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]

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.

text »

[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.

text » action

[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.

[theroadwarrior]

[Well. Since they're stuck like this.]

Seem awfully worried about that cup.

[Don't you have a lot of them, being so infuriatingly British?]

[mucked]

This one belongs to a set of four. [ a beat. ] How you managed to get it stuck to you when it ought to be kept on the top shelf, I'll never know.

[ she cradles it in her palm. ]

They were a gift.

[theroadwarrior]

[His brow relaxes.]

Oh.

[He figures where they came from, now. Deduction at its finest.]

They just fly over. Float....

Hmm.

[He tugs his arm, stretching her skirt uselessly.]

[mucked]

Stop it -- [ she swats at his arm, clearly unhappy with the notion that he should be stretching her skirt anywhere. bad enough to be stuck together in the first place. but if she ruins another piece of clothing?

well, she won't be happy.

peggy therefore stays close. ]

-- Let's just be grateful the cup didn't break. Even if it did, [ a beat, ] you know I wouldn't blame you. Yes?

[theroadwarrior]

[grunt.

Rude.

He sits awkwardly, letting his shoulder lean in awkwardly and avoid wrecking her outfit. He's a warm wall along her left-hand side as he patiently tries out wait out the gravity. For better or much worse.]

Wouldn't mind. People say what they don't mean, when they're angry.

Things aren't just things to everybody.

[He hmmmmmms, that same ol' Rockatansky hum.]

They got meaning.

[mucked]

[ peggy doesn't wear proximity well. despite how comfortable she's become with her intermittent touches on max's arm, this is a little too much. nevertheless, peggy endures it.

but not without first twisting aside and setting the tea cup down on a (hopefully) safe surface. then, submitting to the circumstances, she leans an arm on his shoulder. ]

People have meaning, too. Not just things. [ he means something to her; that alone might spare him the worst of a lecture. ]

[theroadwarrior]

Mmm. Some things remind us of people, though.

[He doesn't have anything like that from home.

He does have a necklace here from the poison girl. A plant from Furiosa.

Max wags his arm, attached to her skirt, and the little fidget bracelet she gave him wiggles.]

[mucked]

Sometimes, yes. Some things do.

[ and she can't very well lie and say the tea cups mightn't become one of those very things. the point still stands: people matter more than objects. the human element is always vital, even if she sometimes requires steve to remind her of it.

affectionately, she ruffles her resting hand through his mussed hair. it's not a common gesture but -- hell, if they're stuck together regardless. ]

But I would have thought you'd have no patience for such sentiment.

[theroadwarrior]

[His head wags back and forth with her motion, rather uncaring of the motion despite the grumble in his chest. It's a harmless kind, one of habit than anything, she probably knows. The cowlick on the back of his head is untamable]

Got no patience for people taking my things. Mmm. My jacket's from when I was a cop.

[And then, bitterly:]

... Car was from when I was a cop. Before it blew up.

[And, well. The bracelet next to hers is from a little girl he couldn't save.

So perhaps Max Rockatansky has some sentiment after all.]

[mucked]

So. Attached, but only very narrowly. I suppose I can respect it.

[ until three days from now when she mercilessly steals your turntable and records. ]