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

[theroadwarrior]

[He shrugs.]

Hnn. Usually, I'd tell you to get bent.

Mostly doing it on captain's orders.

[directed]

You wouldn't be the first.

[Right now, the fact that he isn't getting punched in the face is enough for Rip to consider the situation a win.

Of course, it might help that Rip is also cooking--assuming Max is willing to let go of his suspicions long enough to actually eat. Regardless, it's been long enough and I remembered what Rip was meant to be doing this whole time that he can bring a plate of eggs over to the galley, setting it on the table close enough for Max to pull over.]

Then I'll be thankful that you're electing to follow orders. [Since Rip might have a fair bit of experience with people doing the exact opposite of that. Maybe.]

[theroadwarrior]

[He considers the work, thoughtful, and turns the plate absently as he goes.]

Wouldn't want to get airlocked.

[So dryly. After a pause, he pushes the plate toward Rip.]

Test it first.

[directed]

...You know I'm not sure whether it says more about you or Miss Carter that I'm not sure if you're joking.

[About the airlock, he means. About the test? Rip can see Max is perfectly serious, and although he's highly tempted to roll his eyes? He walks the brief distance to get a second fork before returning and spearing a bit of the egg.

Then taking a bite.

Then chewing. While looking Max dead in the eye.]

...Huh. [No, he's not dying of poison.] Those actually turned out rather well.

[theroadwarrior]

Mmm. I don't joke.

[Oh...! Well. If they turned out rather well, he's quick to snatch back the plate... After waiting a moment, to make sure Rip swallows the food and doesn't die. Max is hardly discreet about his paranoia about the guy poisoning him. After a moment he takes a bite.

... He doesn't comment on it. But.

He does take another bite.]

[directed]

[We both know I don't have a sense of humor at times, he can hear himself saying on an entirely different ship—one he had been about to leave, in fact. But not through the airlock; hopefully they can avoid that in general, particularly now that Max has made his lack of humor equally clear.

What's also evident enough, at least in Rip's eyes, is the man's willingness to eat the breakfast Rip's made. There's no note of thanks of confirmation of satisfaction—and no, Rip hasn't forgotten that Max has openly admitted to eating dog food. Still, he's content enough to leave the other man to it, stepping away from the table to address the dishes left behind from his efforts.]