driftfleet | One fish, two fish...

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One fish, two fish...

Who: Crew of the ~~S.S. Bad At Feelings~~ S.S. Red Fish and visitors!
Broadcast: Optional!
Action: All sorts!
When: Around the Drifting Week.

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[if the worlds really are watching, they must just be chomping at the bit to find out what's going on aboard this ship full of misfits and sad-sacks! with one crewmate reportedly dead, another recently missing, and now this thing about a hacking device planted in the communications system--what could possibly happen next?

stay tuned, audience!]

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You bastard!

[Seriously? Seriously? Is he really doing this to her? Asuka's mouth hangs open for a quarter-second, face going from a violent red to something stopping short of purple. Her fingers clamp like a pair of pliers around his shoulders, only to almost immediately release them so she can jump for that doll.]

[There's only one problem with jumping and yanking it-- she's afraid of damaging the fragile stitching (the plastic head and arms should be fine) in the process. So she's left impotently yelling and reaching and hopping, coming nowhere close to tugging it away.]

Give her back! This isn't a game, asshole!

[he suffers silently through being clamped onto, fascinated by whatever is going on with her face (he's lived mostly with the undead, you see, and they don't have a whole lot of blood for things like blushing or turning red in indescribable rage).

and then with her failing to snatch it up, he can finally get half-a-look at the thing. at least he knows what a doll is; his little sister used to with things like this, he thinks, though this one has a strange, cartoonish face and seems to be missing its lower half...? or maybe it's supposed to be that way...

her words have thus far fallen on deaf ears, but he finally clamps down on her shoulder with similar force--only because he wants to keep her from clawing his hand off as drops his other arm and holds up the doll for her to take. no tricks or anything.]

[Ow. Asuka winces as his hand clenches around her too-thin shoulder, a small hissing sound emitting from her throat. She's got the look of a cornered kid on her face, wary, waiting. Any minute now, he's going to make fun of her and keep playing this stupid game of keep-away. Any minute. So she won't rise to the bait. She won't reach for her doll. Asuka stands there for several seconds, ignoring the continuing sting of his grip, before finally realizing he really is waiting on her to take it. It's only then that she snatches the doll out of his hand.]

[There. Safely out of harm's way. The color really doesn't drain from her face much, though, and the next second sees her shoving him back in an effort to force him to let go of her shoulder. As usual, she's not being very careful.

Don't ever touch her again!

[thankfully, he lets go of her, too. and he takes a whole step backwards, raising his arms in as clear an, "Okay, okay, no touching!" posture as one can get. despite her obviously being mad at him, he looks nothing but curious.

his version of curious, anyway. he never emotes much.

he even tilts his head a little, like he expects her to talk about it even though he was being a complete ass just a couple of seconds ago.]

What do you want?

[The doll's cradled in one arm like an actual baby, which is actually a dire improvement from the way she usually holds it in the privacy of her room, making it talk to her like the puppet it is. But face to face with anyone, even she can't carry on with such juvenile behavior.]

[She looks at him carefully, expression caught and irritated, apt to bolt at the slightest wrong comment. The doll's supposed to make her feel secure, not humiliated.]

Sorry.

[he keeps his hands up. his shoulders are going to be sore, he can feel it--but that's nothing new for him, especially not on this ship.]

Just curious.

[not a terribly convincing argument, but at least it isn't... making fun of her? strange age and super-strength aside, Asuka's always seemed to act very normal to him. he really is intrigued by why she'd be cradling a children's toy like that.

she called it "her". the thing has to have a story.]

She's my doll. [That much is killingly obvious. Her eye's a barely-visible slit by this point, but at least her breathing is going back to its usual dull rhythm. Even though he hasn't made fun of her yet, and even though his hands are up as if in surrender, she's still on the defensive, sure he's just waiting for the proper opportunity to mock her.]

I got her back from the tree.

[That much of an explanation is almost gritted out. Her face is burning up, and his confusion, maybe even interest, isn't helping. It's not the biggest secret she's kept, but it is the most embarrassing. More than twenty years with a doll in her room, a doll she still conversed with. It was wrong when she was fourteen, and it's wrong now.] I've had her since I was three, okay? Satisfied?

Oh.

[which means a lot, coming from him. after running that through his filter of reality, that... checks out without a problem. makes a lot of sense. a toy is one thing, but a catalyst of sentimentality is another.]

Yeah.

[he lowers his hands, somehow looking and sounding a little more apologetic about it than he had when he'd actually said he was sorry.]

Yeah.

[He's probably seen enough of the crude stitching from when he looked at it earlier, the word "ASUKA" embroidered in bold, misshapen letters towards the bottom of the doll's dress. You don't need any of them, Asuka. Go it alone, Asuka. God, she's such a fucking child.]

I'm going back to my room.

Okay.

[he continues to stand there for just a couple of seconds too long. he would say that he's going to the kitchen, but that is A) pointless and B) she doesn't care.

so he says nothing. perhaps doing a wonderful impression of a scarecrow.

...she's going to have to be the one to walk away first.]

[She looks him up and down, contrarily. That was supposed to be his signal to make a dignified exit and let her save some face. He hasn't laughed at her, so she'd thought she had half a chance. Should've known better. Damn it. He's turned it into an idiotic standoff. And if she left now, all in an aggrieved rage, she'd stand a good chance of bumping into another stupid crew member. That's what she tells herself, at least.]

[Asuka lets the doll drop-- almost, still holding it by one chubby hand.]

Just say it, why don't you?

[after a moment of consideration, he points to his own face.

you know, the one painted like a skull.]

Not my place.

[What is he even trying to say? Three words that don't tell her anything. God, she's more frustrated now than if he'd mocked her into a screaming fit, or so she thinks. Then she looks again at his face and realizes it's some strange-- what? familiarity? understanding? something similar, or worse. He's saying he doesn't have room to talk.]

[Asuka deflates, but it's a slow process, and the red shade seems permanently attached to her skintone. Her words back are still harsh as ever.]

You think I still play with her, don't you? You think I haven't grown up!

[he's being accused of thinking what now? she's perhaps giving him far more credit than he deserves, and he slowly narrows his eyes in confusion.]

No... [thought if that's what she expects, or what she worries about... he tilts his head, looking at her from a new slant.] ...Should I?

No!

[Fight or flight. Idiot, he isn't looking for a flight. God, she's acting as if he's set fire to the engine room when all he's done is touch her doll. It's ridiculous. The whole situation is, but that doesn't keep the fire out of her cheeks. She might as well have shot all her credibility down in one fell swoop. He'll never take her seriously again. He'll probably tell all the crew, too, and then--]

Forget it! [And she's chosen to flee, but it's an angry flight, at least, stomping all the way as she heads towards-- where?-- apparently, her room, with a couple wary looks behind her at intervals.]

[he makes a small sound, half-interest and half-amusement, as she finally gives up on him and stomps away down the hallway.

the first time she looks back, he's still standing there, head still tilted as he watches her go--but the second time she looks, he's gone. vanished like a ghost.

or like someone who has quietly started walking in the other direction, down to the cargo bay. she won't have to worry about running into him again for a while.]

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One fish, two fish...

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