driftfleet | Red Fish assemble!

→ various places around the ship

[the quieter of the two captains has been an even more scarce presence around here, lately. most of his time is spent off the ship, and he slinks right to his room or the laboratory when he does come home--with occasional stops by the kitchen for a quick bite, or the cargo bay to run a round of violent practice on the punching bag there.

he's a busy little shadow, silent and focused as he moves between whatever tasks he has plotted out for himself... and really hasn't been paying much attention to his crewmates. especially the newer ones. it might take a bit of patience to track him down, or luck to cross paths, but he's there.]

→ kitchen

[and even he has to stop and actually chill out, eventually. he doesn't want to, of course, but one can only get so many things accomplished when one's single remaining eye is almost swollen shut.

there are other bruises, but the one beneath his eye is the one that he's pressing a wet cloth to, while slumped unhappily at the kitchen table. most of the world is a blindspot to him right now, which is unnerving, but there isn't a whole lot he can do about it at the moment.

he'll just try to keep his ears open for an approach, and impatiently wait for the swelling to go down.]

[ It's been a few weeks since Winter has heard from Coil, (mostly due to his own forgetfulness) and he decides to stop by and see if he's even around. After searching through the cargo bay, he goes to search the remainder of the Red Fish. Thankfully, he doesn't have to look far. He peers into the kitchen and spots the poor kid icing his eye. He taps his metal fingers against the doorway before stepping inside.

His own face has its own litany of bruises (also his fault) in various stages of healing. Being a super soldier, though, means they heal pretty fast. Much to the dismay of his competitors in the fighting rings he's been frequenting. Either way, he gives Coil a small smile, waving a hand at him. ]

[Well she generally walks quietly, but he might pick up her footsteps. She leans in the door way, watching him for a moment.

Then she sighs and moves to the table, putting her hands on the edge to lean over just a little while looking at him.]

You should let me heal it.

[the tapping sounds have him straightening up and peering over the cloth. he still can't help the squint of his eye, but he can at least see through it. and since he can't exactly widen his eye, he relies on his brow raising to convey the surprise of seeing Winter there, on his own ship.

and the smile is perhaps even more startling. it looks strange on the soldier's face, to him--but his own expression lightens in response. he never goes as far as actually smiling, but the sentiment is there.

he's caught off guard and a little uneasy, not knowing why the man is here, but he's glad to see him anyway.]

[it's probably the exhaustion that keeps him from noticing her approach until she's right nearby, and it's that same weariness that keeps him from startling too noticeably when he does.

he's on edge when he first squints fast up and over the cloth, but calms down again once he sees who it is.

and he just shakes his head at the offer. as usual.]

Coil.

[Her tone is softly disapproving.]

You can barely see. Just let me fix it.

[She gently tries to pull the hand with the cloth away from his face.]

[after a moment of halfhearted defiance, he lets her pull his hand away.

not before signing a sharp 'fine,' however. it's a good, expressive sign--one that could have been taken as something offensive without knowing the meaning behind it.]

[Sorry Coil, you lose. Zhas showed her 'fine' already.

She gets to see his swollen eye and, putting a hand on his cheek, gives it a good look first, careful not to touch it.]

I need to remember not to go for your face. Get lost in the moment and then you're bumping into walls.

[She knows she's not his only sparring partner, but she's saying it anyway. She doesn't know how rough any of the others are, but she knows how she and Coil prefer to fight, and she's got bruises of her own still. Just not ones on her face. This time.]

['face is fine,' he signs. 'but not eye.'

he only has one of those left, so he'd really prefer to keep it in functioning order.]

Your eye is part of your face, smart ass.

[If she were a more confidant type (she might project confidence, but alas it is a projection) she might pick on him and "kiss" his eye better. She could do that. But he's lucky she's not that comfortable with casual touching, and even less with kissing.

So instead, she just does the usual minor heal spell while her hand rests on his face. His eye will slowly, but visibly reverse the swelling.]

There, see. All done. Don't be such a baby.

[Okay but she can tease him verbally.]

[Post the 22nd, the Red Fish will get an occasional visitor to the ship to check on Mr Comatose Space-Orgy guy. She's not one to lurk and wring her hands, and she figures Sam's brother will be there a lot more so she's not gonna crowd him, either.

If anyone can tell her why Sam is intent on sleeping for days on end, she'd be grateful as hell. But in the meantime, checking up on him and resisting the urge to paint his nails it is. It's not hard to resist, really. She's too worried.

...the decor really doesn't help, what the hell.]

[ Smiling is still something that he's working on doing more, though he still can't help but think of it as a weakness. It's mostly the programming still kicking around in his brain. Blank faces aren't easy to read or to distinguish in a crowd. But that's not what this visit is about.

Winter's been meaning to run into Coil, but it hasn't happened yet. He just wants to check in and see if he's alright- especially since the last time he saw him, they were on the Heron. ]

Is it okay that I'm here?

[despite his leeriness, he's quick to nod. he finally puts the cloth down, so he can form the sign for 'captain' and then awkwardly point to himself.

he's far from comfortable with the title, but it means (at least in his mind) that he can do whatever he wants. so, of course it's okay that Winter is there.]

[ Ah. He didn't know that Coil was the captain, though he hadn't thought to check the roster and see.. Oh well. Winter nods in understanding, stepping into the kitchen, but he keeps a respectable distance between them.

Are you alright? He signs, though he's uncertain whether that's worse with Coil's eye the way that it is. ]

Edited 2016-02-24 02:20 (UTC)

You look like hell.

[The voice comes out of nowhere, from a few yards behind him. There were no footsteps leading up to it, thanks to the thud of fists against canvas and her own quiet steps, but at least the voice is familiar enough. Natasha stands her ground, stance ready in case he decides to take the comment as a challenge. Really, it's an observation, and maybe even (if you squint your eyes and listen hard) an expression of concern. She knows what pushing yourself too hard looks like.]

[he nods in that short and very sure way that clearly means 'of course I am.'

why wouldn't he be? he's only covered in the signs of weeks of pushing himself well past what could possibly be considered healthy, as far as casual violence goes. that's all.]

[she doesn't taunt him with kissing, and he doesn't karate chop her in the throat. it works out for everyone, really!

as it is, he's already glad that Zhas isn't there to see this. as much as the skullfaced man had complained about magic in general, that's how Coil tends to feel about energies that aren't his own. so, the spell combined with the touch on his face has his skin absolutely crawling.

the very moment that it's all over with, he leans away just that extra inch. and he rolls his eye at the comment--so maturely.]

[even if he hadn't been wailing on the punching bag with as much enthusiasm as he was, there's a good chance he would have missed her approach anyway. he's not exactly at the peak of alertness right now.

and along that same vein, he doesn't whirl toward her with the same sharp energy he would have normally had. he's beyond tired, and it sure is showing now. he has to turn all the way around to bring her into the view of his one bashed-up eye.

'thanks,' he signs, managing to make the gesture shine with sarcasm.]

[She let's her hand drop, not even a little offended.

She makes the sign for 'hungry?'], because she worries that he doesn't eat enough. He's not great at taking actual care of himself.]

[Asuka's taken to hanging around the kitchen, though she barely eats anything. She'll drink green tea, sometimes, but that's the extent of it. Hardly needing food means none of it's particularly appealing, especially when it's roughly the same processed fare she's accustomed to from home. Strangely, she's even in the kitchen at odd hours of the night, still in that same red plugsuit, arms folded. Her eyes might be closed, but she's not asleep. Ever.]

[But she's not one to haunt the ship in complete silence. Instead, she can be found with a sewing needle and a spool of bright red thread, fixing the punching bag that she'd torn almost to pieces upon her first arrival. Unfortunately, while she'd long since adapted to having only one useful eye in combat, sewing's an entirely different matter, and every time she has to rethread the needle, a few German curse words come out from behind gritted teeth as she tries to will the thread through the needle's eye.]

Edited 2016-03-01 05:28 (UTC)

[The punching bag is probably the most used piece of communal property on the Red Fish, quite honestly. It's always been a ship full of violent people who need an outlet, and it's meant to be that outlet.

So seeing it in disrepair is not really that surprising, when she walks into the cargo. She walks over to her new crewmate who is obviously struggling with her task. The language might be foreign, but swearing is pretty universal in tone and delivery.]

Need a hand?

[Syeira doesn't sleep well most nights, so the fact that she's up at all hours when all decent people on board are sleeping, is not actually new. But usually, aside from looking tired, she retains an at least postive attitude.

But since the last shuffle, she's been down. It's hard to lose people you care about. She'd done really well considering. First Hawke, then Ladon, then half her crew including Zhas, the person she'd have easily considered her best friend. Then Adra vanished and she'd set her own feelings of loss aside to take care of Belthazar. But now with Anders' sudden disappearance, it's just too much. She looks as miserable as anyone might, and she spends time in her usual places, the kitchen and the cargo hold where she might take tiny naps.

Basically, wherever you find her, she looks ready to pass out, or is already half asleep.]

[Asuka inclines her head in a brief, terse nod, handing over the needle and thread silently. She doesn't like asking for help, and she likes taking it even less. But she's been trying to rethread the needle for at least ten minutes, and her pride's endured worse insults.]

I haven't sewn since I was a child.

[yeah, he sucks at that and he knows it. he probably wouldn't bother with making any effort at all, if he didn't know that he can't work if he doesn't at least eat and get some sleep.

so, he shrugs. which isn't a no.]

[hello there, fellow one-eyed warchild.

Coil had seen the girl around, observed her from a distance when they happened to be in the same space, but hadn't bothered to approach--or even directly acknowledge her existence--until now. because, if you mess with the punching bag, you mess with the ones who rely on it.

so, he briefly stops short as he wanders into the cargo hold, frowning hard as soon as he sees this mess. and whether or not she looks up in his direction to see, he's silently waving an irritated hand and pointing at the corpse of the punching bag as he heads closer.]

Red Fish assemble!

OTA | anywhere on the ship

kitchen;;

kitcheeeen

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

OTA

no subject

no subject

no subject

Cargo bay

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ota

no subject

Sometime after the lastest shuffle

no subject

no subject

no subject