off screen to scream into a pillow, or after the message when she'll be spending her time inspecting everything, and trying to find some cigarettes.]

Comments

[feathery]

[...

......

.........]

What reports.

[Which is its own mixture of confusion and self-consciousness, because what the fuck did he even miss out on. Like sure, he got through Asgard more or less in one piece, but that sounds. Important.]

[goodjob]

Uh. [Uhhhh.] Don't worry about it, I'll figure it out when they give me my blackglass back.

What'd I miss in a year, huh? [It's not the smoothest transition, clearly trying to change the subject to keep him from... well, something. Excuse her if she's off her game.] Makes sense why your voice is different; you finally hit puberty.

[feathery]

[What the hell is a blackglass.]

Oh my god.

[Probably a good thing this isn't video (or maybe all the sadder), because he awkwardly covers his mouth.]

Jesus, I can't sound that different. [...] I think. [It's not like he has any way to tell.]

[goodjob]

Eh, a little bit. Sound like you could actually grow some facial hair. [Talking to kids is Calming, she knows how to do this.]

[feathery]

Oh, yup. In the last year, I been working on my acquisition of face fuzz. I'm rockin' enough now that I could line a whole nest with it and then some. You found me out.

[goodjob]

Yeah, women's intuition kicks ass again.

You never told me what you been up to in a year. What planets we been to? Anywhere nice? Looking to buy a summer home.

[feathery]

Planets. [He's semi stuck in Asgard mode, so Fiona immediately jumping to planets sounds kind of weird, but he guesses that makes sense. She might as well.] Uh, we been to a few. There was one with a fuckin' tree ocean that made you go crazy if you stayed out too late at night. Another one was nothing but actual oceans, replete with bug people and enough storms to trap a bird at sea for years. Then there was the salt wasteland and fuck that contaminated tundra with a molten prong.

We got stranded on the Marsiva for a little while, too, which I definitely wouldn't recommend for a summer home. Your options are looking grim.

[goodjob]

Yeah, 'bout that. What happened to the Neheda? It crash or some shit?

Those planets go okay? I know things were getting pretty rough before I... [She refuses to get all weepy about this.] Fucking aliens.

[feathery]

[The silence on his end lasts approximately three seconds too long.]

Wait, what.

[He's not even sure where to start dissecting this.]

[goodjob]

[Fiona isn't sure where to start. Does he just not want to discuss it on the network? Is something else going on? Paranoia was fashionable at the end of things.]

What part am I loosing you on, here?

[feathery]

What was going on before you got here. Like where were you.

[goodjob]

[She hesitates, sighs, kind of mentally preparing herself before she says it.] Macha. Remember the big planet with all the fucking trees?

[feathery]

[There's a long pause.]

I think you got the wrong Dave.

[But at least he feels obligated to elaborate a little.]

I've never been anywhere called Macha, unless Psychotics "R" Us underwent a rename. But at the very least I'd remember you being there and I don't, so. Must've been another guy.

[Fuck this, this isn't fair.]

[goodjob]

... What do you remember about me? ['The wrong Dave' means he has the wrong Fiona.]

[feathery]

[...] Do I just start listing facts.

[goodjob]

What's the last time we talked?

[feathery]

[Apparently when she forgot him, but LET'S JUST HANDWAVE IN SOMETHING ELSE AFTER THAT...]

Man, I don't know. When there was a mini invasion of flesh-eating scarabs maybe. Or when we got a second influx of alt dimension visitors. It's been a while.

[goodjob]

[They probably walked to work pretty often, don't question it bruh.] Yeah, but where were we?

[feathery]

Oh. Asgard.

[There's almost an audible eyeroll.]

Yeah, like the Nordic pantheon crap.

[goodjob]

Asgard. [She narrows her eyes, trying to think of why that sounds familiar.] Oh, Jesus! That was where I was before... and you had wings. And I worked with... fucking Harry Potter people. Right?

[feathery]

[Well, this is unexpected.]

Shit, yeah. With all the bullshit gods and powers and giants. Jesus, how long ago was that for you.

[goodjob]

A few months? Shit, at least half a year. I was there, and then... Those planets and shit I talked about. But you were there too, I remember. You had a cape.

[feathery]

[Oh god she's talking about real Dave, why this.]

Oh.

[A beat.]

So how huge of an asshole was I. [Because he was, inevitably, an asshole. He searched his feelings, he knows it to be true.]

[goodjob]

The normal amount. [Shrug. Everyone's an asshole at that age.] You don't remember it?

[feathery]

I wouldn't. Different Dave. We've got a surplus where I'm from.