it's not our fault it's an april mingle

[ladybro]

Who: S.S. Blameless
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Yes, for crew-mates and any visitors!
When: Month of April

[ aww mingle, no. ]

Comments

[beathach]

[sooner or later Hank will actually venture out of his lab, on his own, unprompted we hope, and after he's sure nothing terrible will happen, has taken to exploring the ship.

When he sees Leto he stops, not exactly staring but watching, a little impressed]

[precedented]

[ He lifts his palm off the floor, using only three fingers or so before he's satisfied and tilts himself over, his feet hitting the floor with a loud thud. He glances at Hank, curious. His eyes glow an eerie blue. ]

See something you like?

[beathach]

[. . . uh. Now he is staring; this man looks like a younger Charles Xavier - younger than when Hank met him]

Er, no - I mean - I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. Or interrupt.

[precedented]

[ He rolls his shoulders, the wormskin rippling. ]

And yet that was the outcome.

[beathach]

You resemble a good friend of mine.

[he isn't going to lie, but he is going to look apologetic about being rude] And I was impressed by what you were doing.

[precedented]

[ He tilts his head bird-like before his eyes light up curiously. ]

Ah. The intrepid Charles Xavier. He has arrived, hasn't he?

[beathach]

So you're familiar with him. [he nods] We arrived together, actually.

[precedented]

In a manner of speaking. I have never met him, only heard of him through our shared resemblance.

[ And that probably where it ends. ]

[beathach]

[probably. He nods again though, and even smiles a little] It is a striking resemblance.

But - sorry, I'm still being rude. [and it's barely half a moment of internal debate, but he holds out a hand] I'm Hank.

[precedented]

[ He looks at it quizzically, before shaking it. The wormskin is more apparent now, coiled all over his palm and few fingers. ]

I am known as Leto.

[beathach]

[being someone who usually gets stared at, he gives the wormskin only the briefest of looks, but he shakes Leto's hand carefully regardless]

It's nice to meet you, Leto.

[precedented]

Is it? So soon?

[ There's a teasing tilt to his lips, nothing like Charles. It promises mischief and adventures. ]

[beathach]

[he tilts his head, a little curious and confused, but his lips are starting to twist into something like amusement]

Should I . . . reserve saying that until I've had time to get to know you?

[precedented]

It is probably for the best. It would seem foolish to take it back later, after all.

[beathach]

Foolish and rude, and I've been enough of the latter.

Would you be one of the - crew, then? [he pauses, frowning a little] Shipmates? I'm not sure which word is more appropriate just yet.

[precedented]

It hardly matters.

But yes, I am your tactical support.

[ Whatever that entails. ]

[beathach]

It matters.

But - ah. I didn't know tactical support was . . . necessary. [he gestures in the direction he came from] I'm, uh - lab support.

[precedented]

How so?

It may not be. I'll let you know if an imminent attack is near. Being prescient and all that.

[beathach]

Well - I mean, generally, one tries to make a good first impression, don't they?

Mm, but I'm glad that you're there - just in case.

[precedented]

Impressions are just that. Impressions. To base one's character over a single one is a narrow-minded blindness.

[ He shrugs. Even if there was an attack, Leto can't use his powers so flagrantly. But that was . . . sweet. ]

Just in case, then.

[beathach]

Ah . . . you're right. [he can't say he's ever really looked at it that way] I guess it's just a - mm, thing people worry about. Some people, I mean.

[to be honest Hank's instincts, from Kyriakos and just in general, are to expect something. So knowing someone was manning the helm, so to speak, put him at ease]

Mm. Have you been here long?

[precedented]

Thankfully, I have never been "some people" in any shape or form.

[ He considers this question. Time was tricky. ]

Two months.

[beathach]

So I've noticed. It's a good thing.

[that's . . . not so bad, especially considering he's heard from other people who have been here much longer]

That's . . . not so bad? [he phrases it as a question, because he isn't sure how most people feel about this place] Do you like it here?

[precedented]

Is it?

[ He rolls his shoulders, nonchalant. ]

It's not my first time in a place like that. It certainly isn't bad, so I see no reason to complain.

[beathach]

I think it is.

And that's . . . good. [it lines up with everything he's heard so far; he isn't sure whether to be more relieved or file it into the paranoia, that something has yet to happen] You've done this before?