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

[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.

[outstandingbalance]

Well, you do have a number of good qualities.

[theirondragon]

I know, right? Look at this horns.

[And taking advantage of the space provided, he does sit up at least marginally more straight to show them off.]

[outstandingbalance]

You know, I'd noticed them. They do tend to draw attention.

I assume they're impressive?

[Natasha doesn't have a frame of reference.]

[theirondragon]

[He chuckles ludely.]

You know what they say about huge racks, Red.

[outstandingbalance]

In this one case, I'm not sure I do. [Look, the lady doesn't know many men with horns. Or women with horns either, to be fair.] I think I can guess though.

[theirondragon]

[He laughs heartily at that.]

Yeah? Go ahead and guess then, Red. Let's hear it.

[outstandingbalance]

Oh, I don't need that one confirmed or denied. I'll keep it to my imagination.