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)
driftfleet2016-02-03 03:13 am
theroadwarrior) wrote in driftfleet2016-02-03 03:13 am
Entry tags:
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.]
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:
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.]
action
Life's not fair.
[............ He glances at her head. Like, the hop of it.]
You don't need the shampoo.
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Trying to make him pleasant to be around?
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Trade is trade, no matter how much hair they have.
[Sorry, Max is hardly one to bend for hair products.]
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1/2
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Entertainment takes up too much time.
[Says the person who hasn't actually had entertainment since... forever.]
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[She looks at him skeptically.]
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Repairing the shuttle. I'm going out to work more jobs.
[This is literally what he's been doing the whole time he's been here.]
Currency is — crucial, if something goes, ahm, wrong.
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Was transporting some goods, thieves tried to take what isn't theirs. It should be running smoothly again; replaced a panel.
[Hmm.]
Never such a place without some kind of danger.
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I work fine on my own.
[As he always has. It does nobody any good, to get used to helping each other. Or that's at least the kind of logic he tries to keep using. Poorly. Does he enjoy the silence? Is it because he isn't sure how to be that person?
He's still figuring it out.
Every time he considers such things for too long, the ghosts come out more than usual to play.]
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... Fine.
[It's said with no small amount of sulk, though.]
1/2
omg stop pouting]
2/3
SIGH.]
3/3
He reaches into his jacket pocket, then offers her a folded paper. Unfolding it shows a location and what appears to be an inventory.]
I'm scheduled to — aahm. Work this job. It's a quick one, reliable person I've done some work for before, but it pays... well enough. You'll have enough for this and plenty more than that. If you want to take it.
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I have plenty of jobs. The repairs are almost done.
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Okay. Deal.
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[He reaches out to plop the paper helpfully into her hand with his palm. Surprisingly, the first time he's actually initiated genuine contact with her. He shrugs, and while he's, as always, not quite the most social or friendly looking creature, he actually seems to be in a — relatively good place today. Friendly, almost. If you squint.
Whether he realizes it or not is another question entirely, though.]
Then I'll save some bottles.
1/2 (out damn space)
Wait, really?
Thank you!
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1/4
2/4
3/4
4/4
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