driftfleet | everybody's starstruck in june.

Entry tags:

everybody's starstruck in june.

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! ]

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[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.]

[ 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. ]

[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.]

[No but where is Lovebird or Beau?

Where is the people that Natasha visits to torment?]

[Is she just here to loom?]

[What, is this what he does, too?

Did someone do something wrong?]

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

That's ours.

[#social]

[She glances at the mug, then back up at him, her brows rising slightly in a question.]

Is it? Looks like it's mine now.

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. ]

Edited 2017-06-01 19:17 (UTC)

[ 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.

[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.]

... Did you come here just to make coffee.

[He's still looking around for whoever she's supposed to be visiting, tbh.]

Pride and Prejudice. I'm done with Persuasions.

[ yes, again. ]

This one may be more well-known but I think I don't like it as much.

[ though the story does have a certain charm to it. he lifts his eyes from the book, arches an eyebrow. ]

You stole all his records, too?

[ perhaps he's a bit amused. how long before Max tries to steal them back? ]

Morning. [She gets a small smile over the top of her coffee mug.

Well.

Not her coffee mug.

But a clean one she found in the kitchen.] Seems like it's been a while since I dropped by.

No. That was just one part of my agenda.

[She nods slightly though.]

There's more though, if you want some.

[ a crinkle of her nose. peggy never cared much for austen. northanger abbey, maybe, but the rest always made her feel a little uncomfortable -- they ring like assignments in her head, associated with lessons and stuffy classrooms and school uniforms. she could never quite put her finger on it. far be it from her, however, to come down too harshly on steve's books. ]

What good is a record player without records? [ her tone suggests steve's a bit daft for asking. ] It's meant to be more than decorative.

[ 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. ]

Is it an attempt to coax him out of the cargo bay? he'll come looking for it.

[ and when he does, he's bailing. he isn't taking the blame for this felonious theft. he leans back in his seat, watches her over page 104. ]

What are you plotting?

[ there's a ploy here somewhere, he knows it. ]

[ peggy fills the electric kettle with water. she prefers to heat it on the hob, yes, but mornings call for expediency. so electric it is! ]

We've all been a bit busy. [ heists; dances; failures. ] I don't hold your absences against you.

I'm not plotting anything, [ she argues -- and with an entirely plotty shift of her shoulders. scheming, even. ] Unless you count wanting our crew to have a bit of R&R as 'plotting'.

[ and if max leaves the cargo bay for a little while in the process? bonus. ]

[ she's up to something. at the very least, steve is pretty sure he's on her good side with this. he hums his supposed agreement. ]

That's a nice goal to set.

[ plotting, this one. ]

I guess it'll be nice to have background music around here.

[ she pulls out a record or two and sets them aside. possibilities. ]

For as long as we're allowed it. I think I can manage a week before he rotates it to a hiding place I haven't already considered.

[ -- okay, so there's a bit of plotting. ]

[ he needs to consider very carefully who will win in this battle of will,s peggy or max. they're both stubborn, not to mention inventive.

well, at the very least he's not involved this time. ]

You're going to try keeping it here for a week??

[ this might get interesting. ]

[Some parts of that were less pleasant than others. Natasha's never been a particular fan of failure—possibly the result of an upbringing where often as not, failure meant dying.]

Hm. I wasn't expecting judgment for it, no. But keeping in touch can be more important when we're busy.

[Where busy means working, and assessing what went wrong with the heist.]

I did talk to Steve there once. Just to see how he was taking things.

[Or Steve reached out to see how she was.]

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everybody's starstruck in june.

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