broadcast

[survivalistcookbook]

Who: Eugene Woods
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: aboard the Starstruck immediately following
When: 9/28



[There's a popular sentiment, that it takes one to know one. And as far as broad strokes go, Eugene has to admit it's not entirely inaccurate. There's no substitute for experience. So when they swing into a new star system and find no evidence of anything but a salvage-based economy, full of pickers and souls chasing whatever temporary pleasures they can grasp at?

Not to get too teary-eyed, but it does feel a little like home.

It also means that he only needs a few days to really size up the place before he's on the network, broadcasting from his usual home base of the Starstruck's galley, a glint in his eye that speaks to him having an idea.]

Hello Drifters. I'm sure it hasn't escaped your notice, but the theme of the month looks like it's going to be garbage picking. And while that looks like it'll be a great time, I think there might be room planetside for anyone who wants to help the hardworking population get a meal down and back to digging.

Put simply? This planet is getting a new food truck.

[Stupid? Oh yes. But he can make noodles for a fraction of what he can sell them at, and that's enough of a stepoff point for him.]

Anyone who wants in can give me a ring or swing by the Starstruck. And anyone else? Fleetmate discount if I see you down there.

Comments

[unbearablynaive]

[His smile turns into more of a grin.] I have perfect confidence that anything you choose to cook will be superior to protein gel, though she has been lamenting the lack of a proper baked dessert. Apparently the liquid nitrogen ice cream I can make is not quite the same.

[And then he creases his brow slightly.] Er, and forgive me for prying, but how is the prosthetic holding up? If it needs servicing, this planet seems ideal for finding parts.

[survivalistcookbook]

[Polite as he is, Vision is comfortably direct about the whole situation, and Eugene glances down and gives his knee a swing. There is a bit of audible creaking - which he does have the good grace to look chagrined about.]

... probably could use a tune up, honestly. I think i'm a lot harder on it since I got the strength and fortitude buffs.

[unbearablynaive]

[He nods - it's been a few months anyway, so it's not surprising it's showing some wear and tear.]

All right. Perhaps we could meet up for a diagnostic? Unless there's someone else around more qualified, of course. I still wouldn't call myself an expert.

[Even if he has spent more time lately with the medical branch of Stark Industries. It's not the same as being an actual doctor.]

[survivalistcookbook]

Come on, how much of an expert do you need to be to tune up - what. A hinge? [There are a few more simple parts in it than that, he knows, but not a heck of a lot.]

[unbearablynaive]

It's no full neurostimulator, certainly. Which means you needn't worry about a power supply, or rare earth metal components, or constant tune-up maintenance. It's no wonder you prefer an analog solution.

[survivalistcookbook]

I - yes, thank you. Exactly.

[Someone gets it. Someone on the complete opposite end of the technological spectrum, but that only makes it more gratifying, if anything. And going into more of a thanks than that is more personal disclosure than he likes to really go into, so he just . . . leaves it at that.]

Just let me know when you're free and where to meet you. My schedule's pretty flexible at the moment.

[unbearablynaive]

It would be my pleasure, Eugene.