everybody's starstruck in june.

[mucked]

Who: starstruck crew & visitors
Broadcast: n/a
Action: aboard the ship
When: june

[ another month; another mingle. but there are changes in the air! the starstruck has some fresh crew to boast of, as well as a spiffing new lounge. things have been difficult, lately -- the common area might make for a great place to decompress and socialize with your fellow starstruckers.

after all, it seems the captain's gone and requisitioned max's record player. for the first week in june, it'll be returned again and again to the new lounge. good luck hiding it from her, rockatanksy.

ready steady go! ]

Comments

OTA

[outstandingbalance]

[Natasha drops by, like she does, not going straight to find Steve or Peggy, or any other particular crew member she might have an interest in visiting. Instead, she goes to their kitchen and starts making herself coffee, apparently in no particular hurry.

When she's done, she takes a seat on the counter itself, mug cupped in both hands.

This is normal.]

1/???

[theroadwarrior]

[Max comes hobbling in, probably to grab something quick and utterly unappetizing from the kitchen; it sure is better than eating dog food, though. As he wanders in, he slows his activities to a stop, looking at the woman.]

[theroadwarrior]

[No but where is Lovebird or Beau?

Where is the people that Natasha visits to torment?]

[theroadwarrior]

[Is she just here to loom?]

[theroadwarrior]

[What, is this what he does, too?

Did someone do something wrong?]

[theroadwarrior]

[...........]

okay i'm satisfied

[theroadwarrior]

That's ours.

[#social]

[mucked]

[ it's mid-morning, or thereabouts, and peggy's finally managed to extricate herself from what's become a morning hassle. but once she manages to get her pins out and her face on, she's much more eager to meet the day. only one thing's missing: tea.

so! she breezes into the kitchen a little later than she'd like but it seems routines are almost moot in space. at the very least, she's hardly surprised to find a certain spy sitting on the counter. ]

Natasha -- [ she says by way of greeting, breezing by to reach the kettle. ] So nice of you to stop in.

[uwannagobro]

[ Just as normal as this new crewmate walking past her, pulling out a jug of sake from inside the folds of his inventory clothes, and pouring himself a small cup, leaning against a counter to take a sip before glancing her way with a blink. Then one more for good measure as he tries to decide if this is another crewmate he hasn't yet met or not. Which was kind of a hard thing to do when he barely knows a thing about his crewmates, but eh. ]

... Morning!

[directed]

[While Rip is still rather new to the ship, and thus might not know what to expect at any point when he walks into the kitchen? Seeing Natasha sitting there definitely does not fall onto the list of all things predictable. At least the smell of coffee had let Rip know that he wouldn't be alone?]

Oh. Good morning, Miss Romanoff. [And a rather early one at that. He pauses where he stands; by and large Rip has found he prefers to have the space to himself when he attempts any form of cooking, although it seems that might not be the case today.] Were you meeting someone?

[expellerhead]

[at like two in the afternoon aizawa stumbles in like he'd just woken up and stares blearily at natasha for a few seconds. oh right. that redhead who comes over to see carter and the first mate sometimes.

he shuffles over to the half-full pot of coffee and grabs the handle.] This open?

[wingedman]

Long time, no see.

[Sam wanders into the kitchen, gives Natasha a small wave, helps himself to a cup of coffee. He doesn't seem especially bothered by her presence, sitting down at the table with his coffee.]

You turn into a social butterfly or something? Or you just like to keep an eye on the troublemakers?

[searingedgelord]

[She obviously doesn't belong here, but she's wondering through anyway. It's nice to see that Rokurou hasn't taken apart the kitchen yet.

She didn't really expect to see Natasha here, though.]

...Hey.

[uprightness]

[ it's a late sort of morning. Steve woke up hours ago, of course, hardly the best of sleepers on normal circumstances, never mind here. his day started as usual, really, exercise and a shower. after that, he lost some time reading lord of the flies yet again.

the book is still under his arm when he walks into the kitchen for a bit of coffee and maybe something to eat.

he nudges her legs aside as a greeting. ]

People make food here, you know.

[ garb a chair, you heathen. ]

STEVE ROGERS ✮ OTA

[uprightness]

[ and all at once, the days become relatively peaceful. after the heist which by now steve had determined as a failure, he kept to his own work, either on the bridge or at the weaponry, trying to untangle the web of emotions that was wrapped around his heart, frustration, anger and grief knotted together into what was definitely a wave of emotional turmoil.

he's doing a bit better these days and because of that, one can see him a lot more often. at times, you could catch him making coffee or tea in the kitchen and he'll always offer to make present company a cup, too. He'll also take advantage of the new lounge, making it into his reading corner - a little stack of books nearby as he works on the current one ( lord of the flies or maybe pride and prejudice ). Other times he'll be there with a pad of sketches or perhaps his list of things to catch up on. don't be surprised if he stops and asks you if you know something about the rolling stones or the poltergeist.

and a few times a day, you could catch him at the weaponry going over each and every weapon, dissembling, cleaning and assembling it again.

and if you're really lucky, you might just find him emptying his old room of whatever knick-knacks that were still there. though don't ask where he's taking them. ]

lounge »

[mucked]

What are you reading, now, for what must be the umpteenth time?

[ peggy doesn't say hello -- or greet him at all, really, except with this calmly leveled question. it's an easy assumption to make. the selection is so limited in the fleet and steve reads so voraciously. truth be told, she could look at the book's spine and be done with it but in that case she wouldn't get to hear him speak.

(sometimes -- especially recently -- it's important to make sure he speaks some damn full sentences in a day.)

for her part, she's got a crate of records to sort through. peggy sets the box on the floor next to the record player itself before kneeling to the task. no eye contact. not yet. ]

OTA for the sourpuss

[theroadwarrior]

[Max is gonna try so hard to take the record player back at first. It's not that he's trying to be a dick. It just happens. There's something hardwired into him, a sort of trigger as sensitive as his knee, that tells him people can't just take his things from him. Back home they take his blood, his car, nearly his head, and lord help them if they tried to keep his jacket. Here, something as simple as a vanishing record player makes him huff-puff-wobble-growl all over the goddamn ship like you might as well have shot the thing out of the airlock.

Is it childish? Perhaps. Mostly animalistic, a bit primal. You learn something, encode it in your DNA after a few decades, and suddenly you're supposed to scrub it out and play nice with your crew.

But he tries. So when he sees that Peggy or Ochako or any one of his crew is enjoying the music, he bites his lip hard and quietly leaves to battle the Record Player Demons another day. Which is today, in which he sourly looks at the record player, swiped again, with his arms folded.]

That's mine.

[But maybe you'll catch him when he's over it (a little, not much, but enough), and is playing a bit of Pink Floyd while he surveys the uneven, crappy furniture in the room with a toolbox next to him. Grumble grumble. His knee gives a most awful crackling noise as he stands up and slides the measuring tape back into itself.

All things considered, he's doing alright.]

[mucked]

[ margaret elizabeth carter doesn't say a word. oh, she stays so bloody silent. standing in the lounge doorway, she leans her shoulder up against the frame -- head tilted in amusement while she watches him measure what needs to be measured.

it's been a tough few weeks. what happened back at the asteroids had staggered her -- gutted her, more like. and she doesn't like the way failure stings deep beneath the skin. but witnessing a moment like this one? max, reaching out and affecting change on in his cramped little world aboard the starstruck?

well. it cheers her up. it reminds her it's not all shite and theatrics.

peggy leans there for as long as she can get away with it -- watching him until he notices her. ]

[uprightness]

I want the protocol to show I had nothing to do with it.

[ hello max. his latest attempt at taking the thing back might yet be successful this time. steve doesn't seem inclined to to keep it. he's far too busy with his books, piling them, one on top of the other and reading and re-reading them. if he almost worked his way through the library, well.

one has to do. ]

Furiosa - hangar bay mostly, ota

[kill_switch]

She's usually here quite a bit, checking up on her fellow Wastelander and helping him with things like stuck kettles, giving him plants, and making sure he eats. It hasn't been as challenging of a task, recently, but she still appreciates the company.

Additionally, she'll bring her 'Disaster Shuttle' over for ongoing repairs since its run through hostile asteroid territory earlier. Feel free to join them or just sit back and laugh.

OTA

[uwannagobro]

[ As a swordsman, Rokurou's built up a set of habits and rituals meant to keep his skills, and his weaponry polished and ready. And being out in space, stripped of the weapons he'd grown so familiar with carrying, was hardly enough of a reason to stop those rituals he'd spent years developing. All he needed to do was use a few... alternatives until he had enough money to pick up some blades. ]

[ Which is why anyone passing by the cargo hold will find Rokurou with an assortment of pipes that 'fell' off random places in the ship, considering the weight of each one and testing them out for his sword-swinging training sessions. ]

None of these have quite the right amount of heft to them...

[mucked]

[ 'fell off'?

peggy finds him in the cargo hold. she hasn't had much opportunity to properly introduce herself to the new fellow, as things have been a bit bonkers since the heist and its attendant failures. but she's keen to rectify that now -- to upgrade from stiff nods in the ship hallways to a proper conversation.

starting with: ]

-- Good God, where'd you get those?

Rip Hunter | OTA

[directed]

[New month, new crew—and Rip just so happens to be one of that number. The recently poached cook from the Caprine doesn't know he's been bragged about a bit, and perhaps it's better that way. Unfortunately, Starstruck, the man responsible for preparing your food isn't exactly experienced in it. Blame food replicators that actually spit out any number of things, all of which are more desirable than any form of gel ration Rip's ever seen.

He is, however, at least making the attempt to get better. Not only is Rip taking lessons with Jarvis, but he's practicing what he's learned, refining his efforts until he's satisfied with the results—so hopefully, you all like eggs. Or, whatever the powdery substance labeled "egg substitute" truly is. Regardless, there's a lot of something resembling scrambled eggs and omelets to be found in the kitchen these days.

Only in the mornings, however. Rip isn't going to go through the entire supply of the stuff—nor make anyone suffer through them more than he has to. Notably, he's also willing to make tea for anyone who asks. When it comes to coffee, however, the heathens are on their own.

In light of this, one need not strain too hard to reason that Rip's been recruited for something other than culinary abilities. The answer lies in how he spends a good deal of the rest of his time: attempting to learn the functions of the Starstruck. Specifically, he's focused on piloting and engineering—unhappily so, it may seem, as it's not unlikely to find him looking over panels or wiring or engines and muttering in annoyance to himself at how little sense the bloody things seem to make. Without any sort of reference, it isn't exactly simple—nor is it truly intuitive, to hear Rip talk about it.

Yet the saying about all work and no play exists for a reason. Even someone like Rip, who does so much better with something to focus on, takes a certain amount of time to himself. They've got the new lounge, lopsided furniture and all, and Rip can especially be found there whenever Peggy has managed to coax Max out of his record player. After weeks of being stuck in a system obsessed with their version of punk rock and flamingos, it's almost heavenly to hear music far more familiar, and better, to his tastes. If he's not laying on a couch or sitting in a chair just enjoying the opportunity to listen, Rip might also be found reading one of the books that seems to be laying around.

Rip isn't the most social person, however. Sometimes he retreats to his room instead, where he's got another brand of indulgence: the bass guitar he managed to obtain during the disaster of a raid on the Dreadhorse compound. Of course, ask him and he'll tell you his intentions are to sell it—but until they get to somewhere he might make some credits off of it, Rip seems rather content to try and puzzle out how it works too. Fortunately, he's got some musical training in his background, so it's not all a disaster. He also tries to limit both the volume and the time he spends plucking away, not wanting to disturb anyone.

Sometimes, however, it's rather nice to have something to engage in that isn't a reminder of the augment so neatly implanted at the base of his skull, either because it's what he's supposed to be doing, or because he's frustrated by what he can't.]

[mucked]

[ it's been a few days since rip has properly come aboard. peggy's allowed him the chance to get his bearings -- poke his way around the ship, learn the kitchen as it is, and so forth. but eventually it's time for a real chat. not just yammering on about any old safe topic. no, anyone who's chosen to to join the ship of their own accord ought to have a few things explained to them.

so! it's a standard issue morning and peggy pops into the kitchen for her first cuppa of the day. her heels announce her arrival well before she's seen. peggy doesn't always fall back on the pumps, especially during drifting weeks, but sometimes a uniform of sorts is a comfort. the same can be said for everything from her pin-curls down to her nail lacquer. she's well-assembled for the day, no matter what turmoil lurks below the curated surface.

and yet she smiles, friendly-like, upon her arrival. peggy doesn't ask before she grabs a fork and helps herself to a mouthful of scrambled egg. she touches the back of the utensil to her mouth while she chews. ]

-- Are you using Mister Jarvis's recipe?

[ it's not quite the same. but it's close(ish). enough to spark some recognition on her tongue. ]

OTA

[searingedgelord]

[This here is probably a new face, but she wanted to check up on Rokurou. He's the only other daemon from her world around, and she figures he's probably getting restless without his swords.

Though while she's looking for him she does take a moment to pause and raise an eyebrow at the ship's interior.]

Wow, this one is fancy.

[expellerhead]

[hey so like who the fuck are you]

Some people have an appreciation for aesthetics. [he doesn't look particularly guarded, with his datapad and his cup of some kind of hot liquid, maybe like imitation coffee or whatever, but he's definitely eyeballing this stranger in her edgelord uniform] Looking for someone?

sam wilson | ota

[wingedman]

[Sam can mostly be found in the engine room, still working on the whole engineering thing. He's starting to get more of a grip on it; he can see a lot of the principles he's familiar with writ large in the ship's engines. Other things are completely new, and he gives those a wide berth, suspecting that Peggy won't exactly be pleased if he manages to break her ship in his first week here.

Eventually, he ends up in the lounge, poking at the collection of records - settling on Aretha Franklin, in the end. Maybe not what you might expect him to pick, looking at him, but Sam is a man of subtle tastes. Sure, he'd rather have some Marvin Gaye, but he'll take what he can get. (And if he thinks he's alone, you might occasionally find him softly singing along with the music in a falsetto.)

Late one night (or early one morning), he finds himself in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. Most of his time is spent with his fingers wrapped around the mug, staring into its depths like he expects it to divulge its secrets. This is the sort of night where he'd rather find something to occupy himself, distract his mind from the lingering nightmares. But he hasn't found that yet in space, and so it's just him and his coffee mug.]

[mucked]

[ -- just outside the lounge door, peggy pauses. she can't for the life of her guess who's just inside singing. and when one peek clears up her confusion? goodness, she smiles. silent, and for her own benefit alone.

from thereon out, it's a simple matter of standing still in the doorway. her arms are folded sedately in front of her and her smile is long since schooled into a neutral expression. when sam finally notices her -- as it's rather inevitable, in the end, she counters: ]

Heavens, don't stop on my account.

Action

[takingkarabusiness]

[ It's been a few days and Kara is still torn over her "it's complicated" relationship status, so she's decided to drop by the Starstruck for some advice from a friend. Her other friends have given her good advice, but she's not sure it's what she needs right now... But Steve seems like he's cut from the same cloth. Maybe he'll have something to say on the subject that resonates with her.

Of course, as she's nosing around the ship, she could easily run into other crew members. Maybe she should have called ahead? ]

Action

[uprightness]

Hey -

[ steve meets her when she passes by the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. she moves so quickly that he has to stick his head out the door and call her back. ]

Kara, over here.

[ he has a little smile ready for her, as always. ]

How are you?