the white noise is deafening silence

[thespaceopera]

[In the very early hours of January 20th, as the Marsiva and her captives drift nonchalantly through the depths of the universe, there is a call. Every single personal communicator and console springs to life, spitting out a stream of indecipherable static and showing only gray snow on screen. It continues like this for a few seconds longer, going black and then going staticky, and then the signal switches to the encrypted channel generally used for speaking to the Interceptors when something big goes down.

This is a little more successful. The voice may be familiar to some, at least through the static.]

Zhade here! I trust I ███ your attention? I'm having some ██▓▓ble ██tting through. Some of the ░▓██▓█ are missing. I can't ░▓▓▓ read on their loc█████ns. [A particularly long burst of static.] ███stening. I'll s█▓▓█ more inf██▓▓▓▓▓█ I get it.

Stay sharp! [There's the sound of someone actually doing the fingerguns wink noise, and then static.

Any messages sent back won't get through, and Zhade isn't there to answer.]

[ A blip of lost time passes right after those words, before every passenger mysteriously wakes alone in their own unfamiliar room. The style of decor resembles that of the Marsiva's Hospitality Deck, if any passengers should remember what that's like. It sounds and smells the same as the host ship as well, all clean and chrome.

Welcome back to the Marsiva, dear passengers. It's time for round three of calibrations. ]

[ This mingle will cover all non-calibration room interactions. Please continue to come back to it for the duration of the plot! You are, of course, free to post any other mingles/posts/etc. that you'd like. ]

Comments

[theirondragon]

Maybe, but sometimes it all gets to be too much and you wake up one day, and you realize you don't know why you keep doing that.

[And he smiles slightly.]

What I'm saying is if you wake up one day, and you don't know why anymore, you just call up the Iron Bull. We'll figure it out.

[outstandingbalance]

[Natasha bites her lower lip at that offer. For a moment, it's almost too much. It's only a matter of seconds before her emotions are back under control.

Proof he's on target, probably.]

Thanks. I'll remember that. [Then, after a brief pause.] And I'll come by more either way. You're right—I'm behind on that.

[theirondragon]

[He nods.]

And I'll only hit you with a stick if you ask nice.

[outstandingbalance]

Tempting as that is, I think I'll contain myself somehow. Hate to make your boyfriend jealous.

[theirondragon]

[He laughs.]

That's only if I tie you up first.

[outstandingbalance]

Now it just sounds like work.

[theirondragon]

The best pay-offs come with effort, Red.

[outstandingbalance]

Not effort—usually if I end up tied up, it's the day job.

[And then things get messy.]

[theirondragon]

Don't mix business and pleasure, huh? [He grins.]

[outstandingbalance]

We can't all enjoy what we do as much as you.

[theirondragon]

[Another chuckle.]

If you're not enjoying it, what's the point?

[outstandingbalance]

The job? Most of what I do, I do because someone has to. No need to over-complicate it.

[theirondragon]

How's enjoying it overcomplicating it, Red?

[outstandingbalance]

Enjoying something means different things at different times. Not usually a lot to like when it comes to the things we do.

[A few probably colored by the fact what she's been doing makes her a criminal, and just how disastrous her most recent memories of home have been.]

But it's better than the alternative.

[theirondragon]

See, and I like the violence. [He rolls his shoulder in a shrug.] Gotta have someplace for it to go, right?

[outstandingbalance]

If I liked it, not sure I could do it as well as I do.

[theirondragon]

[He raises an eyebrow at that.]

How's that? Makes me do a better job.

[outstandingbalance]

Keeps me objective. Don't get too quick to the jump because you're looking forward to the action. Someone has to keep a cool head; usually it's me.

[Their jobs have somewhat different requirements in some ways.]

Don't get me wrong. I can enjoy a challenge or a good fight, but... but spies who like their jobs too much usually end up knowing things they shouldn't know, which is a good way to end up dead. Assassins who like their jobs too much... that's a whole other problem.

[theirondragon]

Depends on the spy. I know a guy who got to start his own mercenary band and as long as the letters home kept coming, he got to do whatever he wanted. Not a bad job, right?

[He shrugs.]

And hey, some people really need to die.

[outstandingbalance]

Sometimes they do. [And in those cases, they don't really bother Natasha. There's blood on her hands that she'll carry with her, but there's some she's comfortable with.]

You think I should start a band of mercenaries?

[theirondragon]

[He chuckles.]

Hey, whatever you want to do, Red, but if you do? The Iron Bull is with you.

[outstandingbalance]

[It's fairly impossible not to smile at that, at least a little. She can picture it now.]

If it happens, you'll be the first to know.

[Then, dropping her gaze.]

Thanks. I needed that.

[theirondragon]

I know, Red.

[And he reaches out, cupping a massive but gentle hand on her shoulder and giving it a soft squeeze.]

I'm pretty good at figuring out what people need. It's a gift.

[outstandingbalance]

You are. [She won't deny it. In Natasha's experience, it's rare for people to see through her front, or to push when she claims she's fine. Most would rather believe her.] And so modest about it.

[theirondragon]

[To be fair, it's hard not to notice someone is in pain when it looks so much like your own.

Still, he grins.]

I know, right? There are way better things to brag about.