driftfleet | Starstruck mingle!

[Returning to the ship after a month on Mor seems very strange, like willingly walking himself back into his own jail cell.

He arrives with a few bags full off odds and ends so heavy he might be struggling a little bit to carry them. Despite his insistence to Mattias, he has gotten most of what the man asked him for, although he'll insist it's less about altruism and more about making the damned place tolerable.

In the kitchen he places a bundle carrying real cheese, bread, carrots, cloves of garlic, and a small bundle of honest-to-god meat, among other things. Not that he has any plans to do much with it now that there's a more qualified cook on the ship.

The wine is all his, though. Don't even ask. Unless you're Mattias.

Otherwise, his quiet return in somewhat ruined when the awkward grip of his traitorous fingers wavers on his second bundle on the way to his room, spilling out parchment, cards, incense, chalk, and other things all over the hallway]

Damn...

[It's said with much feeling, where a stronger profanity might have been warranted, but he has standards ok. With a heavy sigh, he stoops to pick the mess up, checking he contents of the pack in mild panic to be sure he didn't break any of the glass bottle stuffed in the bottom.]

Edited 2015-03-31 18:45 (UTC)

[Speaking of wine, it's only about a day after the ship leaves the planet that Felix makes good on his promise. There might have been a mild miscalculation when he'd agree to this and forgotten for a moment he's supposed to be the cook. Or, one of them. But since this is a private affair it seems uncouth to make her do the work for him.

Which means...yes, he actually cooked. None of that protein cube nonsense, though, which is why it comes so quickly. He'd rather not have the meat spoil.

There's the faint whiff of meat and spices in the recycled air as Felix raps on the wall outside wherever Mattias is at the moment, his mouth crooked up into a self-pleased grin]

Dinner is served. [Said in a playfully mocking tone] I do hope you're actually hungry, because this probably won't happen again.

Edited 2015-03-31 19:12 (UTC)

[The room is a mess. Or rather, Mattias' corner of it is a mess. A minefield of stray papers and open books, half of them covered in furious notations. Parchment flutters to the sides as he jumps to a start at the knock and tiptoes carefully through his personal battlefield.] Ah—Felix!

[He looks bedraggled. His hair, usually meticulously groomed, sprays out in a halo of runaway strands. His clothes are rumpled—a fact he seems to mind dearly, as he holds up a finger half way to the door.] Hold on just a moment.

[The pants he can keep on for now. But the shirt?] I meant to change before you came—I haven't had a chance to. Lost track of time. Work, you know how it is. [There's another shirt somewhere in here. He searches for it, already removing his tunic and tossing it... somewhere. It doesn't matter. Less so now that—] Aha! [He tosses a grin back at Felix.] Found it!

[And now he's scrambling to get his shirt off, tossing it to some nebulous place as well before shrugging on his new one. Then he's grabbing a fresh tunic, buttoning it as he makes his way back to the doorframe with a fresh smile.] Right. Back to you being a proper savior. I'm starving. Haven't eaten in... [He thinks. Squints.] Two days? [The smell greets him then, and he breathes in deep.] Is that meat? Real meat? Felix—you spoil me. Here, come in, come in.

[He gestures inside before scurrying off to clear... what apparently was a chair before his papers covered it. He gathers them in neat stacks and sets them aside, motioning for Felix to sit. Then he sets to clearing off a surface to eat from.]

1: [ Who's jumping on the bed?

Not ELN. So totally not ELN. That must be a different tiny creature who is doing that. Pretty impressive jumps, too, a few feet in the air, which makes it several times her height. (Disproportionate strength comes in handy sometimes??)

Bounce. Bounce. Wheeee. ]

2: [ video; locked to starstruck ]

[ ELN looks imperiously down at the camera, which has been set on the surface of a table where ELN is standing. ]

I require that I meet and determine the competence of all of you, including those new to the ship. Please check in immediately.

[Felix catches himself staring at that brief but enticing flash of skin and muscles that are far too defined than they have any right to be given that Mattias spends more time that even he does bent over books and papers. Speaking of which, he'd nearly been about to be angry about the state of the room when the shirt had come off and plowed that feeling right off it's track. Living in this small space wouldn't be quite so bad if the man wasn't parading about like a dessert he wasn't allowed to have - his own personal torment. It's half the reason he'd stayed on the planet.

He saves himself by taking the moment while Mattias organizes to turn away from the door and retrieve the plates of food he'd left in the kitchen, and the promised bottle of wine. His expression is back to neutral by the time he returns and sets all of it on the improvised table.]

Don't thank me until you try it. I make no promises about my skills.

[The plates are full of sausages (slightly overdone) and fake mashed potatoes cooked with real garlic (slighly underdone). He's honestly more hopeful about the wine]

And what is so important that you haven't eaten since we left?

[Felix didn't directly acknowledge the summons mostly out of principle as well as sheer stubbornness. It wasn't as if he'd chosen his particular place on the ship. Nevermind his lack of actual skills in pretty much anything. But he also can't resist giving her a hard time about it and after waiting long enough to make her think he'd simply ignored her completely, he takes a short stroll to find her.

Finding her jumping on the bed wasn't quite what he expected though]

I hope I'm not interrupting anything important.

[ She doesn't actually notice him until he speaks.

Once he does, the surprise makes her startle and flail in midair. Some catlike reflex has her spinning and landing, solidly, on all fours.

She stands immediately, clasping her hands behind her back. ]

You wouldn't have been, if you'd responded earlier.

I'll pass. I don't have any reason to let someone else determine my competence.

Oh, lovely. I see the measure of quality continues.

I should be saying that to you. I'm not the one demanding people answer them so I can determine their worth.

Edited 2015-04-05 03:17 (UTC)

His grand introduction (aka he's sitting in the pilot's chair)

[That hadn't been a long wait at all. A simple request and a few days later, and bam! Here he was, sitting in the pilot's chair of the Starstruck, feet kicked up over a panel of controls. (Carefully, of course.)

He's deep in thought and wondering what to do about a handful of things when the next person comes in, but that doesn't mean he'll shun them! Never. Instead, his feet lift off the panel and rest on the floor as he sits up and spins to face them with a grin.]

Hello there! I hope you don't mind I've made myself at home.

Wildcard (bc prompts are hard)

[HE'S EVERYWHERE giving charming smiles and busying himself with the controls. He's fascinated he knows how to fly a ship all of the sudden, okay. But feel free to run into him anywhere!]

[Oh, one of those types. He's not too surprised to see someone like this in charge of a ship, and it's not too hard to work up a response.]

This is Nocta Oren, checking in! [He lets that set in for just a moment before a short chuckle falls out.]

What do you think? Was that too much? I'm afraid I'm not used to being part of a crew, not like this.

[he's shuffling papers at his station or something who cares]

You know, it'd be easier to come and meet you for assessment if we were informed of where you were.

[When he hears him he wants to bolt. Scenario one. Retreat. But his feet turn wooden, and his legs leaden until he's left immobile. So he wants to shout. Scenario two. Shout and yell and scream "get off the ship! get off the damn ship!" but when he tries to summon the words they don't come. Disobeying him in his time of need. So he tries it quiet, a threatening murmur. "What are you doing here?" Scenario three. Again, his tongue fails him.

He's left with only one choice.]

Only for a short time, I hope. It's rude for visitors to overstay their welcome.

[A smile, polite, confused, is all he can manage. His tone is strained but it's passable. Easy to mistake as befuddlement and not fear. Trepidation. It's a small miracle that Oren can't hear his heart pound as he walks to his cluttered station.] I didn't hear you arrive.

You've got it all wrong.

[He laughs, spinning to face him and standing from his chair. It's just a few confident paces across the distance between them, but the purpose behind them is almost palpable for anyone who knows the type of person Oren is. He's here for a reason.]

I was transferred! [No admittance of his request or anything of the sort. That's a little desperate looking, and he doesn't want to deal with spurring any hope right now.] Don't look so pleased, Messiah, I may get a complex.

[He ends that joke with a wide smile. Come on, be a little excited, would you? His feelings may be hurt.]

Please don't call me that. [Oren stands and Mattias sits, turning towards his station. When he speaks, it's over the rumple of shifting papers, filing them and setting them aside.]

To be transferred you would have had to request it. [He catches Oren's gaze with the corner of his eye, reaching over to turn on one of his terminals.] Were you that eager to see me? Surely, the rest of the crew needn't suffer for your eagerness.

[Is he teasing? Is he serious? Is he just grumpy? Probably the latter. It looks like he might've just woken up.]

[Oh, did he have to know about this, as well? Oren smiles, stepping closer still and ending with a grip on the backrest of Mattias' chair.]

Suffer? You're awfully cruel. [At the bottom of those words, he even sounds genuinely hurt by it. But he leans a bit on the back of the chair there, peering over at Mattias' work.]

I mentioned it before, didn't I? My last ship already had a pilot, while yours had none. And seeing as we're the only two here from our own home, does it not make sense?

[He looms like a predator; Mattias can't help but stiffen. Try to keep his breathing steady as he leans in. It's hard enough to distract, and he nearly forgets to hide his work from Oren's view.] So you seek for purpose here? I thought you more independent.

[A beat. He hides the stack of papers at his feet.]

I just awoke. Forgive my brusqueness. [An excuse for his behavior or a guise to hide under. Even he's unsure as to which is true.]

[More independent? He's not wrong. That earns the shortest laugh yet, and he releases the chair to step up beside him, instead. He'll lean back on a portion of the display with no controls, one ankle crossing over the other as he stands.]

You've been brusque since my arrival. I'm beginning to wonder if you're alright. You're certain our argument was over leaves? [Or is he not telling him something?]

I didn't think the action was so strange it required defending. We're sorted into crews here either way, so it matters not how independent I may be, unfortunately.

[Ugh. It's too early for this. Too early to try and tone himself down. With a groan, he leans forward, massaging his forehead. Buying himself time.

This was supposed to be his sanctuary. His one place free of Oren's haunting.]

As I said, the argument got tense. [He practically mutters it, scrubbing his face.] Forgive me. You... caught me by surprise.

[Distracted now, running his usual tests on the equipment. It's a nice excuse not to have to look at him.]

Tense how, Mattias? [He uses his name to seem closer, keeping his distance for now. That is, if 'keeping his distance' could be leaning against parts of his station.]

You have me concerned. [It doesn't make much sense, the way he's been. Either something's happened that he hasn't mentioned (with himself, with Nocta, perhaps?), or he really did touch a sore point in an argument.] Perhaps we should talk it out.

Oren. [He sighs, smoothing back early morning hair.] Please. I've work to do.

[Not really. The tests he's running don't need his attention. He's hoping Oren doesn't know that. That he's more ignorant to the functions of the fleet than he should be by now. It's a fruitless hope, but it's the only one he has. His mind is drawing a blank on an offense grievous enough for his behavior.] Another time, perhaps.

[Since they'll apparently have plenty of it, now. An image of the future flashes before him; Oren lurking in the kitchen as he eats. Oren sleeping in one of the cots, no more than three bodies away from him. His stomach knots at the thought.]

[That angers him. Trying to blow him off? To what, come up with some answers and lies to keep him away until the next realization? He pushes away from the controls, stepping a few steps behind Mattias' chair with his back to him.]

How long do you intend to keep me waiting, exactly?

[He words it like Mattias is being the cruel one here. The one tricking and abusing.]

Forgive me, but I find it hard to believe you're so quiet on a disagreement we've had. So you wish to hide something from me? It's difficult to want to speak to me?

[A pause, perfectly timed. Practiced.] That's fine. I'm not so unused to the sentiment.

[With that seed planted, he crosses the room but doesn't leave it, taking a seat in his own chair, instead.]

[A trap. How had he fallen into one so soon? He tells himself to resist yet when Oren pauses, he nearly lurches to fill the gap. At the last minute, he catches himself. It leaves him half-turned towards Oren. It's enough to be what he wanted.

Swallowing, his mind races for a topic of offense and clamps on to the first it finds.]

My family. [He practically blurts it out.] You insulted my family.

[That gets a genuine pause out of him. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, looking over.]

How so?

Starstruck mingle!

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for mattias - closed

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Re: video

OPEN - from the newest shuffle on

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sighs

whoa don't be so excited

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