driftfleet | Temper Tempo

Who: Nami and you!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bloodsport/Iskaulit for you drinkers out there.
When: Now-ish

[Nami's been in a bad mood of late. Mostly it's to do with Sascha and trying to shove her own feelings down and trying to deal with it in a responsible way because some jackass luck of the draw happened to make her Captain. Hooray! The bite has healed enough it just looks ugly instead of actually hurting (it itches, thanks so much for that), so she still keeps a loose bandage over the top. No big deal. She'll get over it. There's not much choice.

She works off her grouchiness at the bar in bits and pieces. She was doing pretty well until a box turned up in her bedroom addressed to Captain Nami.]

One piece--

[No, that's not a pun I swear. The feed clicks on to Nami's furious face, tapping the screen with one section of blue metal piping that a handful of people might find familiar.]

Problems with shipping? Delays in processing? IT'S A MATCHED SET! Why would you even break this up!? If you've lost the other parts I'm going to--

[RANT USELESSLY AT EVERYONE APPARENTLY. She shuts her mouth with a snap, fingers wrapped around the climatact piece in a crushing grip, before she suddenly smiles sweetly.]

Thank you so much for finally processing my claim, Diamond. Or whoever. At this rate I'll only have to submit those forms another eight times!

Don't think I don't know you're doing this on purpose. [And finally she pulls back, tapping the piece in hand before pointing it in the vague direction of her closed door with a dark mutter.] I bet it doesn't even work r--

[FWOOM.

...that'd be the sudden howl of wind punching through the air much like this, only more powerful and far less gracefully, given Nami went flying in the other direction with a yelp. There's a long moment of silence, punctuated by the sound of several maps falling off the walls, and the broadcast picks up nothing but the visuals of a room that looks like a small tornado just went through it.

......
......]

...needs calibration.

[Ow.]

-------

[You can also catch her at the Iskaulit. Not on shift tonight, kthx. She's just nursing a drink in the corner and glaring holes through the table.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Shall I come back to this later?

I'm not sure there's anything to come back to. [She's running out of steam on the creative insult front, apparently.]

Simon, in all the time you've been here, have the Atroma ever actually sent something the passengers requested? Before now. If this counts.

Not to my knowledge- but then again, I have never requested anything. ... well, I did wish my sister was here, but she wasn't for very long before she disappeared again.

I filled in forms to get this. But I didn't get it until after I snarked them on the network the other day...I filled in those forms like. A year ago, nearly.

Wow. I've heard of bureaucratic obstruction before, but that's a bit much.

I guess at least part of it actually turned up. I'd honestly assumed those forms were worthless. [But it's amazing what you'll fill out when you're on the bridge and bored.]

But now I want to know where the other two bits are.

Probably on some Atroma executive's desk as they watch with amusement. Or else they have a mail room someplace, and the other two parts are sitting waiting to be sorted.

Or maybe on sale in some backwater shops, according to Crowley.

Really? I'd never considered that- things from my world showing up here. I wouldn't mind finding some medical equipment from back home... though I know better than to expect that sort of generosity.

Yeah, but think about it, Simon. There's a lot of other people that go to the places we go to-- regulars and all. What's the chances that your stuff is still on sale by the time you get there?

That's true, as well. The odds of finding the other parts in a shop somewhere would be quite slim.

And no matter how you look at it, if that's true, then these people are taking our stuff and selling it.

Mmm. The merchants may not know that, but Atroma certainly does. Another way for them to keep us on a short leash.

Like it needs to be even shorter.

Indeed.

Temper Tempo

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