Text. stuck in the middle with you.

[theroadwarrior]

Who: Max Rockatansky
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Starstruck
When: Today, for a short little glitch post.
(Also warning for some serious death talk in a thread below.)

[Max doesn't ask for a lot in life. Food of some kind so he doesn't starve. Water so he doesn't have to drink questionable things when its not there. A lack of ultra violence or cannibals. You know. Typical things. And he's been pretty good about behaving himself, keeping out of the way, not having any issues to speak of.

And then shit like this happens.

He's fiddling around at the little desk in the cargo bay when something peculiar happens. His screwdriver sticks to his hand. And no, he's been very hygienic, thank you — more so than usual — so there's really just one reason this is happening. He realizes it about when the empty tea cup on the desk also moves to stick to his arm.

Glitch.

So it goes. His time on the Starstruck the next few days are terribly bleak for him. See: the multitude of things that have somehow find a strange pulling gravity around him. It's not metal, really, it's anything. He's a Katamari character, and things just sort of fly and stick and he has to pry them off with way too much force necessary. Or they just fall off. In the kitchen, a plate falls off him at last, but shatters on the ground.

At one point, he just stays in the chair he's at, because if he stands up... Well...

It's stuck to his ass.

Records, hair pins, food (ugh), anything people leave behind...

And yes, people. People also stick to him.

This is the literal worst day of his life. Obviously. All the trauma that came before this is nothing.]


don't keep anything sharp or explosive on the starstruck right now.

might need remedies for nagging captains soon.



still tempted to saw the augment out of my neck sometimes.

Comments

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[mucked]

Do you realize how handy those little buggers can be?

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[theroadwarrior]

huhhh

perfect for my long flowing curls i guess

[Max you've had long flowing hair before, it was awful.]

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[mucked]

Or for picking locks. Fixing a hem. Short-circuiting a bit of kit.

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[theroadwarrior]

huh, maybe i SHOULD keep em

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[mucked]

So you do have them.

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[theroadwarrior]

dont know if you're getting them back

too small to pry off the leg right now

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[mucked]

You could try asking for help.

[ and she could try offering it. but where's the joy in that? ]

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[theroadwarrior]

not something i enjoy doing

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[mucked]

So decide which you enjoy least: asking, or being a man-shaped magnet for the rest of the day. Hell, it could last a week.

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[theroadwarrior]

hmmm, pot and the kettle.

could try to use a spatula on them if you want.

[He's also got a tea kettle stuck to the other leg.

It's yours.]

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[mucked]

I'm surprised the spatula's not already stuck to you.

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[theroadwarrior]

has been before

must have problems with commitment

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[mucked]

Maybe it's merely indecisive.

Where are you? I'll see what I can do.

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[theroadwarrior]

in the room i'm supposed to live in

seemed like the safest place at the time.

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[mucked]

Give us a moment. Do you think the spatula will suffice, or should I detour for some pliers too?

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[theroadwarrior]

just watch where you pinch those pliers

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[mucked]

Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Depends on how many pins I can rescue.

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[theroadwarrior]

less and less sure you actually plan to help

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[mucked]

Oh, ye of little faith.

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[theroadwarrior]

if you say so

[He'll be waiting.

Covered in all sorts of things. A kettle, credits, what is most assuredly Peggy's pins — and not just her pins, but her tea cup! And goodness, that's clearly a gun stuck literally to the side of his head. A hammer is splinted onto his forearm against his will, and Rock's canned dogfood is fruitlessly trapped against his shoulder blade. Among other things you'd find playing I Spy.

Behold as he sits with a sigh and gives her a look that says don't even start with me.]

[mucked]

[ oh, she starts with him. ]

Blimey. You really undersold the situation, didn't you?

[ she's got both the pliers and the spatula in hand, but she can't help but gawk at the state of him. peggy crosses the room, first grabbing onto one of her precious tea cups with a frown.

she gives it a tug. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Maybe a little.

[Yeah, that tea cup isn't budging yet.

One of the buttons on her shirt shoots off and pings right off his forehead.]

Erghk—

[8_8 this is a dangerous game agent carter]

[mucked]

[ oh my word if one of her favourite tea cups gets ruined in this mess, max, so help you god! peggy grimaces, pulls again, and -- pop.

there goes a bloody button. it's a high one -- nothing too wild -- but her hand nevertheless shoots to cover the gap. ]

-- Christ. [ this isn't fun. ] I hope you know how to sew.

[theroadwarrior]

[He rubs his head with a pained scowl. That's gonna leave a mark.]

It's just a button —

[The gravity around him seems to alter; the tea cup goes a-fallin', along with everything currently stuck to him. Across the room, a handful of sea shells fly and stick to his shoulders. Also, the edge of Peggy's dress is apparently going to stick to his arm. Just the hem. Lucky you.]

[mucked]

Just one of my buttons. It's not like -- [ she pauses. peggy just about manages to catch the tea cup (her are special; steve painted them) before it smashes on the floor. bugger all else.

even, it seems, the hem of her skirt. trying to step away does no good -- it's as though she's pinned to him. ]

I hate you.