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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

[goodjob]

[Fiona looks up absolutely horrified, like she was just caught doing something utterly shameful. For once, she's at a loss for words, and she kind of gapes at him. It takes some effort, but she forces herself past the embarrassment and focuses on the present. Looks at the cigarette and back at him, and remembers the request she put out on the network. Jesus.]

[What a nice guy?]

[She doesn't deserve to be around people like this. Or, really, they don't deserve to be around people like her.]

Thanks. Uh- but do you got a lighter?

[heavenonearth]

Of course.

[ he'd be lost without one. he's pulling out a second cigarette as he speaks, then the plastic lighter after, nestled right into the pack beside two neatly rolled joints. popping the second cigarette into his mouth, he offers the lighter to her first. ]

Knock yourself out.

[goodjob]

You're a fucking angel. [She lights up, nice and slow, savoring the taste.] You know how long it's been since I've seen cigarettes with English on 'em? Fuck, with words? [She's smiling to herself, already doing better by leaps and bounds. Sheer force of will and emotional suppression will do that to you.]

[heavenonearth]

[ girl, you have no idea how apt that pet name is. or used to be. either way, it gets a half-derisive snort out of him while he snags the lighter back to light up his own, dragging deep. ]

You're very welcome. [ he says around an easy grin, exhaling through his nose and tucking the pack neatly into his back pocket again. ] Had a rough time of it?

[goodjob]

[She blows a poorly formed ring of smoke, letting it crash against the stainless window of the Marsiva, and considers her options. She could lie, but it's too late. Even if she hides it from him, other people know. There's no point. Things get out.]

[She looks over to him with a sweet smile that doesn't reach her eyes. There's anger and something else mixed in her voice, probably disappointment,] I died. Fucking aliens set me on fire. [She takes another drag.] What about you? You new too?

[heavenonearth]

[ if she'd kept it to herself he surely wouldn't have blamed her; cas is right there in the boat with her on that one. talking about home? not a great time. but she tells him anyway, and there's a fleeting, appreciative softness in his eyes. ]

Sorry to hear it. [ well and truly. but she steers the conversation on, and he respects that. ] But yep, just woke up here a few hours ago. It's a little creepy, but hey, the food's good.

[goodjob]

[Her knight in shining marlboros handled that far better than anyone ought to have, and Fiona feels the familiar weight of guilt settling in her stomach. He didn't deserve that.] I haven't even looked at the food yet. Where is it?

[She's not interested in eating. She's trying to remember how to be kind. Hunting through pantries will be a nice distraction from her existential angst.]

[heavenonearth]

[ to be honest, he's really used to existing around jerks. it's kind of a gift. it all rolls off his back like water off a duck, and hey, he's not always the nicest guy either. but the cafeteria's always a good distraction, so he nods, gesturing fluidly with one shoulder while taking a long drag. ]

Right this way.

[goodjob]

[Fiona follows, doing her best to make the cigarette last. She focuses on the comforting familiarity-- she's even smoked in space before-- and uses it to forcefully calm herself down. This is a nice guy. He doesn't deserve her frustration and anger.]

So, you're new, too?

[heavenonearth]

[ thankfully, it's not exactly a long walk, even if it's one of the only two rooms off down its own corridor. slipping his thumbs into his belt loops, he ambles along toward it, clearly in no rush. ]

Sure am. Woke up here a few hours ago.

[goodjob]

You seem to be handling it pretty well. [She follows behind, staring out the windows into the vastness of space.]

[heavenonearth]

Heh. It was pretty disconcerting at first, but yeah.. I suppose I am. I don't really have much to go back to, so, I figure it's best to just put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward.

[ even if he's definitely not even close to inebriated enough for this shit. ]

[goodjob]

Huh. You been to space before? [Most people have. She's come to think of Earth as comparitively backward, which, considering what she's seen of it, fits the bill pretty well.]

[heavenonearth]

Yep. [ in a manner of speaking. but that's a can of worms he's alright leaving behind, for now. ] Though I haven't really seen it for awhile. [ it's excuse enough to move his eyes toward the window, appreciatively, but hesitantly. mixed feelings are mixed.

but hey look, they're coming up on the cafeteria now. ]

Sounds like something you're accustomed to. [ you know, aliens setting you on fire and all. ]

[goodjob]

Ohhh. Were you an astronaut? [From her tone of voice, she doesn't seem to think he was an astronaut.]

My last job was in space. Hope they give good pensions.

[heavenonearth]

Not quite. [ though i mean, yeah, sure, strictly following the etymology of the word, he's an astronaut - but he's not going to play with semantics. not right now, at least. his brow furrows while he steps into the cafeteria. ]

What's a pension? [ he kind of got into the human game a little late. ]

[goodjob]

So you were just a little bit an astronaut. [Trust Fiona to aggressively stick her nose where it doesn't belong.]

[She takes this question in stride, having spent a fair amount of time over the past few months with various flavors of aliens and cross-dimensional freakshows.] It's back-pay to make sure the surviving family's taken care of, mostly.

[heavenonearth]

Something like that. But hey, that's pretty convenient I suppose.

[ making light of death a little, maybe.. but what else can you do. the little nudge about family, though, is enough to make his chest tighten, and castiel lifts his hand for another drag. he doesn't know this girl, but if she's left family behind.. that's a real shame. ]

Anyway, here we are. Bon appetit.

[goodjob]

Or you can just keep being vague, I bet all the girls love that. [Fiona, be nice.]

[But being nice is hard.]

[Still, she appreciates him dropping the subject of pensions and death so quickly. She has to find a way to pay him back that doesn't involve social contact, so she won't keep adding to her debt. She opens up one of the pantries.] You know how to cook?

[That would be a way to pay him back.]

[heavenonearth]

[ she's a pistol, isn't she? reminds him of someone. cas can't help but grin. ]

All right, all right, you really want to know? I'm an angel. Or, I was, a couple years ago. Not so much anymore, but, you know, spent a few billion years cruising the cosmos before I lost my mojo.

[ s h r u g ]

And no, I'm a terrible cook. Not among my talents.

[goodjob]

[Once, Fiona would have doubted him. Once, more recently, she would have believed him. After dying, she's somewhere in the middle. She's not going to believe or disbelieve until she has more information.]

Huh. Which angel?

[She begins to sift through the supplies.] Well, this is original. [But she thinks she can make do.] You got any requests?

[heavenonearth]

[ while she's rifling through food supplies, cas gets comfortable, leaning his elbows onto the counter and watching with idle curiosity. ]

Surprise me. I haven't exactly had many, uh, home cooked meals, so. [ canned food. canned food forever. he rakes his free hand back through his messy hair, looking thoughtful. ]

Castiel, angel of Thursday. Not very exciting. You can call me Cas.

[ castiel.. that name doesn't suit him anymore, makes him itchy. ]

[goodjob]

[She turns her head to stare at him, eyes narrowed.] Oh, God. You're a Protestant angel. [Fiona, that's not- oh, whatever. The thought makes her laugh, but it's unclear if that means she finds the situation humorous. She shakes her head and gets back to sifting through the supplies.]

I guess most chefs go to hell. [Shrug. She starts mixing various pastes and bars together into the vague shape of food.] Anyway, I'm Fiona.

[heavenonearth]

[ well that certainly earns a nice, deep brow furrow. he tilts his head thoughtfully. ]

We aren't affiliated with any religion in particular.

[ you catholics and protestants and jews can all duke it out however you want.. cas isn't terribly fond of organized religion. it's got its upsides, but it's sure got its downsides too, so it's not something he's ever been particularly interested in. ]

But hey, it's nice to meet you in any case, Fiona.

[goodjob]

[She laughs, a little self-deprecating.] Sorry. My dad was big into the Catholic thing when I was little, and there're only four angels in the bible, so... [She shrugs her shoulders.] Don't worry, I'll clap my hands and believe in you either way.

[Fiona, that's Peter Pan.]

Pleasure's mine. You're the nicest angel I've met today.