James "Sawyer" Ford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rednecking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-10-01 09:48 pm
rednecking) wrote in driftfleet2017-10-01 09:48 pm
Entry tags:
heron october mingle
Who: The Heron crew & visitors!
Broadcast: n/a
Action: The Heron
When: Month of October
[so . . . Some Stuff happened last month, didn't it. But it's a new month now! Whatcha up to, Heron?]
Broadcast: n/a
Action: The Heron
When: Month of October
[so . . . Some Stuff happened last month, didn't it. But it's a new month now! Whatcha up to, Heron?]
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As like any month, you can find Sawyer reading a book almost anywhere; in the kitchen, in his room, in the cargo bay, in the hallway - wherever he feels like, if we're being honest. It may seem like it's more than normal, but it isn't, really, no it isn't a distraction from everything shut up. The books he's picking, though . . . they're certainly thematic. Thrillers and horror stories, because it's that time of the year.
Every so often, though, he can be found in the armory, matter-of-factly checking all the weapons for ammo, cleaning a random gun, or just standing there with his arms crossed glaring into space. It isn't so much him doing his job as it's satisfying some deeply buried something else, and if questioned he'll have some smartass excuse.
Otherwise, sometimes he'll head to the cargo bay to exercise on the stationary bike . . . with a book, of course]
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So with things settling back into her normal routine, she's spending time in the kitchen, sitting comfortably on a chair with her painter in her lap, drawing. She's also gotten back into her normal training routine with Officer Snuggles, using the cargo bay for exercise for them both when she can't be bothered to go to the Iskaulit.
She's also taking the First Officer thing very seriously, which means she's spending a shift on the Bridge to keep an eye on things, and making rounds on the ship fairly often to check in with people. Crew is important, after all.]
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Then he realizes Wrath is still there, and while he doesn't care much about being rude, she's a face he hasn't seen. He should, y'know, probably say something]
Whoa, when did we get a Picasso on the ship?
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What? Where? When? Where is it?
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Talkin' about you, but maybe he's lurkin' around here too. Who knows with this place.
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That being said, Bucky can be found in several key places throughout the month. He's a man of routine, so at any time during the day, he can be seen roaming the hallways, making his rounds and looking for anything out of the ordinary-- particularly late at night when the ship is mostly silent. More and more, the kitchen is a good place to find him, either refueling with coffee or sitting at the table reading a book. Or perhaps even cleaning his arsenal of weapons, spread across the table. (Seriously, how many knives does this guy own?) A small boombox sits nearby, playing a collection of songs they may have heard before.
Maybe you'll catch him in the wee hours of the morning in the cargo bay running on the treadmill or doing too many push-ups. ]
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She leans against a store of supplies, staying silent though she figures he knows she's there.]
kitchen;;
Good read?
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[is the answer he gives after a moment, glancing up to offer Bucky a big grin. He gestures with his free hand to the page] Murder mystery. Nobody knows what the hell they're doin' but somehow they keep bumblin' into clues.
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Um. My name's Wrath. And I do neo-impressionism?
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[both eyebrows shoot up] I kinda know what that is. Might've read about it once. Name's Sawyer.
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Nice to meet you Sawyer! Oh, right, you're the other security person on the ship. That's great.
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That I am. The more the merrier, right?
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Means we can be an effective team when something needs to get its head kicked in.
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[he offers her a brief salute] Yes ma'am. Though I prefer punchin' to kickin'. can't get my leg up that high.
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Well, you gotta work how you can. But I can help you with some stretches...
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[a snort] I was jokin' again. . . . mostly.
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Oh. Okay!
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I'll try to tone done the jokes for ya.
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Um. It's okay. I just don't get stuff sometimes, but it doesn't bother me. So don't worry about it!
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Well if I ever say somethin' you don't get, just ask. I'm used to explainin' it.
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Okay, I'll definitely ask. That's nice of you. [She's been asking less and less at times just because it gets awkward, so total permission is awesome.]
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Don't mention it. Sometimes I forget not everyone's from Earth or - man, I ain't even sure what year it is back home, but you get what I mean.
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And a lot of it. Hunk was off in his own little world, wearing crisp white apron, surrounded by copious amounts of sweets, way too much for one normal man. He counted his blessings that the Heron had a decent kitchen to work in. It wasn’t a 5 star restaurant but having powdered eggs was better than that artificially flavored gel they tried to push off as food….
When he wasn’t drowning in pastries, Hunk retreated to the engine room to toil away at some experiments Pidge and himself had planned. So far had hadn’t made much progress with finding out how the implants worked. Even so… it was something to keep his mind busy.]
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[And if a lot of your experiences have been taken from you, well...]
Oh yeah, definitely not. Like... I only met people from Earth when the Immune started showing up in my city. It's gotta be cool to be from Earth though!
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. . . Immune? Do I wanna ask? [he knows better, after all] I dunno about that, my Earth ain't all that great. Lots of whacky shit normal folk don't ever find out about.
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Um, they were people from like other worlds and times that somehow got brought to the city? It was weird and complicated. But they were immune to the dysthrophe and we weren't. They weren't happy to be there, though.
What kind of wacky shit?
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[there's a distinct change in his interest - she had his full attention before, of course, but now it's a little different - more business-like] You came from a world like this one? Where other people would end up there and shit?
Polar bears on exotic islands, for one. Crazy conspiracies. Stuff I can't even explain cuz it sounds so ridiculous.
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Well I mean... conspiracies aren't crazy if they're true, though.
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Good point. Then let's say crazy shit that sounds like a conspiracy.
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Huh. That sounds like what Erik and Charles talked about kind of. [Saying this more to herself, though she's not really thinking that Sawyer probably didn't know those friends of hers] Losing your memories is scary.
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—Charles? [well, that name sure rings a bell. But he hasn't heard it in a while, now] English guy on wheels?
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[She brightens--she misses Charles, but it feels good to have other people around who still remember him. Makes it all seem more real for someone who's always doubting her own thoughts.] Yeah, that's him! He was my friend.
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[they're both so eloquent.
Her friend? How long ago was he here? And was that asshole boyfriend of his with him, too? What the hell, he missed a mini-reunion] We were on the same team back in Kyriakos.
[...] He doin' all right?
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[someone not Erik, but details
(someone doesn't forget biases)]
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because playercest is a bitch] If he's got any sense to him he kept it up back there.no subject
Hank didn't have nearly as much of a hurfdurf problem as Charles.
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