March Mingle Madness (aka SURPRISE it's another mingle)

[bryces_pup]

Who: Crew members and visitors of the SS Blue Fish
Broadcast: nope
Action: On the Blue Fish, naturally.
When: Throughout March!

[Another month, another mingle. Once again, any visitors on the ship should bear in mind that there are locks installed all over the ship, so someone on board's gotta let you in. Or you can just stand there. And stare. And hope someone takes pity on you.]

Comments

max | ota | waiting room hell (thursday)

[theroadwarrior]

[Well... Max's initial plan was to come to this ship and... apologize... to Beverly. For, you know. Socking her in the eyeball. He feels — actually really, really awful about that, and it's not often he feels bad for hurting someone. It's different when you're rolling around with a fellow wastelander, struggling to kick their ass. Or when you headbutt someone who decided to hug you. But this? It was just him losing himself, plain and simple.

The metal on his face still burns, and he remembers thinking, This is wrong, I'm back there and this is wrong, they're going to muzzle him and hang him back up — and by the time he came to... actually remembered where and who he was, who they were, damage'd been done.

It was him who agreed to it. Thought he could do it.

So. Reparations are in order.

...

If someone would

open the

front door.

After waiting, he plops down to the side of it, bad leg stretched out and arms folded loosely. He guesses he deserved it. He did hurt someone, someone trying to help. So. He sits. And waits. And waits. And will wait into eternity (or until someone saves him from his waiting room hell). Hello, this is scruffy man, is anyone home. Don't mind his swollen cheek and jaw, he had a tooth pulled yesterday.

...

If anyone does actually let him in, he's looking for Beverly, okay.

But he'll peer around curiously, because it is a new place.]

[bryces_pup]

[Fortunately for Max, eventually Riona meanders her way by that part of the ship, and takes notice of someone camped out by the door. Her suspicion is raised; a friend of anyone on the Blue Fish knows about the locks, and knows to message a crew member to let them in. She approaches carefully.

To say she's surprised wouldn't be true, but saying she's not surprised wouldn't be right either. Her arms cross as she regards Max, a bit torn about how she feels about him at the moment. On the one hand, he rescued a dog. On the other, he punched Beverly. Not maliciously, as she found out, but still Not Okay.]

I hope you're here to apologize to Beverly.

[theroadwarrior]

[Max glances up from where he sits, making no move to stand up. For one, his leg likes it more when he doesn't, and for another — well, he'll look less imposing if he just sits, lets everyone know he's not here to be... you know. Mm. Whatever they think he might be. Beverly seems kind (too kind, actually), but they may have their own opinions of him.

Which is fine with him. He doesn't mind if people hate him, or think he's an idiot, or if they think he's a danger. He usually agrees with a lot of assessments. But he's here to see one particular person, and other than try to get them to let him in, he's really not interested in making friends or finding company.

When he looks, she can probably see the effects of Beverly's work on his jaw; the cheek and jawline is swollen still, will go away once he starts consistently taking his medications. He's just as fast to glance away, though, nodding wordlessly. At least he looks mildly discomforted — guilty? — when she mentions what happened.]

[bryces_pup]

[Riona sighs quietly before she unlocks the door. As it opens, she slowly reaches a hand down and offers it to Max to help him stand. Despite her annoyance with him, she knows what he did isn't entirely his fault - not according to Beverly, anyway.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He looks with great uncertainty towards her hand, as if she might as well have a snake for fingers, then reaches out with his own, the contrast a polar opposite. His knee pops as he grunts, rising back up to stand solidly. He doesn't reply to her quiet sigh; just stands, trying not to look too intimidating as he waits for wherever she plans to leave him.

It's clear upon him entering that he's already guarded, glancing around with a furrowed, concerned brow. Taking in every detail, ready for any sort of disturbance. Yeah. Being on another ship is not at all easy; it's not familiar, and therefore, it's utterly unsafe. Clearly.

But he is doing his damnedest not to get thrown out until he can give Beverly what he came to offer.]

[bryces_pup]

[The way his eyes dart around, the guardedness to his stance... It seems Beverly may have been onto something. No one is that wary just for the hell of it. Whatever he's been through, it's been nothing short of kind of fucking awful.

And here she is, being suspicious and annoyed. Unacceptable. So she puts a smile in place and takes a step back, giving him space.]

Beverly is... she should be in the lab. I can show you, if you'd like.

[theroadwarrior]

[He nods, licks dried lips, brow furrowed.]

Is she, um... Is she alright?

[He hasn't kept up well, isn't sure just how bad it looks. Probably bad.

... He's got a mean right hook.]

[bryces_pup]

She is all right, though she sports a black and blue eye.

[She gives him a slight smile.]

And she is not upset. She defended you to me, and likely a few others as well.

[theroadwarrior]

[He wrinkles his nose, apparently displeased with the news.]

She doesn't have to defend me.

I shouldn't have gone through with it to begin with.

[steeledskin]

[ sansa doesn't often leave her ship. and even less often, still, does she leave it without an escort. and so it's a curious set of circumstances that leads to her returning home -- by shuttle -- all on her lonesome. there is a furtive nature to her arrival, and guilt lurking in her eyes.

but all that drains away to sudden horror as she steps off the shuttle with a rustle of silk skirts. there, sitting by the door, is some peasant. some small-folk swollen-jawed scruffy looking thing. she freezes where she stands.

sansa swallows. remember, be courteous. ] M-may I help you?

[ she keeps her distance. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He looks up at her, assessing her immediately for danger. Just because she's mild-mannered doesn't mean he's going to assume she actually is. Could be a nice cover-up for something else entirely. But -- he's here to play nice, so he makes sure to school his face into something not.. friendly, per se, but not into something that you'd run away from yelling 'intruder'. He stays sitting, too. Max thinks that's a pretty nice thing for him to do, alright.]

M'here to see Beverly. Doctor on this ship.

[steeledskin]

[ -- why doesn't he stand? sansa feels vexed. proper manners suggest he ought to stand and bow, especially if he is of such rough origin as he seems to be. but then he names the healer, and she wonders whether there's something wrong with his feet.

sansa doesn't take another step. ]

Are you her friend? [ cautious. ]

[theroadwarrior]

... Patient.

[Though, for what it's unsure. He's got an obvious leg brace strapped on and an obvious swelling to his jaw, but who knows which he's here for as far as she's concerned. At any rate, he doesn't budge from his close seat by the door. He eventually answers the question himself. Taps his poor jaw with a finger.]

Helped with a tooth. I, mmm... have something to give her.

Payment. For — everything.

[steeledskin]

[ -- it's a good reason. a good excuse. but she is slow to trust anything down in the pit of her heart, and another look at him sets off alarms. waves flags. he doesn't look like the sort of man you should invite into anywhere, and didn't they all have locks on their doors for reasons? sansa understands that he could be lying to her.

so she tries to deflect. she tries to pretend like she doesn't doubt him, because displaying such a hunch would surely put her in danger. ]

Have you tried calling her? It seems a better means to find her than waiting outside her door.

[theroadwarrior]

I don't... call people.

[Wow, that's so helpful. But he rubs the back of his neck and doesn't budge, looking anywhere but at the girl. Her hair is bright, like Capable's. Not quite so blood-soaked, but a fire burning. He rubs his swollen jaw, which is scruffy with a curling little beard. He smells strongly of oils from a machine.]

No good at it. Better to just deliver this in person.

[steeledskin]

[ it raises yet another flag. why should anyone ever profess to not call people. admittedly, the devices are strange. perhaps even a bit hellish. but sansa has come to value the distance they provide. ]

I -- I can't let you in.

[theroadwarrior]

[He looks mildly surprised — only mildly. He's never outright surprised when someone tells him no. It's a pretty common response, but his mind is quick to figure out just why the girl is so hesitant. Ahhhh. Considering she's Cheedo's age, considering she's a girl near a strange man, she's being utterly cautious. And he's sitting in her way.]

... Hnn. You're nervous around strangers. Smart.

[He doesn't get up, but he slides himself to the side, until he's as far from the door as he can be.]

S'fine.

I'll, hm. Wait. Owe someone an... apology.

[dancingmd]

[Whenever Riona - or whoever - eventually brings Max to sickbay, he'll find Beverly in there, tending to her own wound. Allen patched her up very nicely, but it's only been a day, so she's still having to ice it and keep up with a steady stream of anti-inflammatories and pain mess. Frankly, she's surprised to see him back again so soon, her eyebrows shooting up as he walks in.]

Hello.

[She doesn't move towards him, but she doesn't back away either. If he chooses to come closer he can.]

[theroadwarrior]

[... Ahh.

He stands still in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. Seeing her black eye front and center wasn't very reassuring -- he looks down at the space between them, humming. Apologies are not easy for Max. They are... unusual. He's considering how to go about it -- which way will better wash off the ugly mark he left other than time and distance. Part of him reminds himself that she's just a new acquaintance. It shouldn't bother him as much as it does... but it does. Goddamn conscience.

He steps forward, but he doesn't bridge the gap entirely.]

Mmn.

I, um. Wanted to...

[He motions at her, reaches into his jacket and holds up a small bag made of a simple cloth. It rattles a bit as he carefully, slowly -- like a nervous animal pawing -- places it on the nearest surface she's at. He steps back quickly enough.

That's for you. Enough credits to easily cycle through for the next two weeks or so. More, if you're incredibly picky about using it.]

[dancingmd]

[Oh. She frowns in confusion at the bag for a moment before it clicks: it's not payment, it's an apology. Looking back up at him, her expression softens. It kills her how nervous he is, how... lost, almost. As she picks up the bag, she mimics his carefulness without even really realizing she's doing it. Without even looking inside to see how much is there, she puts it in her pocket. The amount of credits doesn't matter. It's the thought behind it.]

Thank you.

[theroadwarrior]

[A nod. He's relieved she's taken it well enough.

He suspected she would, but. Ahm.]

How's your...

[He motions to his own eye, wincing mildly.]

[dancingmd]

It's painful.

[No point in downplaying it with him.]

But I'll live. [Tiniest of crooked smiles - it hurts too much to give him a full one.] I've had worse than a black eye before.

[theroadwarrior]

[He doesn't meet her smile with anything but a glance away.]

Mmn.

[A small affirmation. It's true, black eyes are hardly that bad. He's had them before; he's had a lot of things before. It's not a big deal until you're tied to bake out in the sun by cannibals. Among other things.]

I... misread myself.

[He says it slowly. Trying to set things right.]

Won't happen again. Too risky.

[dancingmd]

[She shakes her head. He's her patient, she's not giving up on him.]

We'll know next time, we'll be better prepared...

[theroadwarrior]

[And he shakes his head right back solemnly.]

No next time. I'll handle things from here on.

[A 'sorry' is on the tip of his tongue, but his jaw throbs and he hopes the credits were enough to make up for his lackluster ability to actually say it aloud. Instead, now that he's told her his piece, he turns to leave the room.]