groove slam work it back

[noctiphile]

Who: the good and merry folk of the S. S. Starstruck
Broadcast: it's a mystery! you decide!
Action: S. S. Starstruck
When: until we make a new one

[Wow! Look at that! This ship sucks! Discontent is abundant! No one likes each other! Everyone's grumpy! I'm using too many exclamation points! Looks like it's just the first of many exciting episodes aboard the S.S. Starstruck*.]

*property possibly inherited from lady gaga

Comments

[noctiphile]

That's a bit rude.

[But he seems more put-out than anything. A sour attitude is justified if his reaction was a common one. For now, he'll give her the benefit of the doubt, jumping off his chair only to pull it closer.] I'd like to think I say something of interest now and again. Are you part of the crew?

[pocketpal]

I am your captain.

[ She's got enough balance to spare that she can cross her arms, looking quite fierce.

But, still, she hasn't seen many people in person in the last five years. She's interested, but she tries to hide that little spark of curiosity. ]

ELN-1470.

[noctiphile]

Well, I suppose I can't argue with that.

[With a grunt, he hoists himself back onto his chair, leaning against the section of wall closest to her. It's not very comfortable but comfort becomes secondary when small people are involved.] ELN-1470. That's an odd name, if you don't mind me saying. Do the numbers hold any significance? Is that rude of me to ask?

[pocketpal]

[ He's being friendly.

Why is he being friendly.

This leaves her somewhat disoriented, and she slips, catching herself on a little screwhead in the wall. Not in any danger, just a little bit ruffled. ]

I was ELN number one thousand, four hundred and seventy to be decanted in the manufacturing process of SISC0117.

[ Is it rude? No one's ever asked her that question before. They all just knew. ]

[noctiphile]

Oh-[He jumps a bit as she slips, reaching forward with open palms in a hope to catch her. When it's clear she doesn't need it, his hands retreat, if somewhat sheepishly.]

Manufactured? So you were made? That's-that's fantastic! And for there to be one thousand, four hundred and seventy more of you? Amazing. Although-I suppose it might not be for you. Individualism and all of that. If you value that at all. [He laughs, lightly.] Different cultures value different things.

[There's an awkward chuckle at the end of that sentence followed by a pause. A momentary realization. Smoothing his hair back, he smacks his head lightly.] Oh, where is my head? You gave me your name and I forgot to tell you my own. I'm Mattias. Mattias Larnaca. I'd shake your hand but... [Well.]

[pocketpal]

[ ELN tenses, gripping the wall, and leaps off of it, jumping like a spider and catching herself on his shirt. She gives him a poke in the throat. ]

I'm not a doll. I don't need catching.

[ Climbs herself up onto his shoulder. ]

And all genetic sequences were appropriately randomized beyond baseline. There are no ELNs exactly like me.

What is your function on the ship?

[noctiphile]

Right, of course, I didn't mean to imply-[He winces slightly at that poke to the throat.] I'm sure you're quite competent.

[Unfortunately, the rest of what she says goes right over his head. But that's fine. He files the words away for later. Things to research.] I'm the communications officer. Encryptions, decryptions, assorted messages, diplomacy.

[Although... he only just learned what most of those things are.] It's not something I have much experience in.

[pocketpal]

Well, I've never been a medic.

[ A somewhat unusual admittance of a lack of expertise. ]

But my cortical stack has been replaced before.

[ Not that this is quite the same thing. ]

What do you have experience in?

[noctiphile]

[His smile falters.] Nothing that's... applicable here. Although, [He taps the side of his head against the wall.] I guess you could call me a mapmaker. Or a researcher. Maybe even a detective.

[He laughs.] But none of those have much use here.

[pocketpal]

[ She sits on his shoulder. Perches, more like, as though she's ready to jump off again. ]

You don't have to stand so peculiarly. I'm perfectly secure.

Not that your clothes couldn't use a few more handholds.

I'm sure you'll find a way to be useful.

[noctiphile]

[He chuckles.]

Believe it or not, I find this way of standing comfortable. Although it'd be better on the ground. Do you mind? [Too bad, he's doing it anyway. Though he's careful to move steadily.]

And should I take that as an order? The handholds, not my usefulness. That, I expect, will grow in time.

[pocketpal]

[ There's a novelty in that - an order. She can give orders! ]

Yes. Make it an order.

[noctiphile]

[He laughs.]

As you wish, Captain. Although, I must say I'm fairly ignorant on how to make them better. Do you have any pointers?

[pocketpal]

Anything I can grip.

If they were going to make me captain, they could have made the ship a bit easier to access.

[noctiphile]

Simple enough.

[He laughs again, settling down in the seat.] That still might be something we could fix, though. Perhaps we could employ someone to retrofit the ship to your needs? You'd have to be patient, though.

[pocketpal]

Do I seem impatient? I'm not impatient.

[noctiphile]

You seem like a woman who values efficiency and expediency.

[pocketpal]

Oh. Yes. I am that.

[noctiphile]

[He grins.]

Then you will have to be patient.