driftfleet | A WORD FROM YOUR SPONSORS: TREAT YO' SELF (or don't)

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A WORD FROM YOUR SPONSORS: TREAT YO' SELF (or don't)

Who: Max Rockatansky
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Starstruck
When: Lately, idk. Today??

[The feed opens up rather oddly, but then, Max almost never posts anything. So that in of itself is weird. The video catches Max wandering back and forth in the cargo bay of the Starstruck — apparently working on some minor damages to one of the shuttles. Likely a piloting gig, considering how much he'd been out of the ship and making chips on the side. He looks like an oil monkey right about now, black grease on his forehead and a general unkempt-ness about him from his time without bothering to trim his hair at all, in any way. Who has time for that crap? Not Max.

He makes a confused sort of sound off the screen, and then stops in front of the table that the feed is streaming from with a... box? It appears to be a new arrival, a confusing thing that Max can't figure out the original delivery time on. The label on it, if you turn your head, appears to say:

TO: ~~MEATHEAD~~
~~BUTCHER~~
~~MR. SURVIVALIST~~
~~PILOT TWO~~
~~FOOL~~
~~POUTYLIPS~~

FROM: YOUR SPECIAL SPONSOR!

Max clicks the metallic locks on either side and with a HISSS, the box opens. What could be inside...?! Hell if he knows. He stares unimpressed at the giftbasket crammed full of... particular hygienic products. Shaving cream, razors, body spray, shampoos —]

[The name, of course, is actually just generic, changed just slightly from their Earth counterpart. XES is clearly more sensual than AXE. Not that Max is familiar with any of them anyway, but still. He continues his unimpressed stare as an electronic voice emits from said box. It kind of sounds like SIRI. Also something he is not familiar with.]

"Congratulations on your sponsor gift! Mysterious quiet type, what a sale! Here's a little something on behalf of sponsors watching; maybe a little self-maintenance is just the trick to make the lady viewers—"

[Max calmly shoves the box off the table, out of sight, with a great clatter.]

No.

[Can he get back to work now, that was a waste of his life he's not getting back. If you'll excuse him, he'll be going back to his next line of work: shoving non-perishable cans of food into one of the supply closets with the grim expression of a man who's Lumberjack Slam arrived to his table at Denny's cold. All while continuing — such a rebel — to smell like a sweaty human car engine.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ peggy elizabeth carter is a damned well-poised lady -- but when this broadcast begins, she can barely keep herself from speed-walking down the corridor from her quarters to the cargo bay. and there she stands, arms crossed and one shoulder leaning into the door-frame.

oh, blimey. but this is rich. ]

They're not wrong, you know. [ she looks a little too smug. ]

[Max, quite unlike his usual character, looks like a confused kid after being lectured for playing in mud.

Only its grease and oil today.]

Not wrong about what? I don't care about viewers.

[That was your point right.]

But you care about doing what needs to be done, don't you? [ surviving. ] I'm not fond of playing their rules. And when I can afford not to, I do my best to be the fly in their ointment. But viewers bring ratings. And ratings bring credits. Credits fund an awful lot of things.

[ like long term insubordination. ]

[He fetches a rag, begins to clean oil off his fingers as he wanders over with that signature slight hitch in his gait. Up closer, she might notice the rather colorful purple bruise on his cheek, the scabbed cut there. Someone's been having some issues with touchy-touch crew members is all.]

Can't let 'em control too much. You lose yourself.

[He shrugs, reaching up to fidget with the hair on his head between two fingers.]

... Could be worse. I didn't cut my hair or beard for years, 'til someone forced me.

Edited 2016-02-04 08:03 (UTC)

You needn't worry about me -- I'm not so easily controlled. [ but her tone is dry, as if she doesn't truly expect he's lost all that much sleep over her position in all of this. ] Neither am I so easily lost.

[ and that's a little like a warning not to shake off her advice -- or her concern. it'll be a lot like the grease he tries to clean off his skin, only to find it's merely been smudged to another patch of himself. she's tenacious.

peggy taps her cheek. ] What happened?

Edited 2016-02-05 12:03 (UTC)

[He rolls his eyes.]

New guy. He's, mmm... a pest. Got into a fistfight.

[Spoken as casually as the weather.]

Keeps invading personal space.

[Basically, he offers none of the common courtesy the others in the crew did. He doesn't give a damn if he's got some guys face to this idiot; he's getting chafed a bit about having to maneuver around him.]

[ the new guy. agent foster, she supposes. fdr hadn't exactly respected her personal space, either -- but such an invasion had come on the cusp of hypothesizing how closely their respective agencies might have been intertwined. as conversations went, that one had been spy-to-spy.

such commonality might make it easier for peggy to forgive him his trespasses, but she will not prevail upon max to do the same. instead: ] Little bit of a prat, isn't he?

[ she chooses to goad max into complaining alongside her rather than at her. ]

He's a smeg.

[SO UNIMPRESSED. He is not fond of your new agent fella. And then... Max looks like it hurts his head to say, but — with great disdain, he continues:]

He... hugged me.

[It was the worst, Peggy.]

I, mmm. I don't do well with...

[He gestures at nothing, trailing off.

He may have reacted like a guard dog scalded by hot water.]

[ -- well, that conjures a brief expression of puzzlement. indeed, one might even imagine peggy herself is scalded by the very notion. foster hadn't behaved quite so egregiously bad with her, barring an off-colour comment about pin-up girls.

but a hug? ]

Good heavens. [ give her a moment to react properly. ] He -- what?

[ yeah, ok, he's a smeg. whatever one of those is. ]

He thought — I was someone he knew. He grabbed me.

[He looks at the far wall, squinting, mouth twisting into his own brand of puzzled confusion. If there were a list of unspoken rules on the SS Starstruck, one likely included "don't touch the weird hobo man, especially not with hugs".]

I.... reacted.

[ silently, she resolves to have herself a little chat with fdr -- one she will not publicize to max, because she doesn't trust him to be capable of stomach such an indignity so near to the first. but she's first mate, now. she can't just let chaos reign. ]

As would anyone, I imagine. [ hell, she'd do much the same with very few exceptions. ] I take it he reacted back?

[ hence the bruise. ]

Mmm. Caught me off guard with one.

[Well, more like his hallucinations interrupted him, as they sometimes are horrid to do in the middle of a fight. He rebounded well enough to tackle him over the console, at least? He rubs a thumb across his cheek.]

... I cleaned up the blood in the bridge.

[Just so you know. So you're not pissy at him in case it comes up.]

-- Appreciated, certainly.

[ she won't make little of his gesture. nor, it seems, of his drive to bring it to her attention. such small steps are good steps, she thinks. and she won't interfere with whatever process he needs to make allies. if allies are even a thing he can still make. ]

I suppose we all get a bit squirrel-y when we're new. [ not exactly a free pass for fdr, but she hopes it might defuse some of the tension. ] About as squirrel-y as the rest of us get when strangers start sojourning inside our personal bubbles.

[ her attention narrows. ] Do tell me if his presence on the ship becomes unbearable. [ it's her duty to look after the well-being of this crew, after all. ] Nearly every ship is over capacity but -- if comes to it, we'll work something out.

[He hums an affirmative, smacking his lips once. He feels like all he does is talk. It can be draining sometimes. But then... not so long ago, he had gone months without using real words. So long he'd forgotten the sound of conversation.

Hmm.]

Can I hit him?

[Just... y'know. In case he punches him, he needs to know he's not going to get tossed somewhere. It's hard enough getting used to one crew, let alone a new one.]

Depends. [ she aims to ease the tension -- and perhaps buy herself some time to come up with protocol on the fly. ] How hard do you hit?

... Don't know.

Never stopped to ask the people I've hit.

[ she's almost -- almost -- tempted to invite him into a demonstration. she isn't maudlin and she doesn't like pain, but sometimes these are good things to know. on the off-chance that he could hit like steve could, she couldn't very well sanction his temper flaring whenever he liked. ]

But -- you do hit normally, yes? You're not superhuman or...or enhanced, are you?

[ a personal question. but it's pertinent to the conversation at hand, and so she presses her luck by asking it. after all, there are all sorts within the fleet. ]

[Snort.]

Maybe a little radioactive.

[............................ that was a joke.

Well, like, sort of.

Because he could be???

It's wasteland humor goddammit.]

[ -- the best man she'd ever known might be a little radioactive, depending on how many vitarays still bounced around steve rogers's system. gently: ] Radiation's been used to enhance people before. But...provided you're not fit to punch the man's face straight off his head? Then I don't see why you shouldn't react when provoked.

[ her advice isn't great advice. but that's peggy carter for you: she'd punch half of new york given the opportunity. ]

[Well, he's violently impaled a man in the throat repeatedly with a piece of his own car once, and he may have forced a man to either explode or saw his own leg off to get out of the handcuff holding him there. But they were child and mother murderers in both instances. He holds up his hands, same usual unnatural angle to some fingers that implies some trauma not too long ago.]

Can't punch heads off, no. Not worth the trouble anyway.

Too much blood to clean off the floor.

[Admittedly, this time it's even more vague on if he's joking or very serious about having to handle clean-up duty.]

[ not worth the trouble. her laughter is something of a hard snort, and so it seems she's taken it as a joke all the same. that, or she can't quite stomach the alternative. ]

Good to know. I might be about as human as they come, but I've had dealings with those who might be a little more than, at the cellular level. Keep that in mind whenever you swing your fists, won't you? Might not be such a dashing bruise, next time.

[ hah. ]

[He considers her words for a moment, then holds up his arm to show her the palm-sizes burn on his forearm.]

You mean it could be more like one of these?

[This is his battle damage from someone who certainly wasn't a normal human.]

Or worse. Which is to be expected out in the wild, I'm sure. [ ... ] But preferably not about this ship.

[ not wanting to get a bruise of her own, she resists the urge to reach for his forearm. instead, she lets her gaze focus right there. ] What happened?

[Max turns his forearm around to look at it thoughtfully, at the clear lines of fingers marring his flesh. It's not new, but not old. Still pink, raised, but not a pale white that old burns usually become. He focuses on the memory, which feels like not so long ago, and yet... It's been many months.]

From the world I was in, before this. Not home - a different ship, different universe.

Woman who wasn't human was mind-washed, ready to stop us from doing what we needed to avoid capture. Tried to stop her, shot her full of bullets... and then she broke my arm and leg. Mm. And did this.

[ she listens to his tale (however brief) with stoicism. quiet, careful attention. mind-washed, he calls it. and she's seen it in person: watched her office's chief get himself blown to pieces because of a soviet hypnotist. her teeth grind. ]

Such powers are truly awesome things. [ worthy of awe. ] But I wonder, sometimes, about how much trust it takes to grow close to anyone with such capabilities.

[ although she trusts steve with her life, and the lives of millions -- peggy gives her head a rough shake. ]

Did you stop her in the end?

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