driftfleet | video + text + action

Entry tags:

video + text + action

Who: Peggy Carter & YOU
Broadcast: Y, fleetwide.
Action: Aboard the Starstruck, if you like.
When: Today.

[ a video feed flickers to life, and fights for a moment to adequately focus on its subject. peggy carter sits in the kitchen aboard the starstruck, cup of tea and her elbow and half a biscuit in her hand. dabbing at crumbs, she sets her food aside and offers the network a bright smile. ]

That message -- the ominous one, in the bizarre language? It put me in mind of the sort of cryptograms and puzzles you might see in the Sunday paper. [ her expression is cheery enough, although she's not being wholly honest about her interest in such games. she won't be the one to say the words bletchley and park.] I loved them. Them, and crosswords. I thought maybe some of you might like them, too. [ ... ] We could do a few together. I'm not saying we all join a club, exactly, but back home they were always better solved in good company.

Let's start you off with one that's easy enough. But there's no shame in needing a hint, if needed. For what it's worth, the text I'm attaching is, in its deciphered form, English -- not yet certain how the augments' translation will handle it. We'll see.

BLSTKBC YLBSFKGISRX XL QIYT SL SFVBWIKAKJR STR QKBZ VX V XSRVZU EIFELXR — V ELKBS LB OTKYT STR XLIA QVU NKM KSX KBSRAARYSIVA RUR.

[ -- and then an afterthought: ]

...By chance, has anyone been brewing their own beer?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's fair. What are you bartering?

(And what are you making with yeast extract, anyway? Marmite?)

Which ship are you on? What might you need? The Starstruck has collected a lot over the last year.

(And yes, exactly. Marmite.)

I'm on the Wonderduck, and I'm always happy to accept novel food/ingredients/seasonings, entertainment media (books especially), men's clothing, and trades of more sugar and flour rations. I'm also looking to commission any artists who are used to putting designs on metal, if you know anyone who fits the bill in that regard.

(And if I find brewers yeast and malt you'll be the first to know.)

Food's difficult for us to trade on the Starstruck, as we've got a few in the crew with abnormal appetites. Unless you'd like some meat. We have a lot of meat. All well-packed, albeit frozen once it was caught and cleaned.

[ she ponders a moment whether the hawk steve out as a possible artist -- but then again, it seems cruel to do so without a bit of conversation she holds her peace on that front.

instead: ] ...Could I interest you in some men's grooming products? Long story cut very short, I have an abundance of shaving creams.

[ don't ask. or do. ]

Edited 2016-12-04 23:56 (UTC)

[Oh, hey, now there's an untold story. He makes a mental note to ask once they meet to trade.]

That works for me. A chunk of meat and some shaving cream for . . . let's say half a litre of the 80 proof?

Meat, and two cans. For a tidy full litre, if you can spare it. Hell, I'll throw in a razor.

[ max will never use it all. truth be told, she's not even going to ask before she takes what the sponsor gifts gave him not-so-long-ago. ]

Deal. When should I come by with the refreshments?

Does soon suit you? I've an appointment tonight, but until then it's only me and my tea.

Soon suits me fine. Let me get this packaged and I'll be right over.

[Time to make sure he has a one-litre . . . something.]

I'll meet you in the cargo bay. If I'm not there, do wait. But if you see a sulking walking-bruise of a man grumbling to himself by one of the shuttles, try and ignore him. It's for the best.

Right, I'll do my best to contain my curiosity. See you soon.

[And about ten minutes later, he's off, piloting a shuttle around to the Starstruck. It's more comfortable since he started zooming around delivering baked goods, but he's still glad to dock and step out into the cargo bay of the Starstruck, rucksack swung over a gingham-clad shoulder, reasonably denim-like trousers going down to a serviceable boot on one side and a rolled to expose the plating and hooked foot of a prosthetic leg on the other. Delivering moonshine always feels less sketchy when he's dressed in something nicer than crew coveralls.]

[ for her part, peggy looks more apt to belong in a nice office-building than to a spaceship. she's in a pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. classically fashionable, from her lipstick down to her black pumps. luckily, no other business drags her from the hangar -- and so she's waiting for him with a mild near smile on her face.

he's got his rucksack, and she's got a basket cradled under one arm. as such, they're just about free enough to shake hands once he's off his shuttle. ]

Peggy, by the way. Peggy Carter. [ ... ] Welcome aboard.

[In the video he'd seen the blouse, of course, the lipstick and smoothed-neat hair. But the entire picture she paints, standing with a posture that doesn't have to waste effort being perfect, is . . . not deja vu, exactly. Not nostalgia, either. It's somewhere between the two, eerily reminiscent of a world he's lost twice over: once with the apocalypse, and then even the remnants swept away when he was dragged here. Even though he knows they're trading goods, for half a second it feels like he's landed his ship and opened the door onto five years ago, like he landed in Heathrow yesterday and what's waiting on the other side of that handshake is the familiarity of light conversation and steady work. It puts something a little off-balance in his smile, though he returns the handshake with a polite firmness, more conscious of appearances than ever.]

Eugene Woods - Eugene is fine. Thanks for coming down to meet me.

[ her smile stays. but it's distant -- almost fixed in its politeness, like she can't stomach being any friendlier than the moment requires. if she warms at all, then it's only because she sees a note of something in his expression.

something she can't quite name. hmm. curious. ]

Eugene, then. [ she tilts the box under her arm, displaying the two cans, a disposable razor, and what looks like four good steaks of an undetermined meat -- all wrapped in a waxy paper. ] Are you in a hurry? If your not, I'll offer you a cup of tea.

[ just warm enough in her invitation. easy to accept; easy to refuse. ]

Oh, well. I can't say no to a cup of tea.

[Businesslike. He can respect that; heck, he'd almost be disappointed in a way if she wasn't. But he gives a crook of a grin anyway, gesturing for her to lead the way. The toiletries and the steaks are tempting, but not half as much as this strange, disorienting kind of normalcy.]

After you.

Brilliant. [ it's like a diplomatic branch -- creating careful webs between ships. peggy's convinced the ships of the fleet will, if pressed even only a little, come together in a strong union. but that doesn't stop her from feeling the weighty duty of her captaincy: to know the other ships, to know their crews, and try to puzzle apart their best faces and their worst.

to this length, she gladly ushers him down the long hall between the cargo bay and the kitchen. once inside, she makes a line straight for the kettle. ] Sam Winchester, over on the Red Fish, furnished me with these tea leaves. They're better than whatever powdery rubbish the Atroma gives us.

Wow. I'm not even sure we get access to the powdery rubbish, honestly.

[He follows her without complaint and takes a seat at the galley table, unslinging his pack and withdrawing two carefully cloth-wrapped jars. The larger one is, as promised, full of a clear spirit. The smaller one - and it's much smaller, containing perhaps a few shots - holds a translucent dark-brown liquid.]

Where did Sam find decent tea all the way out here? Did he say?

He's growing his own -- he's a man with green thumbs, one presumes. [ peggy puts the kettle on with a quick, instinctive movement. like she's done it a hundred times before. but when she turns around, she's greeted with the sight of eugene with his two jars. the larger one she recognizes. but the other? ]

Hm. [ she taps its lid. ] What's this, then?

Proof of concept. If you have contacts who are growing herbs or fruit, this stuff infuses like a charm.

[He unscrews the lid until it's just lightly resting on the rim, then holds it up in offering, for her to smell or taste as she wishes.]

Basic coffee liqueur. Steeped for about eighteen hours, then filtered and sweetened with sugar.

[ -- another hum. she wraps her fingers around the jar and lifts it near her nose. peggy sniffs, and at least manages not to make a face despite her personal distaste for coffee. instead, she smiles...not simply because of the ingenuity of it, but because she knows a few people who might appreciate a coffee liqueur.

curious, of course, she takes a sip. a-hem. ] Marvelous. I can imagine the combinations quite readily. How long have you been working on this?

On the infusing? A few weeks. [More of a hobby project than anything, and he gives an idle shrug that says as much, pleased by her response.]
The real trial and effort was distilling and filtering the base spirit into something palatable before I started playing with it.

You're a credit to your ship. [ she sniffs the concoction once again before she returns it to him so he can seal it up once more. ] And I could see myself coming back for more.

You're too kind.

[He huffs a laugh, tightening the lid and putting it back alongside the agreed-upon litre of no-frills space vodka.]

I've been thinking about moving operations into the Iskaulit. If only so I don't keep moonshining around a bunch of kids.

Not a terrible idea -- not least of all because of the potential for accidents. [ she grabs two mugs from the cupboard and tips them right-side up on the counter. ] Although, I'd suggest keeping it on the opposite side of the ship to the shooting range.

Oh, yeah. I'm pretty sure no one is going to thank me if I put it too close to anything else. Especially if I do get the materials to start branching out into brewing proper.

[One small pot still in the cargo bay? Manageable. But the smell's going to be something else entirely if he starts working at a higher volume.]

Do you seriously want yeast extract to make your own marmite?

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you're* i knew i shouldn't have done that last tag before bed.

oh geez I didn't even notice

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