driftfleet | video;

Who: Mattias Larnaca
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: general waystation area?? vague hand gestures
When: April 22nd

[Lo and behold: Mattias fretting on a bench. It's not an obvious sort of motion, restricted to subtle shifts and twitching fingers, but it's noticeable enough to matter. He's hunched over the comm and what little the background shows is unrevealing. The corner of a building here, the awning of a kiosk there, everything unspecific.]

It's been quite a month, hasn't it? What with the attacks... [he drifts off, never very good with small talk. One of the many gifts he lacks.] It's been good to watch all the repairs. People working together... [Wow, he sure does suck at this. He chews his lip, glancing around as if looking for help. Nope. Nothing. Maybe he'll just get to the point.]

Still, tensions must be running high. Stress and such. Always have a way of sinking in. I've my own, of course. My ship fared poorly in the attacks and that—[He glances away, head sinking slightly.]—it's been the lesser of many events. I don't mean to complain but the effects are starting to wear. My usual methods aren't working. Reading—I just can't seem to concentrate and beyond that... Well. I've little else.

[He sighs, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. It messes it up a bit, but he's careful to smooth it back down.] It feels inappropriate to ask something so selfish but I'm at a loss. And there are a great many things that all of you know... [That I don't is heavily implied. He glances away, switching the comm to one hand so he can properly wring his wrist.] So, I was wondering—how do you cope? With... all of this. It doesn't have to be personal just. Just simple things. Like... jumping off a building. [Immediately, he scrunches his eyes closed.] —Bad example. But, you know what I mean.

[Fiddling nervously, he searches for something else to say, finds nothing, and cuts the feed. ]

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Boxing. [He makes a couple moves-- narrows his eyes like he's concentrating, jabs his fists out, moves his shoulders rhythmically.]

Just-- oomph, you know? Get it all out there, wear yourself out. [He makes a couple more feint moves, and then sits back.]

I wasn't there for the, uh- attacks, but, uh. You need any engineerin' help?

While I appreciate the offer, I think we've got it covered. Three engineers volunteered. It's honestly a bit crowded.

As for boxing... Usually I'm against such violence but—[Even he can't deny it's tempting. He's got too much steam.]—I suppose we're provided with punching bags for a reason.

[Still, he sounds nervous.]

Hey, you do it right it ain't violence, it's an art. I used to train kids, so I got plenty of experience if you're startin' out.

[There's a dry chuckle. Starting out.]

If only. I've—Well. I suppose you could say I'm a military man. I have some years of training. [A beat.] It never elevated to an art.

Military, huh? Alright, I can work with that. [He gives a few more jabs and grins. He won't ask why a military man is 'against such violence'-- it's not really any of his business.]

Even if it ain't an art, it's still good to let off some steam, right?

It's—

[Oh, fuck it.]

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—It's more complicated than that. I get—I have problems with violence. Namely that I get too violent. I have a tendency not to stop.

[He blinks a little- he wasn't expecting that, because yes, sometimes he judges a book by its cover. But he can deal with violent, come on.]

So you need someone to stop you from doin' that? Stop you while you're doin' that? Make sure you don't hurt anyone, what?

I don't know, it's never—I've never considered having someone there to... help. Never felt sure enough, I suppose. I'm not exactly in control when it happens.

Hey, I'm no Muhammad Ali, but I can help out plenty. [He shrugs a little, idly] Stop you when you seem like you're losin' it? I can do that.

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