One fish, two fish...

[theboogieman]

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.

---

[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!]

Comments

[interstices]

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?

[theboogieman]

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.]

[interstices]

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.

[theboogieman]

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.]

[interstices]

[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?

[theboogieman]

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

you know, the one painted like a skull.]

Not my place.

[interstices]

[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!

[theboogieman]

[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?

[interstices]

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.]

[theboogieman]

[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.]