single mingle!!!

[poetontheinside]

Who: SS Windrose
Broadcast: Maybe???
Action: SS Windrose
When: After the Shuffle

[So the Windrose has gained a few new members, who will undoubtedly all get along like a house space-ship on fire. Alright? Let's go! Ready, set... mingle!]

Comments

[grabthecheese]

[Polly, who is the pilot, spends unfortunately a lot of time on the bridge. Which means she's there when the shuffle happens, which means that she again finds herself covered in confetti.

It took her a few days to get it all out of her curls last time.]

Why do they do that?

[She really doesn't see the point in making a mess in order to welcome newcomers.]

[poetontheinside]

[Ray comes out of the shuffle with his hair mostly intact, which means that it's standing up, all spiky and whatnot, and that there's currently a ton of confetti sticking to it.]

What the fuck-- [He spends some time shaking out his coat, then takes off his boots and starts shaking 'em to get all of that crap out.] You pull a guy into space, dump him on some kinda weird ship, he gets his expectations up, and all he gets is fucking confetti?

[He's muttering for a pretty long time before he even notices Polly there. He aced detective class, by the way. When he finally does notice her, he straightens up slowly, looking awkward to say the least.]

Uh, hey.

[grabthecheese]

[Polly is watching, a little bit amused, because she was doing exactly the same thing a week ago. Only with less swearing, and more confusion at the confetti.]

You get dessert, too. [Just. Indicating the pudding.] Hi. Welcome to the Windrose.

[poetontheinside]

[Compared to most of his life (up to and including the space kidnapping) confetti is only vaguely confusing, so he doesn't give it too much thought apart from 'generic annoyance'.

He blinks at her for a second, mouth half-open, then shakes himself and looks at the pudding, then back to her.]

Uh, thanks, I guess. You the Captain here or something?

[grabthecheese]

I am.

[A week ago she assumed it was a random assignment; now she's talking as if no one should question her rank. Well, that was inevitable.]

I'm Polly. Did you just arrive?

[In space, not on the Windrose. That last part is obvious.]

[poetontheinside]

Uh-- you mean, in, uh-- [He gestures, and somehow it's supposed to convey 'the huge vastness of space'. The Windrose crew better brush up on their non-verbal communication, otherwise nothing is going to happen.

He nods after that gesture.]

Yeah. Yeah, I am. Oh-- [He steps forward to shake her hand, still shaking the confetti off of himself. By now he's introduced himself enough times that he doesn't mess up the name anymore, and it's just 'Kowalski', now, not Vecchio anymore. It's good to say it again, but also kinda weird.] Detective Ray Kowalski. Nice to meet you, Polly.

[tothefly]

[She was expecting the teleportation, thanks to the insistently cheery voice in the back of her head. What she wasn't expecting was confetti, and what almost sounded like tinny trumpets from the comm.

Or for there to be other people on the bridge, though she should have expected that.

Have one redhead in a tactical jumpsuit, standing at ease and looking thoroughly unimpressed despite the colorful flakes in her curls, as she takes in the bridge and what she assumes is her new crew--one of whom she recognizes.]

Polly, in the flesh. Guess I owe you an apology.

[The other one, she doesn't know. He looks way out of his depth, though.]

[grabthecheese]

[Windrose: The ship of people with confetti permanently caught in their curls or hair products. Clearly the most festive of crews!

Polly isn't thinking that. She shakes Ray's hand (she's got a firm grip, and makes eye contact).]

Nice to meet you, too. Detective?

[She hasn't heard that rank before, although it's more mild curiosity seeing as a new rank is nothing compared to everything else here she hadn't heard of before.

She lets go of his hand, turns towards the other newcomer, then holds it out for her to shake instead. And yeah, she looks a little amused.]

There's no holograms on this ship. You never gave me your name.

[poetontheinside]

[Besides being out of his depth (and why aren't you all out of your depths, geez), he's also standing in a pile of heavy winter clothes. He's glad that they got ported in with him, but they're a serious pain in the ass to lug around when you're not actually wearing them.

He jumps a little when Natasha is suddenly there, and starts kicking the clothing to the side once Polly has moved over to greet her. More attractive women, apparently, and here he is, a skinny middle-aged cop with a parka and snow boots.]

Yeah, it's, a, uh-- cop thing, I guess. Investigating and stuff. [He turns to Natasha, and he'll shake her hand once she's free.] Ray- Kowalski.

[tothefly]

[It's just who she is, and what she does, really. If she is out of her depth, Natasha doesn't show it. Not readily, anyway, and not often. The last few years have brought enough exceptions to that, and she's not about to start things off here by being off her game.

She's wearing one of the Marsiva-provided jumpers in navy and still managing to make it look like it's runway-ready, holding a snall black bundle in one hand. Stepping forward to take Polly's hand with a small, slightly amused smile, she shrugs.]

I didn't. It's Natasha. Natasha Romanoff.

[Slightly more information than necessary, but better to learn now if they're from her world, or know her name. Once she's let go of Polly's hand, she turns to Ray, a glance taking in his pile of clothing before taking his hand in a firm enough grip to be surprising.]

Detective, was it?

[grabthecheese]

[Like the Butcher, she doesn't say, but she's only ever met two coppers. She liked them, though. And if Detective Ray Kowalsky is anything like them, he'll be good to have around.

And she already had a good impression of Natasha.]

It's nice to meet you in person.

[And then, to Ray:] We have lockers to put our things in, but I don't think all of that will fit.

[Regarding the uh. Pile of winter clothes.]

[poetontheinside]

[He smiles at both of them- a polite smile, professional, before he looks back down at his stuff awkwardly.]

Yeah, Chicago PD. I, uh, was up in the Northwest Whatevers before I got here. 'S cold. Maybe just... [he kicks at the excess of things at his feet.] Use 'em as insulation or somethin'.

[tothefly]

[There's the slightest arch of her eyebrow at the mention of Chicago, but whether it's the city itself or the mention of police is up for debate. Leave it to her luck to end up on a ship with law enforcement.]

You can use my locker, if you need it, Detective. I don't have any use for it.

[She offers him a small smile, before looking back to Polly.]

So this is the Windrose? Anything I should know?

post-introductions:

[tothefly]

[After the mess that was the bridge, complete with confetti and confusion, you can probably find Natasha standing in front of a nondescript door towards the aft part of the ship. There's a neat little tag on the door that reads "N. Romanoff" in block script. She's not going in, just...eyeballing the closed door.]

Another surprise. My favorite.

just gonna... tag everything

[poetontheinside]

[Alright, so here's the thing: Ray likes strong women. Likes them a lot, in fact. Hey, his ex-wife was a defense attorney, if that doesn't scream 'strong woman' he doesn't know what does.

But so far, a lot of the strong women in space have been... intimidating. Like, scary. And he's no stranger to scary people (usually guys, but he's met his fair share of scary women, too), but usually he's running down a street to catch them, or in a submarine trying to catch them, or falling from an airplane into a frozen wasteland to...

You get the point. So he's still trying to get the hang of this, talking to people he'd usually probably see as a perp and being a crewmates with them.

So he walks by Natasha's office while she's looking at it, toothpick in his mouth, and he looks like he's not sure how to handle the conversation- but they're stuck on this ship, so he might as well give it a go.]

Hey, Romanoff.

yesss, good

[tothefly]

In all honesty, it wouldn't be the first time she's been called intimidating. Or scary, for that matter. She can be a lot of both, when she's not trying to be either. And being teleported into the mess that was the Windrose's confetti-covered bridge wasn't exactly helping her be at ease, to be fair.

Now, though, she just looks perplexed, frowning at the door, only glancing up at the slightly stiff greeting. "It's just Natasha, Detective." She looks slightly amused at his discomfort. "Something I can do for you?"

[poetontheinside]

"Just Ray, then," he replies, still looking at the door. He takes the toothpick out of his mouth and gestures at her name.

"How come you get your name on a door and us mooks are slummin' it, huh?"

[tothefly]

A very good question, and one she's been wondering, despite the too-helpful implant in her head giving her suggestions. "Well, Ray, that's something I've been wondering myself." Mooks. That's a good word, one she hasn't heard in a while.

"You want to do the honors?" She's peeked in already, too curious not to, and she does wonder what he'll think of the desk, chair, and the long couch inside.

[poetontheinside]

"Afraid they put some Martians in there?" He grins at her over his shoulder, but he's already at the door, jiggling the doorknob. The door opens with a snap, and he throws it open.

She might notice that he lets out a small sigh of relief at there not being something freaky inside. Just- a desk, chair, a couch. He lets out a low whistle and steps back to let her in.

"Pretty nice digs."

[tothefly]

She thinks of the Chitauri at the mention of Martians. She can't help it. It might have been two years ago, but it's still too recent. Too raw, even for someone like her. Luckily, he's distracted and she's good at faking it, and the fact that her own skeptical look at that is a little distracted goes unnoticed.

His sigh of relief, however, does not, and that makes it a little easier to school her face into something quietly amused as she glides past him, leaning against the wall just to the left of the doorway. "Guess they think a little fake leather will make it easier for people to open up, tell me about their childhood." It's a joke, or it should be. Atroma must have some sick sense of humor, suggesting her as a psychologist.

[poetontheinside]

He steps inside, hands stuck back inside his pocket, toothpick between his teeth.

"Hey, you never know, right? Listening to people tellin' stories, some noddin'-- sounds like a pretty good deal to me." Only he's had enough compulsory psych evaluations that he's not too enthused by the idea of actually doing that.

[tothefly]

"Really? Then how about you be my first patient? It's all confidential, I promise." There's something about the man that makes him easy to tease. Maybe it's the slightly nervous posture, the slang she hasn't heard in years, maybe just the awkward looks on his face when no one's looking, but it's hard to resist poking just a little fun.

Of course, she looks entirely serious as she gestures to the couch.

[poetontheinside]

It's because he reacts to everything, and even once he's settled down a little more he'll still be easy to rile up. He looks a little less awkward now than he'd done when he first got to the Windrose: once he started approaching this as an undercover job, it got a lot easier. Blend in, go with the flow, take info where you can and don't make an ass out of yourself.

The latter still happens, but that happens when he's not undercover, so whatever.

At her suggestion he bristles, first making a big X in the air with his arms, then pointing at her directly. "Nuh-uh, no way, you are not shrinking my head, lady." But he still flops down on the couch, stretching out his legs.

[tothefly]

It's a good way to look at things, and pretty close to her general approach, actually. Approach everything in life with a little bit of distance, blend in, wait to see what happens. Listen and keep your eyes open. Not that she's expecting to learn much from the other contestants here regarding their predicament, but more information is never a bad thing.

His response gets a grin from her as she moves to the desk, easily lifting herself up onto the edge. "What, you don't trust me? I'll be gentle, I promise." And hey, he's already on the couch. What's a little conversation on top of that?

[poetontheinside]

He lolls his head to the side to look at her. She reminds him of Stella, a bit- the way she was before things got bad between them. Funny, pretty, smart, and totally aware that she's all of those.

"Had enough psych evals to know that's never true," he says, but he's grinning back a little.