Open/Mingle - Roll Call.

[collegedropout]

Who: Sam, and you, and anyone; tis a mingle of sorts.
Broadcast: Fleetwide.
Action: SS Bloodsport, if you wanna find him.
When: After the planet is struck - Sept 22nd.

Note: Feel free to tag each other and inform everyone of whatever you need to, post-planetary explosion! I'll tag here and there, but consider it more of a mingle for people to touch bases about casualities and making sure people know they're okay (or if someone's injured.)

[Sam sits, triumphant in their mission but also defeated in spirit. Because yeah, they got the ship off the planet, and there's a whole civilization of people who get out of there... but he also is already too aware there is at least one fatality on their end already. Looma's last broadcast had been expected, especially after she'd sent him a warning beacon as the meteor pressed down into the planet's atmosphere, speeding, ready to smash the thing to pieces without effort.

Looma at least faced her death as one would expect, for her people. He imagines they would be proud.

Still, he sounds deflated at the thought, as he speaks a more leveled and straightforward response:]


... We've lost Captain Looma, of the SS Bishop. Umm... for what it's worth, she did it on her terms. I'm sorry.


[He's carried out the task of divvying up the blood from the blood drive, in case anyone from any particular ship needs it; there've been some injuries from shrapnel and citizen unrest, he's pretty sure. That's about all he can do, now, other than check in on the gardens... make sure Fie's work is continued alongside her, because it's important to keep those plants alive and thriving.

He slumps a little in weariness, sighing at his desk where he sits on the SS Bloodsport.]


... Role call?


Who's, um. Who's missing?

Comments

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[uprightness]

will do.

give me half an hour.

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[mucked]

Not a minute more.

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[uprightness]

[ he walks fine. slowly, yes and not without a certain amount of pain. but in the end, steve rogers walks back onto the starstruck on his own. he makes his way to the bridge, rolls his shoulder as he does. ]

nothing yet but I'll keep asking.

[mucked]

[ his -- max's -- jacket is draped over the pilot's chair. peggy had scolded it back from a child she'd found taking refuge on the space station. and, in that moment, she'd understood that something horrible had happened to max rockatanksy. that understanding has only strengthened with time.

she stands as soon as steve enters. and she nods her gratitude that he'd asked at all, but doesn't say much. first, she wants to appraise his condition. ]

You're still sore?

[uprightness]

I'll live.

[ steve thought he had see the worst is sokovia but this has exceeded those grim expectations. the amount of devastation and lives lost - they have done their best. steve had told wanda once you can't save everybody.

it's a bit difficult today, following his own advice. ]

What needs doing?

[mucked]

[ she scrubs a hand along the back of her neck. fingertips finding purchase deep beneath her curls, and her head turns away -- she considers the work at hand, the situation surrounding them, and the futility chasing every step. ]

I thought we could take a peek at the cupboards. Send whatever we can spare over to the survivors. We can suffer protein gels until the next opportunity presents itself to replenish our supplies.

[uprightness]

Roger that.

[ he nods, heavy and solemn. steve turns back, shakes his head, willing his mind to stay awake, operate a little longer. maybe some of those pain killers had worked. ]

I should have a list somewhere. It's pretty much up to speed with what we have.

[mucked]

[ she looks him over -- appraising his very person. it's enough to make her cross the space and look up at him, really study his eyes, before adding: ]

But it can wait for a few hours.

[uprightness]

I'm fine.

[ stubborn to a fault, he stands a little straighter, chases away exhaustion and a certain amount of ache that would go away in a few hours, at most. ]

I can get it done.

[mucked]

[ she grabs him by his chin. tilts his head, angles his eyes to look properly into hers -- and she does not flinch while she watches him. ]

You can get it done in an hour. It might be you checked yourself out of someone else's med-bay, but I'm still your captain.

[uprightness]

[ he lets out a breath and nods. ‫she's not wrong and steve knows better than to argue with her at times like these. ]

and what should I do during that hour, then?

[mucked]

Sleep. Read. Eat, if you like. I don't bloody care as long as you do it off your feet.

[ -- or she does care. she cares a great deal. and she's hiding it underneath that gruff bit of captaincy. ]

[uprightness]

Right.

[ how very rare it is that he offers no argument at all. Maybe he's just that tired or perhaps he knows Peggy has enough to deal with even without his stubbornness.

So he's being very good about it all. He reaches for her hand and holds it tightly for a moment. It's mostly worry and relief, she's okay, he's okay. They've seen this one through. ]

An hour.

[mucked]

[ it's enough to make her suspicious, although she does her best to quiet that thought. she knows better than to meet every blip and alteration with doubt. still, her eyes widen a moment when she takes his hand.

she offers a squeeze. ]

You might need a bit of supervising, I suppose. Someone to make certain you're taking the full hour. As directed.

[uprightness]

[ heaven help him, he manages to smile. ]

I hope you're talking about yourself because I feel very uncomfortable thinking of someone else staring at me while I'm trying to rest.

[ imagine the horror. ]

[mucked]

I was considering deputizing Jarvis. [ she teases -- reaching up to give his jawline an affectionate pat. ] He makes for a very attentive nursemaid. I can assure you.

[uprightness]

I'll have to pass on that. I don't need nursing.

[ though for a moment he looks pleasantly distracted, his smile becomes a bit far-off. he does think about nursing though jarvis has little to do with it. ]

You said supervising.

[ he reminds her, tugging on her hand, leading her away. ]

I don't know a better supervisor.

[mucked]

[ steve rogers! she's come to know that look -- reading between his smile and his eyes. a flush of daydream, and one she jolts out of him with a scoff. ]

You're right. For once. I said supervising. [ she lingers a moment -- but first extricates her hand from his so she can collect up max's jacket from where it's draped on the chair. she folds it over her arm -- reverent. ]

-- Give us a moment.

[uprightness]

For once?

[ honestly, now. but he nods, he doesn't say much of it. perhaps there's no need to say anything. this isn't like the war but in so many ways, it is. it's those experiences that make understanding easy. ]

I'm going to find some ice.

[ for the annoying bruise at the side of his head. he might not really need it but it's a good excuse for something to do. ]

[mucked]

[ she twists her fingers in the jacket's sleeves. how funny it is to be possessive of something that was never hers -- something she'd rarely so much as touched, really, because it's always always always been so guarded by its owner. ]

-- I'll meet you back at ours?

[ our room. ]

[uprightness]

Sounds good.

[ he reaches out, covers her palm for a moment longer before retreating to form himself a kind of a make-do ice pack. some of those last minute efforts have taken their toll. he wraps ice cubes in a towel and presses it to his cheekbone.

he takes his time. thank heaven, they have time yet again. ]

[mucked]

[ she attempts to leave the coat in max's room. funnily enough, it's never felt like max's room. and with his shuttle just as mia as he is, she can't leave it there instead. but nothing about the room feels right. she leaves it on his bed, the back of a chair, folded in a foot-locker. and despite all her efforts she winds up keeping the thing -- dragging it back to the captain's room.

when steve arrives, it's hanging off the closet door. a dreadful little memento mori. she herself is inside one of the walk-in closets. fussing. ]

[uprightness]

[ he sees the jacket first.

steve looks at it and frowns. he fears the worst, he knows by now peggy's worries are worse than his. they might have already turned into simply knowing something went horribly, horribly wrong.

he hopes to god they're both wrong.

he leans against the closet door, watching her. he doesn't say much. there's not a lot to say. ]

[mucked]

[ it's not much, really. hanging up a flamingo-print blouse (mmhm) and nudging a few other items aside. trying to keep busy when there's not much left to accomplish outside of leaving the ship -- something she's not yet prepared to do.

but then there's steve. the creak of the door gives him away. she turns -- nodding. ]

There's no better place for it. [ she speaks of the jacket without introducing it. ] You don't mind, do you?

[uprightness]

Not one bit.

[ quietly, honestly. she keeps busy. he can appreciate it. hell, it's all he's been doing since the ice. keeping busy - bigger things, smaller things, it didn't matter. he removes his own jacket and reaches for a hanger.

it's hard to know who's watching over whom. ]