enter if you dare (i'm kidding we're 80% approachable)

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Crew and visitors for the Starstruck!
Broadcast: None!
Action: The SS Starstruck
When: March! And, y'know, until the next mingle too.


[EVERYONE GET IN HERE AND MINGLE AND STUFF OKAY.]

Comments

OTA | Sewing Mama in the Kitchen | Or Rambling Handyman in the Cargo Holds

[theroadwarrior]

[also here is the 20% unapproachable

Max has been busying himself, now that he's decided to keep a watchful eye on the dog (which is now in a proper cast, though he makes it a point to not let the old mutt hobble around too much on it). He misses a few jobs on the station, but he's been paid very well in the past, and he's not particularly hurting on money. The audiences must've enjoyed watching him play hero to a dog — not that that was his thought process, but you know how animal rescue is for the sentimental heart.

At any rate, he can be found checking Dog Two's leg to make sure there's nothing more sinister going on with it, like an infection or torn stitching, and then he lets the pooch settle while he sits calmly at the kitchen table, sewing a rip in his leather jacket; the Citadel's brand is perched high on his neck, revealed under his normal shirt collar. It wouldn't be the first time he's had to mend it. The jacket. It's just not usual that it's because he'd gotten it caught on some machinery while working on the space station.

He's been thinking a lot lately, stuck in his own head. About a lot of things.

Obligations, and whatnot. Having a place here. Helping Peggy when she fell, helping the dog when he found it hurt. This isn't what he's made for. This is not only undeserved, but it's foreign territory. Even when he was stuck aboard the Tranquility, or the planet it crashed on, he at least had a way to always remain at a distance. Relatively, anyway.

He isn't sure how to feel about... any of that. What he does know is that when he's not tending to the dog, he's utterly restless and goes out for hours at a time. He always comes back, though. That's important to note. He comes back.

The bearded, wild-haired man is around. He can also be found inventorying his tools; it's kind of important to have them in order for shuttle repairs. The more concerning thing is that he's... kinda talking to himself. In his isolation in a corner of the cargo bay, with his tools being cleaned and properly maintained, one may hear him:]

Transmission won't burn up fluid during use... running low means a leak, might be disconnecting cooler lines, th'gaskets and the seals; worn down, no good, check the bell housings or loose transmission pans. Worn axles, mounts... unbalanced drive shafts... Grinding noise after engagin' the clutch... gear synchonizers... Whining... buzzing... humming sound...

[Yeah, he's repeating detailed information about transmission fluid damage in cars.

He only stops in his rambling to pat the dog's head when it whines nearby.]

[storminside]

[Ororo's still prone to wandering around the ship, trying to familiarize herself with her new temporary home, and happens to catch bits and pieces of his rambling words as she enters the kitchen. She admittedly doesn't understand all of it - it's a lot of jargon - but she's been around enough transport (everything between earthbound and spaceworthy) to sort of translate a bit of it for herself. Kind of.]

... Is there something wrong with our ship?

[theirinurpants]

Tell me the dog has a good name.

[ After all, he clearly got injured, and such a noble beast deserves a good name! ]

Action

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[Now that the dog was better and on its feet, Wanda wasted no time in taking multiple opportunities to play with him. She'd even managed to sneak him a few treats now and then when he wasn't completely under Max's watching eye. Know where the two of them might be--or rather, knowing where they always are, she enters the cargo bay, looking around for them. She spies Max first, and Rocky wastes no time in walking over to say hello to her. She greets the dog with a smile, kneeling down to give him a few pets.]

[She then straightens up and walks over to Max. Rocky follows after her, taking a seat nearby. She watches Max tinker away for a little bit, listening to him mumbling to himself like a weirdo, before she clears her throat a little, letting him know she's here.]

Whatever you take apart, make sure you know how to put it back together.

[Not that she doesn't trust Max's expertise, more so that she can't resist taking a little, teasing jab at him.]

[speedboat]

[ oh look it's the dog. howard shoots him a quizzical look, but he's focusing on the man's words. ] Are you in engineering, son?

[therewerefifty]

[True to her word, Makie comes looking for Max once she's accumulated enough money to pay the price they'd agreed on, stepping on board a little diffidently. This is the first ship she's visited other than her own; it doesn't feel right.

It doesn't stop her seeking him out, though, and the fact that he's in the cargo bay is handy. She doesn't have to go very far. Though once she hears him muttering, she slows, brow furrowing as she tries to make any sense whatsoever of what he's saying. Man, doesn't anyone talk about normal stuff around here. :|]

OTA! kitchen mostly because well

[theirinurpants]

[ Alistair spends most of his time on the ship either in his bunk or in the kitchen. In part because of his rather outstanding appetite, and also because they're the only places that have any real familiarity to him. The rest of the place is alien, metal, and cold, and frankly, he's afraid to touch anything lest it blow up in his face. ]

I don't suppose there are any actual books around? [ This is mostly a rhetorical question that he doesn't expect an answer to - at least, not a satisfactory one. ]

[resnipstance]

What do you want to read?

OTA l Kitchen, Rec Room or Bridge

[notmutantbutmiracle]

[After some time, Wanda's begun to resume a more active presence around the ship. No longer hiding away in her bunk room, she'll often be found in the kitchen during meal times, willing to socialize with fellow crew members and visitors. And at other times, she can be found in the rec room. It's been a while since she last practiced some of the steps that James Barnes had taught her, and she figured she needed to get back into the habit of practicing. When she's not throwing punches at the bag, she's instead moving weights and other various objects around the room. Nothing too crazy or anything, but just enough to practice her abilities, trying to reclaim a bit of a routine that she'd let slip.]

[However, despite her apparent return to normal behavior, there are times when she can be found on the bridge, by herself. She's not really doing anything ship-work related, more so she'll just be found seated in one of the pilot chairs, seemingly staring out into the void of space. Watching, almost searching, for something.]

[storminside]

[ Ororo makes it to the rec room around the time Wanda is making various objects float around the room. It's a surprising sight, but Ororo smiles. It brings back memories of old friends. ]

... That's an interesting gift.

ota!!!

[mucked]

[ peggy is her usual busy self -- except lately, her attentions have wandered far afield from their little ship. she can be found in her quarters with the door propped open (in case she's needed). but instead of the usual array of cosmetics on her cramped metal vanity table, she's swept it all aside in favour of...papers. she's been recording what she can remember from the last year-or-so. a hundred thousand new memories crammed into her brain as she'd slept, and suddenly she feels older and none the more wise.

but at least she doesn't abandon all routine. by now, she was feeling a lot better. in the cargo bay, she concentrates on throwing punches at their hanging punching bag. the hits land solid, and well. but every now and then her right hook looks a little more emotional than calculated. after each workout, she spends some time stretching. quiet, and occasionally cranky.

and finally, crewmates are likely to catch her brewing tea in the kitchen at one moment or another. she never fails to offer anyone a cuppa should they walk in while she's doing so. ]

[storminside]

Someone had suggested to Ororo that she try and look up the first mate earlier. She was told that they'd shared an augment, or something to that effect; Ororo had yet to figure out what they were, what they did, and why they were important. So she'd gone looking for answers. But when she'd passed by their quarters, she'd looked particularly busy - far too engrossed in whatever work she had for Ororo to disturb her in good conscience. She figured she could bother her later on; there was the rest of the ship left to explore, probably, and quite a few other crewmates to meet.

It's quite a bit later on that she finally winds back around to the kitchen (the ship wasn't that big, and the crew wasn't as large as she'd first assumed), drawn in by the warm, welcome scent of tea. She hasn't had a cup in what feels like ages, so at first she doesn't even realize who it is that's doing the brewing.

"- Is that real darjeeling...?"

It smells wonderful - or perhaps she was just imagining it? What she'd give for a proper cup.

never enough threads lmfao

[theroadwarrior]

[Max is restless in the cargo bay as usual when she goes punching the punching bag. And so much like their first encounter with each other, his gears are grinded with every little THUNK-THUNK of Peggy's fists followed by that fwipfwipfwip of the bag waggling back into place between turbulent punches. It'd be one thing if he wasn't trying to concentrate on the information on the network. As it is, he can't focus, and every little sound leaves an anxious rumble of vocals perforating the folds of his brain. He hears the squeal of tires in rhythm with the noise, the sound akin to a body hitting asphalt and being run over.

He hobbles over, ready to be a whiny bitch about it (of course).

But then he just watches her with a quirked eyebrow and folded arms.

Somebody is having to release some inner demons today.]

[speedboat]

[ he knocks on her door just to get her attention, moving to sit on her bed before there's a reply. howard knows this is far harder for her than it is for him, and he doesn't know how to reconcile it. ]

Do you think they have that cheese here? ...Velveeta.

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka usually leaves the First Mate alone to do her job and to her own devices-- Peggy is competent, and Ahsoka is a competent pilot, so their paths don't usually have cause to cross. Today, though, Ahsoka's attention is caught by the unusual sight of all those papers strewn across Peggy's vanity table in her room. She almost passes by the door completely, but then she stops and backtracks a little. Popping her head in, curious:]

What's all that?

VISITING

[sandhate]

[ He promised Ahsoka they'll go sparring together some time!

This is not one of those days. This is Anakin just digging his hands into the not-really all that different shuttle on Starstruck and waiting for Ahsoka to show up and tell him to stop that or join him. So enjoy random person in your cargo bay, Starstruck. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[Who the fuck are you.

Who keeps inviting randos into my den of awkward antisocialism.

Max pokes his head out of his shuttle after a small nap, too easily woken by the echo of new footsteps. But it's not familiar — nope. He figured it wasn't FDR because that guy just always seems to wander up in the most aggravating ways. No Peggy, no Mohawk, no Hugstoomuch. Hmm. He squints.]

Who're you.

[Hi.]

[resnipstance]

[Meditating in her room, Ahsoka senses Anakin's presence in no time at all and opens her eyes, frowning. Is there some kind of problem, she wonders? She and Anakin weren't due to meet today. She double checks her commlink to see if there are any messages left there that she's missed, but nothing. Huh. She stands, stretching her muscles briefly before wandering down to the cargo bay.

Ahsoka's made some of her own small adjustments to the Starstruck's three short-range shuttles, of course, so when she sees Anakin guts-deep in one of them, she just raises one eyebrow as she pads over. When she talks, it's equal parts exasperated and fond.]

Run out of things to tinker with on the Paisley already, Master?

after the shuffle! halls, rooms and lab!

[fuga]

[ There's someone new on board, and she's not happy about it.

For the first few hours after the shuffle she walks around as if she's in some kind of daze, sleepwalking through most of the halls even as she tries to wrap her mind around the strangeness of it all. Certain things have been placed into her head, of course, and she loathes the idea of someone invading her mind, but she does what she can... Still covered in sticky, dried blood and deathly pale.

Eventually, she manages to make her way to the rooms and get herself cleaned up, though anyone that sees her without her robes will likely note the fact that she never, not even for a second, takes off her black gloves. They're always on, even as she washes blood from her face and runs her dark hair through her fingers, calming the wild mass of it all before she gathers herself and sets herself to rights. Her hood is over her face and her hands are draped in the sleeves of her robes - it's almost as if she wants to be nothing more than a shadow, to hide herself away and pretend that she does not exist at all.

Eventually, she makes her way to the med bay, collecting a sample of all the strange, modern medicines she can find and moving to sit in a corner, placing them all in front of her. She examines them all, one by one, the new information in her mind filling in the gaps even as she finds herself frustrated with the disconnect. ]

halls, between room and lab

[lord_wizard]

[As might as she might want to try to hide, the movement of a robed figure making it's way down the hall, framed by the sterile lighting and shining metal, is particularly hard to miss. It's still a bit chilling, despite the incongruous setting, and it takes him a moment - enough for her to nearly lose him around a corner - before he hastens to catch her. Not that he can make out any particular race or gender right away.]

Excuse me...

lab

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka is just walking past the medbay when she spots the new arrival and senses the frustration in the Force around her. She pops her horned little head in.]

Hey there. You okay?

from Maldua onwards, room and kitchens

[lord_wizard]

[Felix had been mentally preparing himself for leaving the Starlight ever since the arrival of the Maldua became apparent. He knows a period of listless traveling is imminent, so as he says goodbye to the floating cityscape with regret for everything he'd been unable to procure. He's at least thankful to be free of the gumballs, and once the cargo hold is vacant the mental calculations transform themselves into physical action.

Largely, this means cleaning. It's not an activity he enjoys by any stretch but it's something to do. Something that might make the Starstruck more bearable to be trapped in for however long it will be until he can escape it again. He airs out his room and straightens his belongings (clothes and books, mostly), wiping every surface down from the floors to the hanging fishbowl that strangely houses a glowing fish, then replacing the bedding with yet more new linens (thanks Max).

In the kitchen it's more of the same. He might be found cleaning the counters and dining table, including the strange glowing chicken statue fused to the middle of it, his shirtsleeves neatly rolled up to reveal the brilliant tattoos of winding vines that crawl up from his knuckles to his elbows. Over the smell of soap is the odor of fresh bread and roasting meat (thanks Max, this time less sarcastically]. There is a pan boasting the former, slightly burnt at the edges, but nevertheless the genuine article, sitting on the counter to cool.

Funny how distractions start to look like actually doing your job sometimes]

[resnipstance]

[Ahsoka comes into the kitchen when she smells meat cooking, but then she pauses awkwardly when she sees it's just her and Felix. Her hesitation is apparent-- she can't back away now that he's seen her come in. That would be rude in the extreme. But their relationship to date on the Starstruck has been awkward at best, so she doesn't want to presume to ask him for food when it's just the two of them, either.]

Oh. ... Um. ... Hi.

[Awkward turtle.]

[theroadwarrior]

[Max leans against the counter eating some unpleasant looking glob of space food, watching Felix go to and fro — and really, he's been wandering around doing things for a while. He chews a slow bite and raises one solitary eyebrow at the scene, just as the man begins his cleaning of the kitchen. Isn't this more like the little girl from the Huntress' cleaning thing?]

... You're more restless than me.

[Dryly spoken. Max is at least in a slightly better mood than when he was cursing about his broken tooth.]

OTA | March 17th and 18th

[theroadwarrior]

[Max was grouchy, a bit obnoxious, and over all a pain in the butt because he wouldn't just go and get his tooth dealt with this last week. Now, though... he got it dealt with. And somehow, it has not improved the mood. Oh, sure, he's not as grumpy, but he sure has gotten even quieter than he usually is. Like. Radio silent. When he ghosts around the Starstruck, it's a groggy, thoughtful sort of specter haunting the halls.

There are pills that rattle in his pocket, and he takes them with... some regularity. Granted he's not following the doses and times to take them properly, but at least he's taking them despite his horrible paranoia surrounding the harmless little orange tube.

He does as he usually does. No more cursing, but instead filled with contemplation. And worse, a strange disconnect from people he actually bothers interacting with. He feels bad, is the problem. He hurt someone because of how he is, and it doesn't usually bother him because he's usually always by himself, and it bothers him that it bothers him so much, and he doesn't know what to do with it...

He sighs, lingers in the shuttles. Sometimes he pilots them out just to do it, get his mind focused on any kind of task so he isn't replaying his own error, or the panic surrounding it.

All the while, as he wanders the ship for his usual ritual of bathe, eat, sleep for a handful of hours, work, check dog, repeat, he's got a swollen chipmunk cheek that is finally starting to go down. But still, it's kind of obvious. He even practices on the punching bag a little, despite how it makes his head and gums throb.

He hates his life, where's some kind of oasis or Valhalla when you need it.]

[mucked]

[ peggy carter builds walls around herself. as brash and as forward as she can be, she only allows people to peep through the portholes she's made. embrasures in her parapets, so to speak. only lately all the bricks have begun to crumble, despite how fine a job she's been doing at making it appear as though her fortifications have suffered barely a chink -- until recently, when the dust begins to show. and, in some moments, her moods appear to be as dark as max's own.

but today she's productive. engaged. while max is off doing lord-knows-what, peggy stops by the cargo bay to visit the dog. rock, she coos, what a good boy.

and so he just might walk in to find her bestowing a few tender pets on the good dog's head. ]