eighteenth jump;

[mathematically]

CHARACTERS: any and all
LOCATION: Gravity Couches and beyond
WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, or even some violence, and more than likely some implied (and possibly explicit) nakedness.
SUMMARY: Another month, another jump, another round of new faces.
NOTES: Keeping up with the tradition and copy pasted like always from the last one 



You wake up in darkness.

There's a breathing tube jammed down your trachea, and you're suspended in a tube of clear blue fluid. Upon registering your level of consciousness, the gravity couch drains the fluid surrounding you and retracts the breathing apparatus; the doors in front of you open, and you're deposited on the floor of a stark, sterile medical bay.

You are not alone.
There are others who have come before you, others who are awakening beside you. Some may be familiar to you, perhaps even friends. Others have much less amiable plans. Some are merely alien and inexplicable, but there are always those who might mean you harm.

After you catch your breath and your vision returns, you notice a number on the inside of your forearm. Maybe it's a familiar number. Maybe it means something. Maybe it's just a number. But the number—completely unique to you—is a tattoo, and it does not come off.

If you enter the room adjacent to the medbay, you will find a small locker with your number on it, surrounded by rows upon rows of identical lockers. Inside, you will find a few of your personal items, a communications device, and a ship's uniform in your exact size. The comms device is fully powered and connects directly to the ship's network; it's your only means of communication beyond physical conversation. Upon turning the device on, a neutral, automated voice will say, "Please take the blue lift to the passenger quarters." Any other attempts at communicating with the rest of the network are met only with static.

This is your welcome party.

Comments

dealt!

[handelaar]

[There's a moment where he flicks his eyes back and forth between her and Lodewijk and his expression is probably comically frozen in an "uh", cigarette hanging in the air, as he tries to decide just who she's talking to. No hesitation at returning her gesture, though, even if he still looks slightly puzzled over it all.

Her answer isn't really an answer, so he tilts his head to the side and scoots so that she can sit between him and the rabbit if she wants to. Maybe she was worried the jump took him back, or something.]

No, you're not.

[The snark is followed by a brow raise. So what's different this time?]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Okay, that look on his face is adorable. Almost makes her wish she had been talking to him just so she could've seen the reaction. But yeah, she'll slip in there - and then basically defeat the purpose of it by scooping the little guy up and cradling him to her chest.]

Not a big fan of fire.

[Heather that does absolutely zero to explain why you'd come over here to investigate. She nods at the ashtray, the cigarette in his hand.]

Everything okay?

[handelaar]

[Another blink and he follows, tilts his head slightly toward the ashtray and then the smoke in his hand in turn before he gets it. For some reason the thought that she'd notice when he smokes is strange to him. Shouldn't be. He nods and taps his cigarette against the makeshift tray.]

Advertisement.

[At that he gives her a sidelong glance, takes a drag, maybe looks a little too pleased about it all.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[In all honesty she's so used to seeing him with a cigarette that she very nearly doesn't notice. It's really that he's doing it there and in rapid succession that gets her attention. That explanation should have been obvious, really, and for all she shakes her head at him it makes her laugh - maybe a little huskier than usual. Crying'll do that to her.]

Enticing people over when they're all stressed out and feeling like they really need one? That's... kinda genius.

[Maybe they've known each other too long, because that is straight-up admiration for a cunning plan. Good thinking, Ned.]

[handelaar]

[Not the response he was expecting - much better than any admonishment or swat - but some of the amusement in his smoky half-laugh is cut with the feeling that there's something he's missing.]

Mm. Some passengers on the network didn't know they could get it here...

[So instead of making a post he's making a scene, of sorts. He finishes it off with a lazy, halted shrug, fabric of his scarf and jumpsuit getting caught against the wall. Lodewijk's actually awake and making a concentrated effort to get his bunny self (and kisses) all over her, and that coupled with the nagging feeling in the back of his mind has him pursing his mouth, sending a questioning look up at her from under his bangs.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[She tries, for a moment, to ignore the look. That'll fly, right, she's got an armful of smoochy bunny who is -

practically telling on her, she realizes belatedly. Thanks, Lodewijk. She gives him a little smooch back and sighs, tries to blow her hair out of her face despite it being too damp to go anywhere.]

Guy showed up looks just like Tillman. Kinda threw me.

[handelaar]

[Guy who looks like - oh, that asshole. Even if he doesn't say the words it's all over his face for the few seconds before he can school his expression into something neutral. Fuck that guy and fuck the guy who looks like that guy.

It takes a short bout of huffy smoking to get over it (again, confusing, no good reason for it) but he glances over, makes sure that Lodewijk's got things covered.

After pinching out the end of his cigarette he crosses his arms and sighs, tilts his shoulders at a weird angle to the wall so that one slides down toward her.]

How kinda.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[She'd probably get huffy over him getting huffy - Tillman was important to her, okay, even if it was all confusing and messed up - except the answer to that question is a lot and she's well aware the crying jag she interrupted at the time is going to sneak back up on her when she's alone. Shoulder, though. She's just gonna rest her head against it, still petting Lodewijk's ears.]

Thought it was him. Ran over, made an idiot of myself. Figured out it wasn't him and made an idiot of myself again. Jesus, they're so alike though. I'm - kinda glad Simon left before this.

['cause she's pretty sure he'd have cried too, and holy shit would that have made him angry.]

[handelaar]

Oh.

[That is. More kinda than he was thinking. What he was thinking was something like Marty and Topher, or Chell, but that sounds pretty damn horrible. Like if the England who had shown up wasn't actually England at all... he gives his head a shake and reaches out, squeezes her knee. (Doesn't notice that it's a comforting gesture he's picked up from her, either.)]

[sweetmotherofgod]

Yeah.

[Times like this she's grateful that he's not the chatty type. That little touch, one syllable, it's more comforting than somebody trying to talk her through it.

Or maybe that's just because it's him.]

Embarrassing. But I'll deal. This place.

[Said with more exasperation than anything because really, this place. If it wasn't Constant Mortal Peril it'd actually (almost, maybe, not really) be funny. She shifts her head a little against his shoulder so she can look up at him, which mostly just gets her a view of his ear and jaw and chin but whatever.]

Have you had any bites yet?

[handelaar]

[This place, he's right there with her on that front, albeit with more frustration. This place and its steadfast refusal to follow any plan, or worse, to seem to follow a plan only to foil things once someone got too close to figuring it out. He squeezes her knee again and lets Lodewijk take care of the rest - the little guy is better at both picking up on things and comforting - glances down to see her looking up out of the corner of his eye.]

Bites...

[Sadly the first place his mind goes is to hellbeasts, but as his other hand raises to his jaw (not a bite, but close enough) he realizes and drops it in his lap.]

Mm, no. Might hafta go on the network.

[Eugh.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Can anyone silently communicate eugh without completely contorting their face as effectively as he can? She's pretty sure the answer's no, and she leans up to press a chaste little kiss over those scars with a mouth half-curled in a smile.]

Could get someone else to do it for you. Maybe give someone you're already supplying a better deal in exchange for promoting?

[handelaar]

[With her head on his shoulder just how oversensitive those scars are might be obvious. While he can keep his face straight, that shudder that runs down his spine each time is completely involuntary. In fact he's so focused on her proposal that he doesn't notice.]

Hafta be someone good at - [a really, really half-assed hand wave while he fishes up the common, english acronym] - PR.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[She notes that shudder, but can't tell if it's good or bad. This isn't the place, anyway; she just leaves it alone, settles for focusing her affection on the rabbit for now.]

Mm. Not too good. Don't want people to think they're gonna get conned.

[She'd make a suggestion, but... well, the only person who comes to mind is Josias, and while she doesn't bear the guy any ill-will that's not something she wants to have to try to explain in the middle of the jump bay. And that's quite aside from the fact that she doesn't know if he can even talk yet.]

[handelaar]

So - [and then he sort of dissolves into silent chuckling. No sound comes out, not really, just little puffs and huffs of air while his grin twists into something that straddles the line between a profits smile and open amusement. Shoulders still shake though, and he tries not to jostle her too much.

Although she doesn't have to wait long to hear about what's so damned funny; he's happy to share.]

Russia, huh.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Oh

Oh that's perfect. He's attractive, he's charming (when he wants to be), and he also seems just sketchy enough that people will think they know exactly what they're getting into. She can't help laughing along.]

Would he do it? He'd be amazing.

[handelaar]

Smokes, too.

[Not too often, but he assumes it's because of the lack of cigarettes more than any desire to curb the habit. And it's hard to know for sure whether Russia would or wouldn't without asking, but his sigh gives it away before he says a word - probably not.]

Likes to keep quiet.

[sweetmotherofgod]

[That sigh. Sounds like he's giving up before he's tried, and she nudges him gently with her shoulder.]

You'll ask, though, right?

['cmon Netherlands it's worth a shot]

[handelaar]

[At that he just gives her a wary look, like he thinks that she might be up to something. What it could be he has no idea - and whatever it is he thinks it's harmless - but her interest in this isn't something that makes sense to him, either. Not like she's getting a cut of the profits and she definitely doesn't smoke.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[Netherlands please. That warrants a not-actually indignant look and a shrug.]

Hey, I just want this to go well for you!

[...]

Also it stinks over here. I didn't quit so I could end up smelling like an ashtray anyway.

[handelaar]

Uh-huh.

[Heather that's weird. You're weird. But at this point he's just going to roll with it.]

Didn't...

[wait wait wait]

Didn't what?

[sweetmotherofgod]

Quit.

[blink]

Smoking?

[Because apparently there is some confusion over that despite the fact that they are talking about cigarettes, the trading thereof, and their usefulness in manipulating smokers. Except wow that's a lot of inflection from him all of a sudden, and she's wondering whether she's going to have to point out that there is no point trying to get her to take it up again because she doesn't have anything he wants.

Except what she'll pretty cheerfully give him for free, of course.]

[handelaar]

You smoked.

[No, no wait.]

You quit smoking.

[WHO QUITS SMOKING. There's nothing close to the idea of getting her to take it up again, actually. Just an honest to goodness shock because after this long of her either turning it down or ignoring it so completely that he isn't sure she even notices he smokes half the time, the idea that she used to - not just used to, was a smoker - just blows his mind.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[It's probably not very nice to laugh at the stunned look on his face, but she does anyway. Does kind of drive home that for all that he's the first person she's ever cared about that she's told all the big stuff, there's a lot of little stuff she's never bothered to mention. Somehow, out here, it never seems that important.]

Yeah. To both.

the best tag you'll ever get

[handelaar]

[HUFF.]