Hark! A Mingle!

[theboogieman]

Who: The Golden Crew!
Broadcast: Probably not.
Action: Yes that.
When: Sometime while everyone's still on the toxic moon?

[hey, crew! how's life aboard the good ol' Golden? why does the corner of the ceiling dip down like that? has it always been that way? oh, whatever. what's everyone on this fine crew up to?]

Comments

[theboogieman]

[his listening comprehension is remarkably low. it's for the best; Zhas steps back only to find that his legs don't go where they want, and he takes an ungraceful tumble back into the wall and halfway to the floor.

not that it keeps him down for long; he's already growling and trying to figure out what's tripped him up.]

[sylphystia]

[They're basically little throwing knives attached to wire. He made them on a space station a couple months ago because why not. Better than rocks on strings? Anyway, he feels he's taught Zhas enough of a lesson that he can retreat back into his room and-- you guessed it-- slam the door shut.

There is one phrase that comes over the communicator, though.]

Better luck next time, punk.

[theboogieman]

Fuck off.

[is his immediate and eloquently growled reply. but... having to untwist these things from his legs, and being on the floor, and fighting an invisible wind guy? finally starts counting up as a little too much to pick a fight over.

so... you've won for now, stupid door ghost.]