driftfleet | April System Mingle

[ she nods -- agreeable enough, except: ] California can bugger right off, however. Too bloody hot.

[ and everyone eats avocados :c so weird. ]

[Again, Rip huffs out a quiet sound that's almost a laugh.]

That does take a fair deal more getting used to, yes. [Even thinking himself an American, "Phil" never had much tolerance for the heat--and yet for the sake of his movie, continued to push himself. It's still rather strange to think back on that time, and the memories that weren't quite his.] And it's an even greater distance from home. Another opportunity, I'll take it?

[ time, she supposes, to thread a sliver of truth into the mix: ] A friend, actually. At times it works to one's benefit to have made nice with the sort of person who owns their own private jet and a film lot just outside Los Angeles.

[ -- not that she likes movies. not that she even flew there on one of stark's planes. but 'i've got a filthy rich friend' is easier to say than 'i work for an intelligence agency'. ]

I flew out there for a visit. Rather wish I hadn't; it seems I wasn't missing much.

--I can see where it would. [Speaking of things that his poor alter-ego would have killed for. Even before the inflation that would plague the later years of the twentieth century and beyond, that's a rather impressive list of things to possess.] One of those Americans you mentioned earlier, I'll take it?

[An inspiration to her--or a provider of resources.

And yet, in the end? Peggy had been unimpressed. Rip raises his eyebrows briefly.] I suppose that would be determined by what you're looking for in such ventures.

-- Not really, no. [ a crinkle of her nose. ] The man in question was never a soldier, but a civilian contractor. A scientist. Although he's got just enough hubris to call himself a futurist, instead.

[ and there's always been room for brilliant minds to advance during the war years. ] American, yes, but in the grand scheme of things our paths don't cross so often. But I am rather fond of the man's butler.

[ then, with a hitch of honesty: ] He's actually here in the Fleet as well. The butler, I mean. Named Edwin Jarvis. Best scones you could ever hope for.

Just enough. [And the fact that he was purposely contracted by the government likely gives some credence to the claim--not to mention the aforementioned wealth. Whatever label he prefers, this unknown person is likely quite successful in his field.

For better or worse, considering what one might succeed at when war is the context.

It's perhaps more telling, however, when Peggy openly admits her friendship with one Edwin Jarvis, considering how carefully she's kept other details hidden thus far. A butler with a penchant for cooking: the description warrants a soft sigh from Rip.]

I might wind up needing to ask for his advice, then. [He winces; now it's his turn to admit something he'd really rather not.] Apparently whatever powers decided my position on the Caprine thought I would somehow be best placed in the role of cook, of all things.

[It's really frustrating, considering that Rip's experience would lend itself better to literally every other role.]

You're in luck, then. He's the ideal fleet-mate to ask. He is himself designated a pilot by the Atroma, but that doesn't stop him from cooking and baking. [ ... ] He lends his talents to one of the bars on the Iskaulit -- they've got a meager menu, but it's all the more enriched for his participation.

[ she praises the man quite comfortably. this, at least, is not a sore spot for her.

and, just in time, they reach the short-range shuttle she'd left parked not far from the city proper. peggy keys a code to unlock its doors and gestures rip inside. ]

If he manages to make anything decent out of those gel rations, then he's nothing short of a miracle worker. [The day might come with Rip is actually not bitter about this particular aspect of this situation--actually, no. Scratch that. The day will never come, especially since Rip can't help but feel some sort of obligation to the people he's been stranded on a ship with to actually fulfill his assigned role. It's why as much of what he earns for himself doing odd jobs is meant to buy what he can for the kitchen. These people aren't Legends, nor is he their Captain--yet Rip cannot help the sense of loyalty that tugs at him all the same.

No doubt the aforementioned group of heroes stands to blame for it. Really, things were so much easier when Rip could work alone.

He steps into the shuttle once she's got the door open; it's the same size as the ones on the Caprine, so it's simple enough to take a seat. Given that it's Peggy shuttle, he assumes she'll prefer to pilot it, so the controls are all hers.]

[ she's certainly no pilot -- but the auto-function works as well as anything else, and she engages it with practiced ease once the hatches are shut and they're both strapped in. in addition, she seems to pause a moment to tap a brief message into her communications device. ]

He's working with a touch more than the gels, admittedly. [ she monitors the shuttle's lift-off, then: ] Has the Caprine not got stores beyond its standard issue proteins? If not, I'm certain something could be arranged.

[ she doesn't offer charity so much as a trade. ]

[Auto-pilot, he supposes, as Peggy seems focused very little on the controls once she puts in the initial commands. What's more curious is that momentary delay to play her fingers along her device—although given that she's leaving the asteroid, perhaps it's only to tell the aforementioned Steve not to worry.]

Oh, they do. [He admits it quietly, not going so far as to say they're actually well stocked and there's plenty for Rip to work with. He mulls it over for a moment, then gives up the real reason.] It's more my frustration causing the complaints. While I could wish for quite a few changes, I've certainly seen worse situations so far as food goes.

[Undesirable though it might be, they aren't left to starve. That alone is a positive in Rip's eyes.]

Eugene Woods, from the Wonderduck, makes bread and rotgut. [ she delivers these tidbits with a cool voice, attempting to communicate little more than a lack of complication. ] Once, he even rustled me up a flat of smoked kippers. Bless him.

[ -- then, to loop back around to her point as the shuttle departs. ] Crew looks after crew, of course, but the community manages to come together quite effectively. It's not home. I know it's not home. But it feels a damned lot like home when I think about how some of us used to circumvent rationing.

From the sounds of it, you've got a number of resources at your disposal. [She knows of alcohol and tea, delicious scones and now fresh bread. For Rip, who is just learning where one might find anything aboard a single ship, it's an impressive list.

One that's mean to paint a pretty picture, he realizes once she continues on. He's yet to think of himself as so much a part of this community, even if he's ready to accept his place as part of a crew. The last time he'd been in anything even resembling the situation she describes had been during his employment as a Time Master--

And considering he wound up helping blow that group up, it's likely not the closest comparison one might find.]

I suppose there is comfort to be found in knowing this group finds reliance on each other.

Doubtless, there are outliers. [ in many respects, peggy has been one herself with how she interacts with the rest of the fleet. she does not open her arms to them wholesale, but rather learns person by persona and ship by ship who to trust. who to watch. who to call when the chips are down. ]

As communities go, I'd describe this one as atypical in its sense of togetherness. Camaraderie. [ even the thick bonds made in war could be more complex and soured than some of these. plenty in the fleet are too kind; too giving. when some of them start to talk at length about themselves, it makes peggy cringe. ] But they're good people. Most of them.

There always are. [As Rip suspects he himself would be. There is a certain loyalty required, he thinks, by sharing a ship with certain fellows--but to act contrary to that would equally be to one's own disservice. There are already records of the fleet being attacked.

But how far that would ultimate extend, he would have to see. Rip's only very recently gotten used to working with a team, after all.

...One he'd left shortly before being recruited onto this strange voyage.

Still. Even with so little knowledge of Peggy's background, Rip thinks he can trust her judgment in this regard. He doubts it's one she would offer up lightly.]

One of the few benefits to be found among the circumstances, I suppose.

Among others. Although I suspect you won't see them as benefits at all.

[ -- she got a read on that fairly early on, during their initial conversation. she could crow on about the wonder of learning computer programming despite hailing from a year where computers barely existed. but she expects he'll see it as an affront, considering how he'd talked about timelines before. ]

--Or even if they are, I'll likely find significant downside to mitigate their impact.

[Hey, Rip's at least a little self-aware. Even if Peggy hadn't been so entirely on the mark about her thoughts regarding Rip and his opinions of the technology made available to them, he's got a rather strong talent for always seeing the darker aspects of any given situation.]

I suppose, however--[He presses his mouth together momentarily, attempting to decide how much of a concession he's willing to make.]--that there is value in finding the positive aspects of our predicament.

It's one of the greatest sins, I fear, to fail to adapt. [ to times; to circumstances; to company. although if pressed, she'd know she's sinned that sin a few times already. peggy pulls out her comms device and checks it with a mild smile. ]

-- I've just warned my pilot that we're incoming. He doesn't do well with strangers. With any luck, he'll make himself a bit scarce before we land.

An interesting perspective. [But then again, given that so many people whom Rip has spoken to have confessed to "settling" into life as the fleet presents it, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised.

Still. He has to ask.] And are you guilty of that sin, Miss Carter?

[Said as she pauses to check her device; Rip waits until she tucks it away again to continue.]

Ah. That's rather unfortunate, given that you could have a stranger showing up to stay periodically.

[ rather than enumerate sins of any sort, she offers only a thinly-veiled look. suggesting, perhaps, that he should know better than to push buttons when being escorted to someone else's home turf. ]

Unfortunate? Yes. But that's life for you. [ a flick of a switch. the starstruck's in sight, and the bay's waiting. ] It's safe enough so long as you give him his space. And so long as you're good to his dog.

[Dangerous though it might be, it's hard to tell if her wariness is due to her guilt or innocence in that regard. Still, Rip can recognize a line when he sees it (sometimes); in this case, with not only tea but the companionship of a woman who by Rip's estimation is reasonable, well-informed, and resourceful at stake, it's clearly the smarter move to keep his mouth shut about it.

At least for the present.

He barely casts a glance to the ship they now approach; for Rip, such dockings are old hat. Instead he considers her warning about the as-of-yet unnamed pilot.] I suppose I'll have to keep both of those things in mind.

[…]

Not that I would have been mean to the dog anyway. [Bollocks, that had come out entirely wrong.]

His name's Rock. [ oh, wait. now she's the one who might have misspoke. as the shuttle locks itself firmly in place, peggy expounds: ] The dog, I mean. The dog is named Rock and the pilot is named Max. Although -- you didn't hear that from me.

[ a slightly knowing look. she's aware it verges on a headache. but peggy's fond of max. he's a deeply damaged and hurting man. as much as she needles him, she'll go to great lengths to safeguard him wherever she can.

eventually, the shuttle doors open with a puff of equalized air. ]

Welcome aboard the Starstruck, Mister Hunter.

Edited 2017-05-10 21:53 (UTC)

[…Is it terrible that Rip finds some level of comfort in that?]

Oh, you needn't worry, Ms. Carter. I'm rather good when it comes to keeping secrets.

[When the situation calls for it.

Once they're docked Rip heads towards the doors, although he's sure to let Peggy exit first. It's her ship, after all. After they're both off he takes a look around the bay—not entirely different from what he's seen aboard the Caprine.

Although the shuttles don't seem to have been painted so vibrantly, at least.]

Thank you for having me. [He slips his hands into his pockets. No sign of pilot or companion, so it's indeed likely that the man got Peggy's message. Just them, then, and Rip nods towards his host, silently indicating that he's ready to proceed.]

Is that so? [ a cheeky rejoinder, maybe, but she's in her element now. home pitch advantage, as the footballers say. ] I find the first one to pipe up he's good with secrets tends to have the loosest lips.

[ but then again, peggy might be saying so only to see how far she can go before getting a rise out of her countryman. she heads for the wide bay doors which lead to a sleek and near-gleaming hallway. despite the odd glitzy quality to the ship's architecture, it's general layout remains the same as the bulk of the fleet.

so it's not far to the kitchen, where she waves him into a seat at the narrow galley table. ]

[Unfortunately, if it's Rip ire she's after Peggy won't find it down this tack. While if her surmise held any truth Rip might indeed feel some defensive need to insist on what he's said, as things stand he merely shrugs a shoulder.]

I suppose time will tell, won't it?

[He memorizes the path readily enough, though more by force of habit than any expectation he'll find himself suddenly needing to run out on his own--never hurts to be prepared, however. They don't need long to get to the kitchen, and Rip takes a seat when she motions for him to--although not without making the polite offer.]

Would you like some help? My complaints about my apparent job aside, I can manage a few things in a kitchen.

[And without breaking anything at that! Probably.]

[ -- oh. even within the much kinder confines of the fleet, she only rarely comes across an offer to lend a hand. most people (understandably) allow the host to take the duty onto themselves for such a minor piece of hospitality. but peggy, holding more than a few grudges over hot beverages and the expectations surrounding who ought to make them, finds herself quietly appreciative of his words.

it stalls her for a moment. she gutters, trying to work her way around a polite refusal while also genuinely entertaining the possibility that she could enlist his help. when the silence begins to strain, her fingers curl around the kettle's handle.

she announces: ] There are biscuits in the tin. Er, beside the microwave oven. [ a glance over her shoulder. ] I don't normally like to share them but -- if you plate them, I suppose I could stomach parting with a few.

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