driftfleet | single mingle!!!

[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.]

[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.

[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.

[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?

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.]

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.

[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.]

[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.

[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.

[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?

[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.]

[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'.

[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?

We can figure out somewhere to keep them.

[They don't need insulation, and you don't waste perfectly good clothes. At the very least, they'll work as emergency bandages, the soldier in her is thinking.]

It's small. There's no privacy. [shrug.] We can make it bigger if we pay for it, though, and it grows if the right people join us, too.

Do you want a tour?

[He finally figures out a place to put his excess of winter clothes-- right over there in that corner seems like a perfectly nice place. Don't trip, anyone!

He rakes a hand through his hair, dislodging a bit of confetti, but mostly getting it to stick up again. That's better, he seems to think, and he shimmies his shoulders a little bit so he can get back in this space game.]

Yeah, tour sounds good. Uh-- by 'paying' you don't mean hard cash, right? 'Cause I don't have a lotta that right now. Not even a freakin' loonie, though I guess Canadian cash isn't worth a whole lot in space, anyway. [regroup, pal] You're talkin' about the ratings? The-- credits, whatever?

[At this, he gestures at where he can sort of feel the chip underneath his skin. Mysterious things go on in there, apparently.]

[The corner seems as good a place as any for that mound of coat and boots. He must have been halfway to the Artic Circle. Or maybe he just got cold easily. Natasha watches the stowing and the puppy-like wriggling out of the corner of her eye, mostly focused on Polly.]

I heard about the upgrade process. Good ratings equals better accommodations. And cash, too, Detective, yes. I guess we'll have to keep things interesting, at least until I find a way out of this mess.

Lead on, Captain. [She gives Polly a look, waiting patiently and seemingly unbothered by the confetti trapped in her hair still. Time to deal with that later.]

That's not a good spot for it.

[Polly has several objections - although she'll let him store it there for now, until they can figure out somewhere better. But this is her bridge.

For now, though, she'll lead the way for this tour, which should take all of a couple of minutes.]

The ratings, yeah. You get paid for being interesting. [Leaving the bridge behind, and there's immediately a door on their left.] We sleep here, and that's where the lockers are, too. There's only bunk beds, but you can choose.

[Unless you're the Captain. She has her own bed.]

[He blatantly ignores Polly when she says that-- they'll figure it out later, whatever.

He gives a groan at the mention of bunk beds, and the realization that there's no separate sleeping quarters, even.]

Oh, great, what is this, space camp?

Bunk beds. It's efficient, at least. Pretty standard for most ships, as far as I know.

[For someone she's fairly certain hasn't been in the fleet for long, Polly's pretty attached to this ship. Or to her captaincy. Or maybe she just prefers order. Ray's mountain of cold-weather gear is a fight for a later time, though, and she's content to follow the tour.

The idea of shared sleeping quarters is less than thrilling. She's never slept well around strangers. But she doesn't show her discomfort, unlike Ray, instead just shooting him a quick sideways glance and looking back at Polly.]

Nervous about sharing a room with the ladies, Detective?

[She is absolutely attached to her Captaincy and the ship. She got used to being in charge before arriving here, and this space is the only thing she can reasonably expect to protect.]

You could toss some blankets down on the floor somewhere if you clear them away in the morning.

[...as a suggestion. If he doesn't want to share.]

That's not-- [He turns to Polly, then turns back to look at the room. Honestly, he doesn't mind the bunk beds, and it's not that he's nervous-- but he hasn't lived with anyone since the divorce, and the thought of suddenly being in such close quarters makes his skin itch.]

It was a joke. 's fine.

[She has to admit to some amusement, seeing the detective look so uncomfortable. Seems like she's not the only one less than thrilled. Glancing in the room, Natasha turns back to Polly.]

Out of curiosity, is there anywhere with enough floor space for someone to stretch out without being a tripping hazard? Seems like the fleet is pretty economic with the square footage.

[No one is happy about it. Polly is just used to tight quarters by now.]

The cargo bay might work. It's in the back of the ship.

[He's got his shoulders hunched, his hands stuck deep inside his pockets. He looks the room over once more, then looks at Polly.]

It's a good ship, Captain. You been on this one a long time?

[Cargo bay might be worth looking at. She's going to be doing a lot of exploring the next few days. It won't change the situation, but it might make her a little more comfortable in her skin.

She'll just be poking around in the sleeping quarters a moment while Polly answers the detective's question, staking out a bunk.]

single mingle!!!

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