ataraxionlogs | eighteenth jump;

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

[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.

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.

[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]

[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.]

[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.

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?

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.]

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.]

[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.

[HUFF.]

What?

[Seriously, what was she supposed to do? Just slip it into conversation one day all casual-like and hope he didn't think she was trying to get preachy at him? No thanks. She manages to rein the laughter in, just shrugs.]

I don't get why this is so shocking.

[She laughed at him that's what. So he crosses his arms and huffs again, tries to look more annoyed than curious and it works for about ten seconds.]

How long did ya -

[A one-shouldered shrug, accompanied by an expectant tilt of his head, half a nod and half that he's paying attention. (And no he's not answering her not-a-question because it'd take too much internal examination to figure it out.)]

[Okay not laughing anymore. Not even smirking, even if that question is kinda ridiculous considering how short any amount of time in her life is probably going to seem to him.]

Uh, about three years? But I stopped for a few months in the middle.

... and then you quit.

[In theory he gets why people quit, but he's never actually met someone who has for good. So, yeah, he looks a little awestruck over the whole thing. And there are plenty of reasons for someone to quit but when it's someone like her who keeps masks because she knew an alcoholic that one time, or something, he wants to hear her own reasoning behind it.]

Why.

[Wow feeling kind of scrutinized over here! There are a lot of feelings it that story and half of them are ones even she doesn't totally understand. So she shrugs.]

I just... didn't feel the way I felt when I started anymore. And then somebody I knew asked me to stop so I figured, why not?

[Definitely doesn't get that. The first statement, especially. But he doesn't comment over it, chalks it up to a weird Heather thing rather than a weird citizen thing.]

An' you just. Stopped.

[Whoa.]

[Wait is he... impressed? No, it's gotta just be confusion.]

I think just is probably giving me a little too much credit. I ate about a million lollipops and I got super bitchy for a while.

[Netherlands if you ask how that's different from normal she will punch you :| ]

[He would but there aren't lollipops in space.]

How long was that.

[Actually very keenly interested. Leaning forward with his hands on his knees and everything.]

[OKAY THIS IS ACTUALLY REALLY WEIRD SHE FEELS LIKE SHE'S BEING INTERVIEWED

but she shakes her head, huffs a little laugh.]

Felt like a year. I think it was about three, four weeks? Took longer to stop wanting to, but that was just willpower.

[Why

is he

so interested

she's damn sure it's not because he's thinking of quitting, but that's as far as her ideas go.]

eighteenth jump;

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the best tag you'll ever get

i quit rp there will never be another tag as beautiful as that

exquisite in its simplicity obv.

it's like poetry. very short poetry.

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