driftfleet | o1;; You didn't see that coming?

Who: Pietro & You!
Broadcast: yes
Action: SS Bloodsport
When: Right now

[ Video;; ]
[ The video feed shakes, the audio cracking as the communicator is moved around. The broadcasting image so far is the floor, covered in multicolored confetti, and a pair of black and grey running sneakers in view. The left foot taps impatiently before the video swings again to the bridge of the Bloodsport. ]

[ There is a sigh before heavily accented voice accompanies the shoddy cameraman-ship. ] If this is someone's idea of a prank, it lacks humor.

[ The communicator finally turns around, and Pietro is very firmly not happy with this situation. ]

I have complaints.

[ SS Bloodsport;; ]
[ Pietro can be found in various places throughout the Bloodsport. In the kitchen, trying to figure out what the deal with protein paste is. The bridge offers a bit of a distraction with the endless sea of stars or the array of broadcast settings, and how can he resist settling into the bunks? It's been a very long time since he's had his own room. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

There's a difference between putting up with it and losing interest in changing it.

That much is true. Once you've given up on change, they win.

[That's a satisfactory answer, and Erik inclines his head slightly in response.]

I imagine someone has given you the basic information by now.

I have picked up on what I think are the basics, yes. Is there more I should be aware of?

Don't try to remove this. [Erik reaches up and taps the back of his skull, where the augment sits.]

I gathered as much. I can't say that I enjoy the idea that this could be the cause of my tampered abilities.

[ He rubs a finger over the odd bump, unsettled by its presence. There is a feeling of dread deep in his gut that says don't fuck with it. ]

I agree. [Enough so that he had tried to remove it, only to be hit with that crippling fear of proceeding.]

But having a distinct cause is better than no idea.

[ He shrugs. ]

I suppose so. It is no less frustrating, though.

Indeed.

[He pauses; might as well introduce himself.]

Erik Lehnsherr.

Pietro Maximoff.

Oh.

[It's out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He stares at the communicator in his hand in dead silence, mind whirring. "It was Peter's last name. Apparently, in other realities, he's called Pietro Maximoff." He doesn't look like Peter -- but neither does Erik look like other Magnetos, at least as far as he's been told, and what is he meant to do? He wasn't prepared to deal with this.

After a tense moment, he looks away and says distantly:] Nice to meet you. [Then he switches the feed off, without another word.]