Chocolate-flavored Dessert Cream on the House

[thespaceopera]

[The bunks are filling up, but the new faces just keep appearing!

Are you a travel-weary passenger having trouble keeping your crew roster straight? Perhaps you are a fresh new recruit, finding themselves dumped into a new (and much less shiny) home. Or, maybe you've been around for a little bit and just haven't bothered meeting the other weirdos on this ship yet--what is their problem, anyway?

Well, this is the place for you!

All new passengers from the last few Shuffles, especially those who haven't met their crews yet, are welcome to post starter-comments here to invite those living on and visiting your ship to come and interact. Newbies could be just arriving on the ship, busying around where others can find them, or you can offering multiple options for interaction--however you'd like to set up your thread is fine. Just make sure to include the name of your ship in the header, so your crewmates can easily find you!

Everyone else-- go meet those newbies! Whether they are new to your own crew, or on ships you frequently visit, now is a great time to bump into them.]

Comments

[bigvessel]

Great, thanks. Um...at ease, though. [Because she looks every part the alert soldier and it's a little distracting if only because it makes him feel like this is more a mission than a casual conversation. Maybe it should be.

And he has no problems taking the lead on the discussion. It's something he's had plenty of practice at.]

Well, just an assumption that you're as much captive as me, right? [Before he ends up giving too much away with his questions, alliance might be worth noting.]

[mucked]

[ she raises a brow. somewhere caught between i am at ease, you prat and the infinite patience of a woman who has cultivated a great deal of tolerance over a short career. good posture and a professional demeanor won't be so easily chipped away in front of a stranger. ]

It's an understandable question. Completely natural. I can assure you that I arrived much as you did, but the best proof I can offer -- [ she turns her head and cards fingers through her hair, raising the crafted curls up until she reveals the back of her neck. there, just behind her left ear, is the tell-tale bump. ] My augment. I've gone one, just like you do.

[bigvessel]

[Alright, alright. He matches that brow with his own apologetic one. If this is the persona she's going for, prim and proper, he's not going to complain. He knows that game well enough.]

Proof. [The word is barely falling off his lips when she's exposing that bump behind her ear.] What the hell... [and immediately his hand is reaching back behind his own. And for just a brief moment, pure unadulterated rage flashes over his features, before it softens into a casual scowl.] And here I was thinking probes were the worst part of an alien abduction.

So...That's how...that's how I know what all of this is. [And there's a broad gesture toward the navigation.] Great. And if they're willing to let me know how to fly the ship then they're pretty confident I'm not going to be able to just drive away, right?

[mucked]

The augment giveth and taketh away. [ she lets her hair fall back into place, giving her shoulders a slight roll. ] Whatever advantages it provides by way of piloting skill or technological know-how, it also leashes us to these ships. Wander too far, and they have a means of popping you back to where they want you to be. The Atroma, that is.

[ she tilts her head. ] Have you got any sense of what yours might be? Each augment centres around a particular skill. Mine's associated with the communications capabilities of the fleet.

[bigvessel]

Yeah, and if you take the ship with you? Same thing? [Yeah, he can't be the first one with the plan to hijack the ship, so he assumes it won't work, but hell, he's gotta ask anyway.]

Uh. All this. It's...familiar somehow. I mean-I was a captain-a cruise ship captain back home, but not exactly...the same. [That was smooth right? And he rubs at his cheek before pointedly walking over to the panel and tapping at it.] So, is that what you did back home? Did you work military comms? [Yeah, you've got a vibe, Peggy.]

[mucked]

[ she nods -- on both counts. ]

Second World War. I take it that actually happened in your version of the world? [ she asks the question as casually as she can -- but it's hard not to be burning curious about all the differences found between one universe and the next. even within her own allies, she's found contrasting circumstances.

in any case, she's dispensed with the old lie that she works for the phone company. having been here long enough, some truths are simply easier to tell. but then again, he's the one who'd supplied her with the easy answer. military communications, not spycraft. so she keeps it to herself. ]

But I dare say you'll find a cruising ship to be a far sight more complex than these vessels. They're practically on auto-pilot so long as we're drifting alongside the fleet.

[bigvessel]

Second-holy crap you really are a pin-up girl. I mean...you definitely have the forties look going. [And he's just going to tap casually at different buttons while he tries to oh so subtly work his mind around the fact that the woman is from seventy years in his past.

In the end it's just easier to accept it. He's had a weird enough day, what's one more thing tacked on.]

Yeah. Yeah that happened. So, what was it like? Man, I mean, wow you were there for William Donovan. The birth of the Office of Strategic Service. The future of the CIA. I mean that's just-[Something he should probably not be this excited about. So he clears his throat.] Kind of a history buff. Sorry. [And right into the next topic of conversation.]

Auto-pilot. Yeah, that's...good. [Especially because he has absolutely no practical experience with driving a ship. Though a part of him is itching to try.]

[mucked]

[ -- bewildering. peggy's not quite sure what to do with him. at first blush, it might even appear as though her stilted reaction is mere insult in the wake of being called a pin-up girl. and, certainly, it had begun in much that vein. blustery and indignant, she'd been prepared to give him a good verbal hiding for his trouble. but then...

but then he mentions something called the office of strategic service, and the words simply burn in her mind. perhaps it's a mere coincidence, but she can't shake her instincts. not least of all because fdr is quick to backpedal. why? perhaps he's a little more interesting than she first imagined. ]

Nothing wrong with a healthy interest in your nation's past. But I'm afraid I don't know anything about any Office of Strategic Service. [ ... ] Sorry.

[ now, the 'strategic scientific reserve' on the other hand... ]

[bigvessel]

[Well, that's certainly a telling look that he catches from under his lashes. Though, it's true, he's not sure if she's pissed about the pin-up girl comment which he realizes is probably a modern day equivalent to porn a moment too late, or if he's caught her attention with something he just said.]

Oh well. I mean...they even joined up with the Joint Chiefs of Staff. But I guess...that probably wouldn't be common knowledge at that point. But it's just, kind of cool you know? Taking lawyers and historians and bankers and actors, and just creating a secret intelligence service. He even had baseball players. It's kind of awe inspiring, right? [So he can't help but be a little disappointed not to get a first hand account. But, it makes sense.] What about the CIA? Does that mean anything to you? 1947?

[mucked]

Doesn't ring any bells. [ but she can take a wild guess at what the acronym stands for. still, a kind of clarity steals across her thoughts: the o.s.s. gives way to something called the cia. and the s.s.r. grew into shield.

oh, what the hell. they're crewmates, now. with a shrewed look: ] What about the Strategic Scientific Reserve, hm?

[bigvessel]

[His head tilts at the question, but he's quiet for a moment, like he's mentally flipping through all of his historical footnotes before he answers.]

No. But it kind of sounds like the name of an R&D department for the O.S.S.. [And he's definitely curious as he turns to face her again, arms crossed over his chest and gaze intense.] Was it?

[mucked]

[ softly: ] Not -- not quite.

[ goodness, but she's letting the conversation get quite out of hand. he's a fresh arrival on their little boat, and she's using his world to inform her own. nothing about it is particularly courteous. but then again, peggy carter never was ladylike to the core.

they arrive at an impasse. where peggy understands she cannot divulge just anything to a stranger -- but she's beginning to suspect he's a little more than cruise ship captain. but if what he speaks of truly is history, then this could all be declassified by his time. ugh, it frustrates her. her nose scrunches. ]

I've got a hunch. I don't half-doubt the O.S.S. is the S.S.R. But by another name -- in another universe. You'll come to learn quickly, I'm afraid, that such differences aren't uncommon within the fleet.

[bigvessel]

[Other universes. Yeah, he's seen those cartoons as a kid. And well, if she's from decades in the past, butterfly effect, etc. etc. Sure. He'll buy it. But if the SSR is the equivalent of the OSS then there's a pretty good chance...

He glances around like he expects to see some of these cameras they supposedly have trained on them before he steps closer to her, invading her personal space before he drops his head slightly, like he's avoiding any lip readings.]

And are you part of the SSR? More than just a communications officer in charge of swapping lines and answering walkie-talkies, aren't you?

[mucked]

[ oh, she doesn't like that. peggy's personal space is sacrosanct -- and yet she tolerates his approach, because she's just as unwilling to let the atroma get a perfectly framed shot of this exchange. after today, they'll have to be more coy in their conversation.

but for now, she whispers in return: ] That rather depends upon who you ask, but -- [ a curt nod. ] Agent Carter, SSR. And am I to assume you're with the OSS's descendant? You called it...CIA.

[ it's refreshing to meet someone who doesn't immediately assume she must fetch the coffee and answer the phones. perhaps that's what makes her behave so indulgently. ]

[bigvessel]

[Its a future where he has fellow female CIA agents. Where his boss is a strong woman that actually terrifies him and cows him like nobody else can do. So women with authority and skill is kind of common.]

That's right. Agent Foster, at your service. [And since this feels like a more proper definition he holds his hand out to her again with a grin. He won't even pretend he's not pleased to be here with a fellow agent. Even if it's one from an alternate universe.

But wow that undercover thing didn't last very long. But he figures if anyone can not blow his cover to the rest of the crew it'd be another agent.

[mucked]

[ fdr foster. how good it is to have a full name. feeling complicit, she indulges him in his second handshake -- this one firmer, and with more purpose than the first. whatever issues the s.s.r. might present, she can respect most of its agents. she imagines the same must be assumed for the o.s.s. ]

Very few in the Fleet are aware that I do anything but work for the phone company, Foster. I would appreciate it if it stayed that way, for the time being.

[ and implied in her expression is a measure of reciprocity. ] And if anyone asks, you're the very first cruise ship captain I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.

[bigvessel]

Of course. [And an easy smile accompanies the statement. They're definitely on the same page about this one, but if they're both what they're secretly claiming to be, then of course they are.

That dealt with, he takes a step back out of her space and slides his arms behind his head.] So, know where a guy can get a gun?

[mucked]

Aha. That'll be a sight trickier, I'm afraid. The Atroma doesn't much care for us arming ourselves. [ she relaxes a bit within her reclaimed space. loose fists perched on hips. ] Weapons are for sale at quite a few of our stops, but they'll cost you credits.

[bigvessel]

I'm sure that doesn't stop creative people. [Same could be said for needing credits, but, maybe stealing firearms isn't the best start to all of this.] Alright. So, how do you procure credits?

[mucked]

They're earned over time. And by entertaining our captors. [ there is venom in her voice; a particular bite that abhors this fact of their captivity. ] The more watchable you are, the better your salary.

[bigvessel]

That so? [He can hear the anger in Peggy's voice. But he doesn't have the same qualms. He spends his whole life performing in one way or another. And he's used to having someone in his eye and in his ear. If it's what he has to do to make his time tolerable...well.] How well do you do? I imagine you have plenty of fans.

[mucked]

-- I'm not certain it's all that gentlemanly to ask a woman how dramatic her life gets. [ but she can't be all that offended, because peggy smiles. ] I do alright for myself, and that's without any viewer-pleasing hysterics. Honestly, you mightn't be able to afford a side-arm straight off the bat but...give it until the next planet or station.

[ she supposes she could lend him the credits but -- she's not certain she trusts him that much. ]

[bigvessel]

A gentleman? Well, if that's really how you want me to behave around you, I can give a shot. [And he returns that smile with one of his own.

And because he can totally be theatrical in the moment, he puts his hand up to his chest.]

Oh, my dear, Lady Carter. Prithee, tell me when is the next planet or station? [And he's not even going to try to hold a straight face when he's done.] How'm I doing?

[mucked]

[ for all his trouble, he nearly gets a smile. but it's hidden beneath a cutting glance and a roll of her eyes. ]

Needs polish, frankly. [ huff. ] But the serious answer is that we're currently just outside a bustling little spot called Starlight. A space station. Weapons are damned expensive, but if you work yourself to the bone before we leave you might just find enough odd jobs down in the station to get yourself a modest pistol.

[bigvessel]

Was it the prithee? Overkill, right?

[But there's an answer and he listens to her with a nod. Working to the bone isn't exactly the most appealing idea, but neither is riding around in unknown space in a ship full of people he doesn't know without some sort of protection.] Alright, I'll look into it, thanks.