driftfleet | mingle bells, mingle bells, mingle all the way...

Kitchens

[Furiosa has been spending a lot of time out on the station, taking jobs, enjoying the parks, but now she's back and stocking up the kitchen with plenty of rations for an overcrowded ship. She's got plenty of her new favorite drink, too; coffee. Dark roasts, a couple blondes, and not a single decaf in sight.]

Bridge

[With the ship still being overcrowded, she's continued to make her bed the Captain's Chair. there's a lived in feel about it now, little trappings of a human nest scattered about, her plant affixed on the dashboard.]

About the Ship

[With the money she's made on the station, she's also stocked up on a few knives, and takes a day to hide them about the ship. They're as much for the crew's use as her own, but if you see any new skull motifs you can probably figure out where they come from.]

[ clad in pajamas, Nova wanders into the kitchen while Furiosa is restocking ]

What'd you get?

Canned fruits, vegetables, broths. Some spices. Jerky. Basically anything I thought might hold. [Who knows how long it'll be before they hit another station or planet, and who knows how long they'll still be overcrowded.]

That's plenty. Thanks for picking all of that up. Doing well with some of the odd jobs, huh?

Yes, there seems to be a pretty decent demand for pilots. How about you? Have you found much work?

Some, but I'm not really going too far out of my way. Just want some extra credits, mostly.

Edited 2016-03-21 03:23 (UTC)

[Clint spied the coffee while he was looking for a tub of something else. A tub of what? Well, he's just about forgotten at this point. Not important. Food? Probably? Not important.

Now he has all of the containers of coffee spread out on a counter in the kitchen, and he has just finished inspected them all for any sign of a name tag or scribbled initials or something. If this was the property of one particular crew-mate, or even a group who'd pooled their credits, he'd never make himself a cup without permission. Well, at least not so soon after the relative abundance of the station.]

Edited 2016-03-21 12:38 (UTC)

[Furiosa walks in to see him with the coffees spread out, and watches for a couple moments before misinterpreting his intentions and continuing in to put together a meal.]

Sorry, they're just one flavor. [No peppermint mocha or hazelnut caramel dream ... or decaf, for that matter.

Sorry?

[That was strange, because some of them smelled different to the others. Clint closed the lid on the container closest to him as surreptitiously as he could.]

These are yours?

They're for the ship. I stocked up at the station. Were you looking for something in particular? [If he had a preference, maybe she could try to remember that when they hit the next waystation]

No, some coffee is already a bahundred times better than no coffee.

[Just the thought of waking up to cup of Joe tomorrow morning was making him feel weirdly nostalgic.]

Should we be rationing it?

[Clint wasn't a one-cup-a-day sort of guy. He wasn't nearly a one-cup-a-morning sort of guy either, but he figured he could be if it came down to it.]

Edited (Added the 'ba' of 'bahundred.' Like bajillion, but less sounding-like-a-coffee-addict) 2016-03-22 23:22 (UTC)

[She's been getting spoiled by the coffee. Water itself had been a comodity in her world, and to have a stimulant like this in relatively easy access was proving a handy luxury.]

You don't have to be stringent with it, but don't go overboard.

You got it. Hey, speaking of that - did you know Tyrion has been passing handguns around like candy? I just met him, first time ever, and he's trying to put a gun in my hand. He doesn't even know if I know how to use it. Didn't even ask.

[He'd better put this stuff away, now the coffee-mystery is solved. One tub at a time, he stows it back into place.]

Edited 2016-03-25 18:05 (UTC)

[She quirks her brow. It's not entirely surprising, but she works have liked some heads up so people could be trained not to shoot themselves.]

Is that so?

Loaded guns. He's going to get someone killed.

[It's infuriatingly hard to get a read on Furiosa. He'd expected her to speak up in support of Tyrion, unless the man was a shameless liar. Or if she'd really had no foreknowledge of this, at the very least he'd expect her to be surprised. Concerned. Angry. Something.]

Edited 2016-03-26 11:26 (UTC)

[She purses her lips and nods.] We'd talked about arming the crew, but I had assumed he knew the basics since he was putting them all together.

[Nova implied that the Atroma had made Tyrion an engineer. Apparently they'd made him a gunsmith. And apparently they hadn't seen any reason to include an NRA handbook in his neural databanks.]

He said he was giving one to each of us. Everyone aboard. I don't need to tell you how dangerous that is.

[Although technically he already did.]

You need to lock them up somewhere.

[Furiosa looks at Barton, her expression going carefully blank. Maybe it wasn't Tyrion she should have been keeping an eye on.]

So you'd rather some were able to defend themselves while others weren't?

[She looks blankly at Barton food a moment. Maybe Tyrion wasn't the one she should have been worrying about.]

You'd rather some people be able to defend themselves while others can't?

[Of course not. It wasn't about that. Or was she arguing rhetorically?]

Having a gun doesn't guarantee you can defend yourself, but firing a gun almost always ends with something broken, or someone hurt. And that's if the person firing it knows what they're doing.

Edited 2016-03-28 21:44 (UTC)

Sometimes things need to be broken, and sometimes people need to be hurt. [No, she understands what he's trying to get at, but from her perspective, it's not worth the risk leaving people vulnerable.] I'll talk to Tyrion about distribution, they'll get training, but I will see this crew armed and capable.

But not in that order, right?

[He was joking, sort of. On the one hand, he meant the sentiment completely. The crew should be capable before they were armed... but on the other hand he gave the slight correction with a smile, and used it in hopes of punctuating the fact that at last they seemed to be agreeing.]

[She looks at him blankly for a moment, and then allows herself a slight smirk. They're coming to a compromise, at least.] Yeah. Good. I guess ... you grow up with them, it's ingrained.

mingle bells, mingle bells, mingle all the way...

Furiosa

Kitchen

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