THE DRIFT FLEET

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. ]