driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Natasha Romanoff
Broadcast: video
Action: SS Vanquish
When: now or later

[Natasha's face appears on the video, looking tired but focused. Thoughtful. She also looks like the image she presents, insofar as she can control it, is intentional. She's in her quarters, but the camera is angled to reveal little aside from a blank ship wall and the edge of her bunk behind her face and shoulders. There's no fumbling.

When the video starts, she flashes a slight smile.]

As announcements go, this one's a bit late. As of the end of calibrations, I've been the listed captain for the Vanquish.

[It's not an announcement that comes with any pride, or any sense of authority.]

It has had me thinking. I know different ships treat the titles differently, take them more seriously—or less. Most of the time it hasn't mattered to me all that much.

Not like there's any qualifications for it.

[The 'but' in her words is heavily implied in the pause that follows, the slow way she sighs through her nose.]

I've been wondering lately how people would like it to be. If you had a say in it—hypothetically unless you're my crew I suppose—how would you like captains to treat their job? And what would you say their job is.

[She leans back a little, visibly waiting for a response before the video cuts out.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'd like to think so, yes.

[Living on a ship with a blue person for a while makes him a lot less conscious about his appearance, anyway. Thanks, Nightcrawler.]

Though I think I will always be at least a bit shy of meeting new people.

Shy, hm? You know, I don't think shy is the word I'd have used.

[Reserved, maybe. Measured. Cautious. A different spin on the same core behavior, but ones that come from different places.

Maybe Natasha forgets sometimes to consider just what it means that Vision is so young.]

But always is a long time.

[He looks interested.] Oh? What would you have said? [Because goodness knows his own emotional vocabulary isn't as good as Natasha's.]

--That is true. I hardly know what tomorrow will hold, to say nothing of the future beyond that. Perhaps my nature will change, in that.

Something complimentary. Promise. [It's a gentle dodge, offered with a half smile. An elaboration follows.] When I think of shyness, it implies a certain mental state. A motivation for holding back.

I don't think I'd speculate about that.

[He snorts lightly.] I worry about acceptance from my peers, just as a human does. [Thanks, Dads. This one he's pretty sure he can pin directly on Bruce. Stupid social anxiety.] It is admittedly less difficult here, due to the diverse nature of Fleet residents, but it does still exist.

Some humans more than others.

[Yeah, that is definitely Bruce. Not that Tony doesn't have his own manifestations of social anxiety—he just seems to process them by being terminally extroverted.

So could be worse?]

Imagine it's not just the diversity. Most people here... if you didn't have to accept the unexpected before, the Fleet's a crash course.

Some more than others. [Definitely agreeing there. Tony cares just as much about acceptance, but his ego makes it difficult for him to admit he's wrong. Not quite the same kind of problem.]

Oh, that's certainly true. Especially if one is unfamiliar with the concept of other worlds and dimensions.

Which applies to most of us, I think. Even the ones who aren't unfamiliar sort of are.

[There's a difference between being aware of aliens or alternate timelines and running into them.]

But it's amazing what becomes common place.

Living in close quarters on a ship with persons from other worlds is one of them, I think. And complaining about the food?

Well. What else do we have to complain about?

[A lot. A whole lot.]

[So much. So much.]

The ill-defined role of a captain in the Fleet, I suppose.

What would you like it to mean, Natasha?

[Way to come full circle.]

Suppose I'm still figuring that out.