driftfleet | [OPEN] mingle time for your starstruck pals

A.) BOW-WOW.

Easy enough today - give the dog a bath. Easier said than done. Rock the dog has never had a proper bath, and while Max has learned at least a semi-decent bathing schedule, Rock is not so keen to do the same. You may find a soaking wet dog hobbling through the ship on his bum leg, moving surprisingly fast for his age.

And trailing behind him with a towel and a mild scowl is Max.

... Well, it's not like he can't relate to Rock's desire to flee from a situation.

But he'd really prefer it not involve him.

Look out for water on the ground, guys.

B.) GOODBYE. | future-dated to Ahsoka's departure

Max is working on repairing one of the wheels of the shuttle from where it had skimmed a icy point down on the planet; he had a fondness for travelling around down there, but with unpredictable terrain it was easy o get a little bit of damage. Clearing the ice away and repairing the dented metal is easy enough, soothing enough.

But Max is still troubled, regardless.

If you're visiting, he may break the silence with unfortunate news.

"Ahsoka's left."

And it... doesn't upset him terribly, per se. He knows how important being able to let go of familiar faces is. It's important to know how to say goodbye, even when a goodbye isn't possible in the wake of how people up and vanish. He's dealt with other crew members leaving, too. FDR, for example. Ahsoka, though, leaves him in a bit of a solemn mood.

Just one way the crew's changed him (and he's not sure how to handle that).

He's not upset.

But he's not happy at all.

It makes him rather restless this week, too.

C.) (UN)SWEET DREAMS.

Have you ever been too close to Max when he has nightmares? Some know not to interrupt him while he slumbers. He's found a little resting spot in the shuttle where he often kicks up his feet and sleeps. Today, it's particularly bad, however - night terrors are not new to him, but sometimes they're fierce and unrelenting and he's at the mercy of it. His arms twitch and his expression pulls into a grimace. Sweat beads on his brow.

He whimpers, a coarse sound, buried in sand. Twitches. Flinches. His eyes dart behind his eyes. Heartbeat pitter-patters wildly. The kid he'd returned to her family waves at him from beyond the sand dunes, and he screams at her not to stay there, but his voice won't carry, won't even leave his throat. The buzzards drive so fast - they're coming and they're going to run her down.

Mr. Survivalist, you really must stop causing such a commotion, Peggy says, hands on her hips. She looks very much dead, a fist-sized hole in her skull as she addresses him. Other members of the Starstruck linger in the distance, equally worse for wear. He tries to move toward the kid anyway because someone has to make it out of this, but his feet sink with every step. Dry quick-sand, radioactive and sucking, pulling him down deep. His feet touch arms and legs under the earth.

Grab him, he hears rough men say. Hands grab him and his arms and legs darken purple under their palms, blood collecting hot under the skin.

Anyone who attempts to snap Max out of his terrible dream will be in for a terrible surprise. Probably in the form of Max's fist flying at them, accompanied by a feral and desperate yell of escape.

Edited 2017-01-03 12:00 (UTC)

[ it's been a busy few weeks for the starstruck. high highs and low lows. your captain has decided to cope with these vacillations by finding work in every corner. work, some might say, that doesn't quite exist. careful. she might rope you into it.

( inventory ) -- apart from crew quarters, peggy has started to systematically check through each room on the starstruck. she begins with the kitchen, hauling items out of cupboards and from the freezer. since losing their cook, she knows it falls on all their shoulders to make certain they have an appropriate amount of supplies on hand. her system is twofold: for now, she plans to make a hard copy of what's in stock -- but she also has her christmas gift from winn on hand (a little handwritten journal filled with how-tos for basic computer programming) to help her envision how she might implement a simple stocking program. this continues throughout the ship, and if she catches any idle crew she might try and recruit them: oi, does that tin have pears or peaches in?; didn't we once have a set of seven-pound weights in the recreation area -- where the devil are they?; i'm counting medkits, so have you got any stashed in your room?

( new year's resolutions ) -- not long ago, she had a bit of a playful tussle with steve in the gym-area of the shuttle bay. there was no bloody way peggy ever anticipated winning against steve with his enhancements, but flexing her ordinary strength against his extra-ordinariness certainly put certain things in perspective. she needs to be better. especially since she's fallen out of old habits; she hasn't been training, lately. that changes with the new year. peggy wakes up early and hits the treadmill for a short burst of cardio before heading over to the punching bag. her punching bag, practically, although everyone but steve is free to use. heaven help them if they should split it without replacing it. peggy ends these sessions drenched in sweat -- from her not-yet-curled hair down to the simple cotton shirt. if anyone else is awake on the starstruck (or visiting) they might catch her without her war-paint.

( first mate wanted ) -- ahsoka's gone. that means the starstruck is lacking in a first mate, and peggy is at a crossroads with where to take her decision. in theory, it needn't be her decision at all. but she hasn't felt any push-back from the crew about her choices thus far. the vacancy weighs heavily on her mind, and -- when she's not working too hard in every other corner of the ship -- she can be found scouring the fixtures in ahsoka's old room. by whatever grace the atroma allows, the place is already spotless. yet here she is, cleaning it anyway. ]

Edited 2017-01-03 15:27 (UTC)

[ she knows she knows better. she really does. peggy knows from experience earned long before meeting max that shifting a man in the middle of his night-terrors is asking for trouble. but she's just retreated from the punching bag -- loose hair and sweat on her skin. she can hear him from outside the shuttle. ]

Max? [ she speaks his name with more comfort than she used to. like she maybe might even know him, now, and treasure his name because of it. peggy ducks her head and enters the shuttle. she takes a seat on the passenger's side -- canting her upper-body back against the chair. her muscles are all alive and aching after her workout. she takes a moment; waits; wonders if he'll settle.

when he doesn't, she proceeds gently. more like a fellow soldier than anything else, she presses her palm gingerly against the top of his head. the way she'd seen the commandos do when knocking their fellows' helmets in careful congratulations. ] Max. It's time to wake up.

[ she knows she risks his instincts when she does this but -- damn, this dream seems (from the outside) to be particularly bad. ]

[Furiosa still comes around about once a week to ensure Max has an actual meal, bringing over simple things that aren't protein paste; meat bartered and bought from waypoints and planets, fruits and vegetables grown on her own ship or from the Iskaulet.]

[She's making her way to the shuttle she knows Max likes to nap in, when she hears the skittering of nails and a wet cur goes hobbling by her followed by a scowling Max.]

Need any help there, Fool?

[Max's eyes snap open after a terrible rasping gasp, like she might as well have burned him with her touch - moments after she puts a hand to his head the panic stumbles in and he's moving before he's even really awake. One fist swings wildly, the muscles taut and fear flashing in his distant eyes. He's still not awake. He's fighting - not Peggy, but he's fighting, and Peggy's face is right in the way of that fight - no, that flight. He just wants to escape whatever dark place is pulling him in.

The growl is for show; it's threadbare defiance or perhaps a sad attempt to chase away the terror that is clearly coiled up all around him. Whatever happened in his dream wasn't pleasant; a jagged tear dashed across his cheekbone. Loss, bitter terrible loss that is both destructive and inescapable. Somewhere in his head, he's living it and there's a little girl who is crushed and discarded in the sand, and if Max weren't fighting the enemy he could have given her a fair burial -

Peggy just better be ready for more than one wild swing if she doesn't act against the first.

After all, he's good at struggling.]

[ -- his knuckles catch her on the curve of her cheek: somewhere in the flat plane just beside her brow but not quite her eye socket. something splits; she hears a ringing in her head. peggy curses hoarse and sudden beneath her breath. and when she acts, it's on instinct and with the sprightly flood of adrenaline still in her body after a session spent punching the bag hanging out in the shuttle bay. ordinarily, she'd like to think she'd react better. but in the end, sometimes a stiff right hook is the best way to defuse a situation. ]

Max. [ sterner, this time, as her head reels backwards and the vision in one eye blurs. peggy shoves a hand hard against his chest while she positions herself better in the cramped cockpit. he flails, still, and throws another fist in her direction (this time, she manages to avoid it). but he's showing no sign of stopping, so she cocks her right hand and lets it fall hard on his jaw. ] Stop it. Now.

[ and that's an order. ]

[Furiosa still comes around about once a week to check in on Max, bring him a meal, leave him some assorted foodstuffs, make sure he's doing alright. She's stopping in the kitchen to stash a couple containers marked with MAX in big black letters. She stops in the doorway, seeing Peggy admist all of the tins and boxes.]

Am I coming at a bad time?

[ she's on the floor -- reaching into the back of a floor cupboard. but at the sound of furiosa's voice, peggy grips the counter's edge and finds her feet. she looks well enough, except for the split brow on one side of her face. it's been perfunctorily bandaged, but the bloom of an initial bruise is beginning to rim her eye. ]

No. Not a bad time -- merely a busy one. [ peggy nods at the containers. ] The usual care package?

The usual.

[Furiosa walks in and slides it onto the table, looking at Peggy's battle wound with peaked eyebrows.] That's a new look for you.

More like a very old look. One I haven't had to wear in a while. [ she cracks a tired smile. wipes dust off her palms. ] I went and poked a bear.

[Wanda hadn't seen Peggy in a little while, but it's only now that her memories have returned (at least almost entirely) that she's become aware of this. She decides to try and pay Peggy a visit as well as the other members of the Starstruck crew that she hasn't seen in a while. She finds Peggy cleaning an empty bunk room which already seemed spotless to Wanda's eyes. It takes her a second, standing in the doorway and surveying the room, to realize -- Ahsoka had gone home.]

[She takes another second to swallow that particular bit of regret, and then softly knocks on the inside of the open doorway. Her body weight leaning up against the opposite side of the door-frame. She tries to seem as calm and nonchalant as she can. Not sure how Peggy is currently feeling about things, or how much she knows about what had been going on with Wanda.]

[Near the top of her list of people Wanda wanted to see now that her memories had returned (almost entirely) was Max. She had not spoken with him in what seemed like forever, and she wanted to try and possibly explain her weird behavior the past three weeks or so. She doesn't have to look for too long, the soggy, hobbling dog and his scowlly faced towel bearer are easy to spot bumbling down the hall after each other.]

[Wanda puts herself in front of them, dropping down to rest on her knees to reign in Rock -- keep him mollified with some good 'ol behind the ear scratches she now remembers he loves so much -- and allow Max to catch up to the three-legged canine.]

Who's a good boy? Huh? [She giggles as Rock attempts to shake himself dry, splattering Wanda with water.] Good to see you too, Rock.

[Her smile dips a little as she looks up from the dog to his owner. She's not really sure how much Max has known about what's been going with her. Hell, she's having a hard time remembering exactly what the last thing they talked about even was.]

Hello, Max.

Edited 2017-01-03 18:15 (UTC)

[She leans back against the counter, crossing her arms. Her new prosthetic has taken some getting used to - far more in the manner of an actual human arm than her previous iterations (and sharing some faint resemblance to Bucky's, where Tyrion got its inspiration).]

Do I happen to know this bear?

[There's a faint pull at the corner of her lips.]

-- Ship's starting to feel a bit emptier, isn't it?

[ peggy retreats from her 'work' and turns to face wanda. she hasn't bothered doing much to conceal a nasty, blooming bruise on her temple. but nor does she seem too hampered by it -- after all she meets the young woman with crooked (albeit rueful) smile.

she intends to be gentle, knowing what she knows about wanda's current state of flux. ]

[ she notes the arm -- gives it a nod -- and then confirms what furiosa suspects: ] You know him well enough to feed him. But it's no fuss. I stuck my nose where it didn't belong, evidently, and then whooped him in return. We're square, him and I.

[ she suspects the guilt will linger on in max for a few days longer, but she can handle it. ]

At least you can give as good as you get.

[You won't hear Furiosa complaining about you beating her friend. She knows life with Max can be rough.] Want any advice, for dealing with him?

By all means -- [ a tilt of her palm. ] Advise me.

[Max both hears her and doesn't; the heart beneath Peggy's palm is hammering at a terrible pace, like a jackhammer, saturated full of panic. The punch to the jaw startles him more awake, and by the time he's got a fistful of her collar he seems to have come around. He stares for a moment, a slight trickle of blood sliding down a dumbfounded, slack lip. His jaw throbs. He looks at her head - the top of it, looking for something that's not there. No hole. No brain or blood or inky black death.

He pulls back as if burned for a moment, brow furrowed, body shivering involuntarily, violently. There's a great veil of confusion around him.]

The kid's okay?

[Kid, kiddo, the mute girl, the one he delivered safely back to the family.

His head whips around, looking out the window, at the inside of the shuttle, his shoulders nothing but tension. He looks like he wants to run, but he at the very least doesn't. He just sits and vibrates and clenches his teeth to try and settle himelf. This one was nasty, real nasty, the kind that makes fissures in his brain, makes him irresponsible, unreliable. He curses under his breath and tries to calm himself.]

... Crew's okay...

[Right? You're all alive, right? No one is sinking. He's -

He can't look at her as he talks; he knows where the injury she has came from.]

[The look he gives her is so very deadpan, pointing at the vanishing mutt.]

He's worse than me.

[And he's leaving water everywhere.

This is what I get for trying to be a decent pet owner.]

[Max admittedly had been more determined to give Wanda room than anything. After all, he knows what it's like, to have your memories messed around with. She hadn't been herself - and Max respected that, let her handle it. Not that he didn't have his concerns; lord knows this crew is ruining him. When he sees her, he's unsure how to approach, but she makes it infinitely easier to do so.

Even if his name is still so, so strange falling out of anyone's mouth.

Rock is more than content, grumpy old mutt that he is, with using Wanda as a means to evade Max's grasp. He surrenders, for the moment.]

... You doing, nnm. Better?

[He figures she'll get the idea why he's asking.]

[ a skein of blood -- in three thin, diverging rivulets -- drips past her eye. peggy cuffs it clean(ish), leaving a red smudge on her temple. she's nearly on top of him, her arm like a bar against his chest in case she needs to continue trying to hold him down.

the kid? she frowns. trying to trace this line of inquiry, but she comes up with nothing but dead-ends and old leads. the girl from the hotel, maybe? peggy is quick to nod. ]

We're fine. Bloody fine, you div. [ despite present evidence to the contrary. despite ahsoka's departure. despite a lot of things, because it's been obvious there's something else brewing beneath captain america's surface for the last few days. ] Present and accounted for. Whatever happened, it's only a dream.

[ but she doesn't let him loose. not yet. peggy doesn't yet trust him not to take another swing. ]

[Not fine. It wasn't fine, a moment ago. He scrubs an arm across his face, to wipe away both the thin veil of sweat and the clinging tear that threatens to fall - it's just a relic, really, crying. It happens when he dreams, sometimes. When things feel as hopeless as they ever could be. Mostly when he dreams of Jessie and Sprog, though. Rarely, but sometimes, he wakes up with pools in the shells of his ears. Wakes up on a rock in the desert where he had bundled himself up and realizes they're still dead. Twenty years and it still reminds him he's powerless.

He shifts uncomfortably at the closeness of Peggy, of her arm there, flinching to the side to try and release her paranoid hold on him. He wants to run, but he doesn't - can't - do that anymore. It would do nothing.

Fine, she says. Fine. His eyes move not to her actual wound, but back to the crown of her head again. He is a div, yeah, definitely, but he also was very sure she was in a bad way. Very sure she'd die. His eyes glance sparingly at the wound, and he looks mildly ashamed.

He struggles to try words, the shaking more bearable now. Enough to unclench pinkish teeth that taste like pennies.]

Didn't mean to.

[ she waits until he's stiller. waits until she thinks she can trust him not to bolt and not to flail. then -- with an exasperated huff -- she retreats back to the passenger's side. whatever immediate shame he feels for having hit her, peggy doesn't share in it. she's certain he's suffered worse, and from less friendly sources than herself. maybe, had it been someone else, she might have entertained a sliver of guilt. ]

I know. [ she scrunches her nose. ] It's not so bad. I've had badder from my brother during friendly fights in the back-yard.

[ doesn't matter whether it's true or not. all that matters is that she establishes a baseline of trust and forgiveness with him -- alluding to a family connection; looping into that same category. peggy eyes his split lip and wishes she had a handkerchief. ]

I should've let you sleep it off.

[ but this one had seemed so bad. her heart had bled. she hadn't been able to endure the sight of that much slumbering suffering. ]

[She chuckles - she can't argue there - but she sets the food down and lopes after him in pursuit.]

True, but 'Fool' was taken.

[Wanda nods. It was hard not to feel somber about it.]

I wish I could have said goodbye...

[Wanda then winces when she sees the bruise.]

Do you want me to fetch you an ice pack or something?

[OPEN] mingle time for your starstruck pals

OTA | CW for some gore in a dream sequence, we need more of those bad boys.

ota.

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Bow-Wow

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Action; Ahsoka's room

A) Doggy bathing time!

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