( open ) may-mingling for those struck by stars

[uprightness]

Who: starstruck crew & visitors
Broadcast: N/A
Action: on board the SS Starstruck
When: Throughout May

[ There's a fancy ball coming up so better get those dresses, tuxedos and guns ready. also there's still a ton of pumpkin-themed food all over the place, enjoy alla that. ]

Comments

( steve rogers ✮ ota )

[uprightness]

( 001; general )

[ may brings with it the understanding that a year has come and gone since he first arrived on the fleet. after being glitched during the last weeks of april and while he has no physical need for it, he starts on a routine once again, returning from jogs on the planet just to hit the treadmill. it's not that he had managed to forget any of that, it's not that his body needs to get used to strength again.

but it does give him some peace of mind.

so steve could be found either starting or returning from a work-out session. the arrival of the invitations and the information which preceded them makes him even more on edge. it's been a while since they've had a mission, after all. still, this comes with so little intel that he can't help spending precious time at the weaponry, making sure all the pistols are clean and working.

at all other times, he could be found in the kitchen, bent over either a book or a doodle of the asteroid's landscape. ]

( 002; wildcard;)

[ visitors + anything else goes here. ]

[mucked]

[ mid-afternoon, and peggy's in a rare moment of repose. although she, too, has been put on alert due to the invitation, she wears it well. and today sees her cradling a mug of tea (what else?) while leaning by the shuttle bay doors. you see, gentle readers, she knows when steve takes his treadmill sessions.

and she's not shy about playing the spectator.

indeed, despite the ball on the horizon and a conked-out jarvis in a coma, peggy's been in unusually decent spirits. perhaps her birthday actually cheered her up this year. or, maybe, she's not yet been able to shake the afterglow from about mid-april, last month. so she watches him from across the room, eyes up and just above the rim of her teacup. ]

Don't you ever sweat? [ she launches a salvo of colour commentary from the sidelines. ] It's not fair.

[ and maybe, just maybe, her attention drifts to his shoulders. broad, again, and notably unbruised. ]

[uprightness]

[ it's not that needs to get back in shape. he never needed it the first time, either. he embraced his new-found strength and took it on an immediate test-run, seeing the situation was nothing short of dire.

but it's the mission coupled with the weeks of being his old self again that leaves a mental need to make sure everything is as it used to be.

so far, so good.

unlike the punching bags in the gym aboard the iskaulit, the treadmill was meant for human use, rather than for those with enhanced speed. so even on the most demanding of settings, he makes the whole thing look like a lazy jog. ]

Not from this.

[ he grins at her, seemingly just fine with this manner of multitasking. ]

Maybe if we got an upgraded one.

[mucked]

Don't you dare. [ but her protest isn't so vehement that she so much as abandons the way she leans against the wall. indifferent, almost, except in how her gaze stays sharp and pinned to him. ] Muck with what's here, and I might find myself left in the dust of a gym that's outpaced me. I get that enough from you, thank you very much.

[ not that she's complaining. but she'd just enjoyed two weeks of being able to best him just about every physical way. adjusting, afterward, hasn't been easy. but it has been fun. ]

[uprightness]

Don't think I can ever outpace you.

[ not in any way that really counts. it's still not his favorite pastime, running inside rather than enjoying an early morning sun and fresh air but it serves a purpose.

he's very much aware that she's looking at him. it's been years since they've been in this sort of scene and back then, he was the last of the group when it came to running, not the first. ]

Not really, anyway.

oo1;;

[reconstitution]

[ It's not often that Bucky manages to visit the Starstruck, but after Steve's glitch, he feels the need to check in on him. Old habits are the hardest to break after getting comfortable with someone. It had been a little unsettling and a lot relieving, seeing Steve like that. He'll never admit to it,of course.

He manages to find Steve in the armory, cleaning weapons. He doesn't say anything, simply occupies the space until Steve notices him. Watching the way he's invested in the task. ]

[uprightness]

[ bucky's presence is always a silent one. steve has gotten used to it, the quiet coming and going of his best friend. the arrivals are, naturally, his favorite parts. one moment everything is the same, the next, he feels his presence, looks up. ]

Hi.

[reconstitution]

Hi.

[ He doesn't step into the armory, opting to give Steve his space and lean against the doorway. ]

Need any help? [ Of course he doesn't, but doesn't stop himself from asking. ]

[uprightness]

Yeah, why not.

[ it's clear he doesn't really, it's the proximity he's after. he shuffles to the side, making room for bucky to sit next to him if he'd like. ]

Just checking that everything is ready. I figure those might come in handy sometime soon.

[ the ball. ]

wildcard!

[directed]

[While the tea had in fact been quite pleasant, it's actually the broadcast from the self-proclaimed fleet of allies that has Rip contacting Peggy again. He doesn't say much over the communicators; although privacy is little more than a fanciful notion under the circumstances, he'd still much rather keep the surveyable chatter to a minimum. All the more so in this case, given that there's an apparent covert operation to come up.

Rip already knows he'll play along with it. His questions now revolve around who they're partnering with, and so her turns to someone who struck him as largely reasonable, clever, and capable--a touch too settled, but not to such a degree that Rip thinks she'll blindly attempt to protect the Atroma.

Not that he gets much of that when he calls her; Peggy's response is short in more ways than one. Thankfully Rip's not one to necessarily let a show of curtness stop him, so once he confirms she's expecting him, he heads over to the Starstruck.

This time, there's a rather different sort of activity in the bay. As Rip makes his way further into the ship, he comes across a man--well. Running a treadmill to within an inch of it's life really might be the only way to put it. While it seems that he's no speedster, whoever this mystery person is absolutely has a rather remarkable physical prowess, which serves as the tip off. Peggy had made it clear, after all, that her mystery paramour was the triumph of military ability when they had run into each other on the asteroid.

Still. Even accounting for the mysterious glitches (and the British penchant for understatement), Rip has a hard time reconciling what he sees now with that shirt so small, he'd been barely able to get it on. He rather thinks whoever this person is might struggle to fit it over once bicep as he is now--and surely if he did, a single flex would shred the cloth worse than Rip had.

It's for that reason and that reason alone that he steps closer to the man. He won't stay for long, between Peggy waiting and this person being clearly occupied. It's just that Rip has to be sure.]

Excuse me. [He calls out loud enough to be heard over the straining of the machine, and the heavy, rapid footsteps.] Are you Steve?

[uprightness]

[ it's a quiet morning. the day is going to be a busy one. most of the people on board have never yet seen steve when faced with a mission except those who were present for the last pirate raid. in truth he is as reckless as he is meticulous; he likes a good plan. if there's a need he shifts away from it but he is still a soldier, he likes details and battle plans.

no part of him thinks anyone knows what it is they're going to walk into this time. it leaves an edge of uncertainty.

running keeps his mind clear of other distractions, allows him to focus on planning ahead and theorizing what they might expect. he would prefer jogging outside but with no real sun and clear air, the idea lost some the appeal.

he looks aside even before being called. he hears him walking. when he speaks something in him relaxes. another brit, peggy seems to have a talent of consolidating those around her.

a small frown and he stops running, hardly minding the fact the treadmill is still moving beneath his feet. it doesn't seem to do anything to his balance. apparently, he is not so used to being recognized, not here anyway. ]

Yeah.

[ he steps down from the machine, turning it off as he does. ]

What can I do for you?

[directed]

[An American, Rip thinks, with a distinctive accent that carries through to even the modern day. Peggy had mentioned a growing fondness for New York, and Rip can't help but wonder if her claims of following some work opportunity alone were only partially true. Still, that's a question for another time and another person. At present, Steve stops the treadmill, although not without a brief frown, Rip notes.

All the more reason to be prompt with his answer.]

Ah, no. Nothing in particular, actually. [His own expression turns apologetic as he continues on.] I didn't mean to fully interrupt your workout. It's just that I met your captain while she was in one of the shops on the asteroid, and she mentioned you.

[Your captain, although in truth Peggy had spoken of Steve in far more intimate terms.]

[uprightness]

[ a classic brooklyn accent, yes. the kind most hear only in films and tv programs these days. although steve does enjoy going back and talking to some of the older folks. they remind him of a home that he can't quite go back to.

the frown intensifies but as it turns out, it's mostly confusion. ]

Peggy?

[ as if she's an utter stranger. it's just that in the year that he spent with peggy carter, he never quite heard her speak of him that much, especially not by name. steve had gotten quite used to be introduced by his rank, security officer at first and then a first mate. ]

May Catch-all for Max (and a nice sleepy SoL one wow)

[theroadwarrior]

[Someone is rumble grumble grumbling about the fact that there's another ball going on — and he distinctly will not go thank you. He refuses. Hell, last time he went, it's because a pissed off child magicked him and his trusty wrench away to it. This time will be different, if it's all the same to you.

But there are some things of note lately. One, he's been... cleaner. Not that he's particularly sparkling every day, but he's slowly began to adapt to the routines around the fleet; one of which is Peggy bullying him into hygienic shit. However... the last few weeks... she hasn't had to tell him. He just. Does it. Does he do it just to avoid Peggy lecturing him? Probably. But. You know. Small victories. That hardly changes the fact that he holes up in the shuttle sometimes, or the way he loses track of time or people or himself, but come on. Progress.

He can be found sleeping soundly in the shuttle on the Starstruck (please be careful). But one particular day, you can even find him sleeping upright on the bed meant for him, in the sleeping quarters. Fucking crazy, right. He looks like he just got tired sorting out some of the boxes of goods he keeps there and relented to napping there, propped up against the pillow.

Wow, huh.

If you have a wildcard sort of thing, feel free to just find him around the kitchen or cargo bay; he's pretty predictable, this one. Other than the actual using of a real bed, anyway. Which will no doubt give him some back pain; who knew, being normal came with adjustments.]

[kill_switch]

[She'd borrowed a couple tools for her own advanced shuttle repairs, and here she is returning them. She's surprised to find he's not in the shuttle, and takes a brief tour around the starstruck until she finds him in his quarter of all places. She pokes her head down the hatch and knocks at the bulkhead with a spanner to get his attention.]

[theroadwarrior]

[Bwuh??? He doesn't jerk awake — dark sleep's good sleep — but he sits up a bit straighter, ready for the orders or potential problems. For a moment he expects to wake up with heat on his face and the sun staring him down across rustic wastelands. Instead it's Furiosa, a warm glow in the middle of a metal doorway.

He blinks, maybe one eye at a time, and hums.]

Hey.

[So macho, so threatening, what a hero.]

[kill_switch]

[Just sweep her off her feet with that sultry greeting why don't you. She gives the spanner a little wave.]

Returning your tool. Might be back for it later but I need a break. [She sets it on the nearest flat surface and settles back, looking down at him. He seemed ... different? Cleaner? Or was just her imagination?]

Might take a walk through the gardens on Iskaulit.

[Possibly an invite? Or maybe just a statement?]

[theroadwarrior]

[He nods. Yeah, yeah, tool. She could borrow any of 'em anytime; he never really minds when she takes his stuff. He stretches his legs out, as if testing if he should or could take the possibly-an-invitation. They feel alright. Stiff. Could use some stretching.]

Could probably use it. M'getting lazy.

[mucked]

[ it's a rather nondescript sort of day -- but peggy seems to be maintaining some sort of cheer. she's got a conked-out butler to contend with, absolutely, but she's trying not to wear that worry on her sleeve. so! when she catches max pawing through the cupboards in the kitchen, she breezes past and decides to boil enough water for two cups of tea.

she pauses just beyond him. glancing over her shoulder, she announces: ] -- Good God, you actually smell nice today. Did you shower with soap?

[ because this is a normal human interaction, yes. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He gives the usual huff of old-man-sigh, a half-finished meal of... some hideous mess in front of him. Gels and proteins and whatnot. It's not as bad as it looks. He does have to sweep a hand through his hair from time to time to keep it relatively out of his peripheral, though. If he hadn't so intense and sharp a weathered feature, he could probably audition for a boy band. As it turns out, survival isn't outweighed by his not giving a shit about hair.

Just ask the beard he grew a few years ago. Years ago? He'd shrug.]

Could, ah... roll around in mud and oil if you prefer. Won't judge your weird preferences.

[It's apparently a good day.]

[mucked]

[ bastard. of all the retorts, she doesn't anticipate one so scathing and articulate. good god, it must be a good day. but just because he's doing well doesn't mean she'll take this sort of lip lying down. a-bloody-hem.

she thuds two mugs down on the counter. heavily. aggressively, almost. ]

Max. [ a quirk of her brow. ] Don't be ridiculous. I haven't got any -- preferences. And if I did, I wouldn't tell them to you. And they most certainly wouldn't be weird.

[ some of these things are lies. she'll let him sort the wheat from the chaff. ]

[theroadwarrior]

[He hummmms around a spoon.

You signed up for this, Carter. This is your mess.]

Upstanding 1940's lovebird.

[... What? He may be beyond relationships, but he had one, and they probably did a lot of... preferences. Yes. Preferences. Mostly though, he just wants to make Peggy slam more mugs around. He glances up.]

You asked about my shower soap, not me.

[recipio]

[ It's been a time since Carl has bothered Max, and he's compelled to come and check on this guy. It's not at all because he likes his dog, too. Of course not. He finds himself on the Starstruck one afternoon when there's a buzz on the asteroid about some ball. It doesn't really hold much interest for him, even though that guy apparently has information about the Atroma.

He sees Rock first, crouching down to give lots of attention to the old dog, rubbing his ears and patting him on the ribs. Once he's paid tribute, he happens to glance around and spots Max sleeping in a shuttle. That doesn't look comfortable, but he's not unfamiliar with the need to fall asleep in weird places. He gets up and walks over slowly, giving his boot a gentle tap. ]

hope this is okay! bless ye

[theroadwarrior]

[Max is having a bad dream, but that is usually 50/50 odds when it comes to his sleep cycles. So when the boot is tapped, he twitches suddenly to life like its a hair trigger, fast for his stout nature, one hand scooping up a handful of Carl's fabric and the other pulled back far, ready to punch.

He stares with his teeth bared and brow furrowed rabidly, but it relaxes after a moment to recognize the boy in his grip isn't a warboy or a scavenger or a raider.]

Ahh?

[Articulate, Max is.]

[recipio]

[ He's not really used to people with sleep troubles of this caliber. Sure, people had nightmares back home, because who doesn't?? This is definitely a little more violent than Carl was expecting. Not quite the starting awake or suddenly-being-aware that comes to mind. He lets out a startled noise when his shirt is grabbed, watching that other hand with a wince, his arms raising briefly. They go to his sides when he realizes that he's not going to get punched in the face, at least. ]

I-- uh. Sorry? Just making sure.