PFC Tommy Burgess (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alittlesideways) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ataraxionlogs2012-11-27 07:34 pm
alittlesideways) wrote in ataraxionlogs2012-11-27 07:34 pm
Entry tags:
open log
CHARACTERS: Tommy Burgess and OPEN
LOCATION: Shuttle Bay
WARNINGS: It's Tommy, so potential references to alcoholism and suicide.
SUMMARY: Tommy starts putting himself to use by getting a jooooobbbb.
NOTES: IDK, it's an open log, go ahead and tag at will! Oh also, this is a continuation of this thread.
Tommy had never been to the Shuttle Bay before. To be perfectly honest, he hasn't done much exploring around the Tranquility, just meandered between his room and the bar on any normal day. On good days, he didn't leave the bar. Fuck it, it was a social activity, right? Sitting around, drinking, shooting the shit. What else did he have to do? Not like he needed a job.
Except he did. Need a job, that is. The longer he sat around drinking, the more he started to dwell on things. On his death, on everything that he lost, on the sheer fucked up nature of this ship. Hell, the cabins locking people out? The spooky masks on the doors? And what's-his-name-- Smiley?
And then, of course, there was the fog, and the twisted, nightmare version of the ranch house, the place he used to go to for comfort.
Drinking was supposed to help him to forget how fucked up everything in his life was, but it was impossible to forget when he was still here, in... space hell.
So, employment it was. To be honest, he's not sure if he's even cut out for this job. He's not a mechanic or an engineer, but he's done work on cars before, minor stuff. Stuff any idiot can do. He figures, with the right tools and instruction, he can help out here, too.
And so, reeking like a brewery (but perhaps not as strongly as usual), Tommy finds his way to the Shuttle Bay. The sight that greets him is impressive, to say the least. It's huge, bigger than he thought it'd be, and there's actually a view. A real, honest-to-god look at the outside. At outer fucking space.
"Fuckin' A," he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face.
LOCATION: Shuttle Bay
WARNINGS: It's Tommy, so potential references to alcoholism and suicide.
SUMMARY: Tommy starts putting himself to use by getting a jooooobbbb.
NOTES: IDK, it's an open log, go ahead and tag at will! Oh also, this is a continuation of this thread.
Tommy had never been to the Shuttle Bay before. To be perfectly honest, he hasn't done much exploring around the Tranquility, just meandered between his room and the bar on any normal day. On good days, he didn't leave the bar. Fuck it, it was a social activity, right? Sitting around, drinking, shooting the shit. What else did he have to do? Not like he needed a job.
Except he did. Need a job, that is. The longer he sat around drinking, the more he started to dwell on things. On his death, on everything that he lost, on the sheer fucked up nature of this ship. Hell, the cabins locking people out? The spooky masks on the doors? And what's-his-name-- Smiley?
And then, of course, there was the fog, and the twisted, nightmare version of the ranch house, the place he used to go to for comfort.
Drinking was supposed to help him to forget how fucked up everything in his life was, but it was impossible to forget when he was still here, in... space hell.
So, employment it was. To be honest, he's not sure if he's even cut out for this job. He's not a mechanic or an engineer, but he's done work on cars before, minor stuff. Stuff any idiot can do. He figures, with the right tools and instruction, he can help out here, too.
And so, reeking like a brewery (but perhaps not as strongly as usual), Tommy finds his way to the Shuttle Bay. The sight that greets him is impressive, to say the least. It's huge, bigger than he thought it'd be, and there's actually a view. A real, honest-to-god look at the outside. At outer fucking space.
"Fuckin' A," he murmurs, a slow smile spreading across his face.