OPEN

[2leftfeet]

CHARACTERS: Shepard & YOU
LOCATION: Various
WARNINGS: N/A, will edit if necessary
SUMMARY: Catch all for pre-recon
NOTES: Feel free to wildcard the starter or contact me for something else if you're not feeling any of the ones I have up! Prose or action aokay.


I. DECK 023 REC ROOM

[The rec room farthest to stern on 23 has slowly been rigged into a hub for these recon missions, couches and low tables pushed around into a semblance of order and and video screen son the wall mainly re-purposed for going over and archiving data. She and a few unlucky volunteers have most categorized everything workable from the last recon, but she's clearly expecting more work in the future and has pinned down the space for the foreseeable future.

Anyone who isn't a volunteer for recon is likely to be on the receiving end of a steady, sidelong look and a pointed 'Looking for something?' There's something honed down and steely about her that mostly does a serviceable job of chasing anyone not totally determined out. For anyone part of the mission or looking to speak to Shepard in person, her kitbashed war room is the safe first bet as she can usually be found there sitting on one of the couches, one leg tucked up under herself, absently worrying her teeth against the inside of her cheek as she carefully sorts through reports and messages from various sources.

They're leaving on round two soon and there's still a lot of crap to get sorted.]

II. GYM

[Not holding the fort down in the rec-room-turned-war-room? Better check the nearest gym. Call her single minded, but there's something pleasant about the work: if not paper work, then running herself ragged (literally) as she jogs carefully timed, deliberate laps around the outside of the large room. Most of it's just practice: moving through form and technique with a certain level of aptitude brought along by years of practice, though she'll jump at the chance should a sparring partner show their face.

She'd give her right hand to be spending more time in gunnery but with limited ammunition, she's not going to burn through her reserve on target practice. This though? She can run her body pretty hard when she wants to.]

III. WASHROOM

[Freshly showered, dressed in an undershirt and jumpsuit with the arms of the latter tied around her waist, she's standing in front of one of the many sinks in the communal washroom and patiently wringing her hair out over the sink. It must be off hours; there's no one else in the bathroom and it's... quiet. Bone deep. Residual warmth from the steam of the shower trapped by the seal of the door clings to the faucets and the edge of the mirrors, her skin. Her hair's gotten long, she thinks somewhat suddenly an frowns at the dark, uneven ends in her fist. She needs a haircut. Thinks maybe she should just hack it all off.

And for a moment, Shepard straightens - lets the towel in her other hand sag around her shoulders - to regard herself in the mirror. She thinks she looks strange with her hair down as it is. Carefully drawing it up, N7 dogtags clinking around her neck, she squints at her reflection and tries to imagine what it'd look like cut short.

The moment the hatch yawns open to admit another passenger, she makes to snap her hands down.]

Comments

Gym! Be kind

[jurisimpudent]

[There's something certainly off about the way that Edgeworth trains. That shouldn't be the case: he was trained by Tyke, after all, and if there's anyone who knows how to run a good and reasonable training regimen it is her. And, indeed, there are a lot of good elements about his workout as he trains against the punching bag - he's got a good stance, punches effectively, punches hard. He's trained up muscle in the right places, moves swiftly and precisely.

But what's off is that he is throwing his all into this training regimen. He's going at the bags as hard and as fierce as he would if it were a fight for his life. He doesn't even notice Shepard in the same room: he's focused completely on what's before him, and he is tearing into the bags with ferocity to match. He's breathing hard; his face is marked with sweat -

And then, all at once, he steps back from his workout - stumbles back, really - right into Shepard's path.]

[2leftfeet]

[Edgeworth isn't the only one operating in his own personal bubble. Shepard's lost count of how many laps she's done, though is becoming slowly aware of a distinct burn through her calves and thighs and she sets her pace: consistent, forward, head slightly bent, breath sucking in sharp and even. Her focused is narrowed to a point - the clip of her foot falls on the deck, the radiation of the force up her legs and through her knees, her lower back, the rattle of compression in her chest and shoulders. One, two, one, two--

She has to side step hard, twisting away to avoid the otherwise imminent collision Edgeworth stepped back into and she very nearly bowled straight through. She throws out an arm out, pinwheeling and lurching to reset her balance. It's not exactly a graceful maneuver in any sense of the word.]

Watch it!

[jurisimpudent]

[He whirls, his eyes wide, his face pale. He's breathing hard, and there's fear in his expression. It's fear altogether incommensurate with what's going on here; also altogether inappropriate is the desperation with which he throws out a hand, reaching towards her as she stumbles.

Yet for all of that, for all that he's consumed by thoughts of something else, something more violent, something past, there's no violence in his actions: a telekinetic grip wraps gently around her shoulders, providing her with only as much support as she needs to remain upright and regain her balance. Then it's gone, and he's shakily dropping into a deep bow.]

I - I am - truly sorry. I - Please, are you...all right?

[2leftfeet]

[There's something so familiar about the telekinetic buffer that she doesn't even recognize it until she's steady again on the flats of her boots. She's bristling as he bows, barely recognizing the gesture.]

You're a biotic?

[There's no keeping the interrogative edge out of her voice, though maybe that's just the shortness of breath as she sucks down air, sweat thick on her brow and chest.]

[jurisimpudent]

A...what?

[He straightens and shakes his head. His brows are furrowed.]

I - Forgive me. I'm not familiar with that term.

[But it's not as though he doesn't know what she's referring to. That power which he for so long tried to keep a secret - which too many know of now, which hasn't helped him for anything, which has proved useless for helping anyone, for saving anyone...What else is there to comment on?

He doesn't want to comment on it at all. He tries to change the subject.]

I hope I have not done you harm, ma'am, and sincerely regret my recklessness.

4 BUCKY

[2leftfeet]

[She'd shot off a message to 'Davis' earlier in the day requesting he meet her in the re-purposed rec room at his earliest convenience. The moment he arrives on the scene, Shepard's rolling up onto her feet and tossing her communicator onto the table in front of her. There's no missing the severe lines in her expression, mouth drawn - a note of tension across her shoulders.]

Glad you could make it.

[He knows military in some way shape or form; he must recognize the beginnings of a dressing down when he sees it.]

[lostsoldier]

[ He does, and he can't exactly say he's surprised. Chances of him making it off on recon unnoticed had never been high, and that was before the rosters got posted.


So she sends her message, and he comes around the rec room without so much as a reluctant delay, boots settling shoulder-width apart in front of her and arms brought to rest at-ease behind his back. A quick flick of his gaze is the only sign of apprehension. ]

You called.

[ So he came, as if it's that simple, and that's all he says, waiting for her to make the first move. ]

[2leftfeet]

[At least he's doing her the favor of taking it like a man. There's a second where her jaw sets, a muscle in her cheek shooting taut.]

Davis, huh? [It's not really a question she needs answered; that much would be obvious even if she didn't jump straight forward.] I'd ask if you actually know how to handle a firearm, but given the reason someone thought it necessary to report you in the first place I'm willing to bet that much at least is true. Is there a reason you felt it necessary to go around making me look like an idiot or is this just a fun hobby for you?

[lostsoldier]

That wasn't exactly my goal. [ Dry, more than cheeky; he knows that isn't going to do him any favors right now. ]

I told you I could help. I can. Just didn't figure you'd be real keen on the idea if you had a chat with Security first.

[2leftfeet]

And you just thought the five plus volunteers we have from that Department alone wouldn't connect the dots? Hell, I figured out you were a liar but I didn't have you pegged for a moron.

[Yeah, make that negative favors.]

Rec Room!

[fullmoon]

[ Remus pauses before approaching her, because this could wait. There's no hope of having something ready before the recon teams leave. But he'd like to have a hope of putting something together next time (if there is a next time), so— ]

Sorry, do you have a moment?

[ He has his comms device out and her earlier report open, as well as a small sheaf of paper and a borrowed pen. Old habits. ]

[2leftfeet]

[Whatever she's nose deep in, she gladly abandons at Remus' appearance in her quasi-war-room. Shepard tosses her communications device aside, bringing her foot down from the low table in front of her.]

Sure. [She motions to the couch pulled up opposite of her own.] Take a seat.

Gym

[likescats]

[Death is out for a walk, or rather he's following a cat that is out for a walk. Said cat skirting this way and that in the gym because open space what is this even.]

[2leftfeet]

[Cats. Honestly? She's not really big on cats. They're practically vermin in the low end cities of Earth, persisting in places where nothing else seems to want to bother. The moment Shepard spots the animal in her path, she cuts in off the wall to give it a wide berth.]

[likescats]

[Luckily for you the cat seems to be afraid of you. It skitters off into its owner who offers a nod in greeting. You'll get a strange voice in your head next. It's conversational at least?]

ENJOYING A RUN?

[2leftfeet]

[The voice makes her stop dead, small hairs at the back of her neck prickling. She turns slowly on her heel, looking toward the cloaked figure at the other end of the gym.]

Did you say something?

[Christ, she needs more rack time.]

[likescats]

[The cloaked figure is in turn a rather large skeleton.....with a small cat crawling up his cloak.]

YES. I APOLOGIZE IF I GAVE YOU A FRIGHT. IT IS THE ONLY WAY I CAN TALK. LACK OF VOCAL CHORDS YOU SEE.

a kitchen somewhere

[darkart]

[ Severus makes this offer occasionally, and means it - he doesn't offer to do things if he isn't prepared to follow through - but he's found it rare that anyone takes him up on it. He assumes it's his charming demeanor.

A pan with sauce in it simmers, occasionally aided by a spoon that moves of its own accord while he cuts vegetables carefully. He told Shepard to show up a little while before he thinks he'll be done, because food is better that way, he thinks. Seeing it put together a little, taking in sounds of crackling over stoves and the smells everything puts forth. It's like potionmaking. He uses everything, appreciates everything.

Maybe she won't care, but oh well. He's the one cooking, he will be annoyingly pretentious about it if he damn well wants to. ]

[2leftfeet]

[She doesn't know anything about home cooked meals; Shepard's spent the last fourteen years of her life living off cafeteria food, outer rim rations, field MREs, cheap bar food and too-expensive station restaurants. She sure as hell doesn't cook and her time on the Tranquility hasn't exactly inspired her to start, subsisting mainly on anything she can put in a microwave or gently burn through neglect somewhere between preparation and her plate.

But she can appreciate when something smells good and there's no missing that particular element of the process as she arrives in the kitchen. It digs, suddenly ravenous for something that didn't come directly out of can.]

Hell. And here I thought I wasn't really that hungry.

[Shepard's not shy about crossing from the door to where he's working, trying to get a look.]

[darkart]

[ He looks over his shoulder at her by way of greeting - his expression is briefly amused, in his 'schedules his daily facial expression' sort of near-stoic way. ]

Your timing is somewhat lucky, [ he tells her, not minding the look over his shoulder. ] I'd hazard there won't be much besides what the gardens can offer again, soon. That said - if you're a vegetarian, you should have told me earlier.

[ Because there is some kind of space cowbearpig meat involved in this. Probably in more than one place. look man i don't cook ]

[2leftfeet]

If I'm a vegetarian, I don't know about it.

[Dry, lame humor at it's best. Congratulations, Severus. You're among the few who have deigned to reach the hallowed halls of 'Commander Shepard's terrible jokes that are barely jokes'landia.

But she's not going to stay hovering over his shoulder forever, promptly peeling off to fetch a glass of water while he slaves away over the hot stove. What she wouldn't give for a cold beer that didn't taste like someone made it in a toilet.]

Ever thought about giving lessons? Apparently no one here knows how to feed themselves.

THE GYM!!!

[wiped]

[ so thomas has no idea what to do in the gym.

he's hovering by a set of weights, looking out of place. they aren't leaving yet, and thomas can't glue himself to teresa, as much as he might like to. ( maybe he could. but he's too embarrassed to consider it. ) so he's wandering, ended up in the gym because that's where his feet took him. he doesn't know how to operate most of the machines, and his formal training for anything had mostly been, run fast and don't die.

thomas is good at both of those things, but he's pretty certain shepard wants more from him. or maybe she just wants him out of her way, because he nearly collides with her when he walks into the room. ]

Sorry, sorry! I didn't see you coming.

[ smooth as fuck, right. ]

[2leftfeet]

[Sure, real smooth. We're talking an overland ride in the Mako smooth and that's, what, only the cause of approximately half the neck injuries sustained in the service?

Shepard just quick enough on her feet to avoid trampling him completely, though there's no avoiding clipping shoulder to shoulder. She reaches out by instinct to catch at his arm, deciding at the last moment to steady Thomas instead of just dumping him backwards. You're welcome.]

What the hell're you doing?

[Sharper than she really means (maybe) due to the suck of air necessary to get it out.]

[wiped]

[ thomas being underfoot is just a thing. it's just how it is. this is maybe more literal than usual, but it's par for the course. alby wouldn't have even blinked. shepard's a little like him, sharp, efficient, but it's not--

things are different in small ways. this isn't the glade, but it feels like it sometimes, and sometimes the people on board feel like gladers. sometimes it makes thomas homesick, and wasn't that just shucking stupid? ]

I was looking for something to do.

[ what else is new. ]

I thought maybe there'd be something in here I could try. Maybe help me survive out there?

[ he tacks it on like thomas isn't sure it's the right thing to say. surviving has always been on a wing and prayer. preparation went into other things. ]

[2leftfeet]

Punching manticores apparently isn't the recommended approach.

[Subtle digs at Edgeworth where no one will notice them for five hundred.

Rocking back onto her heels, she takes a moment to swallow the knot of exertion high in her chest. Sucks in a breath and scrapes her hair back from her forehead (wildly unnecessary, but clearly habitual). Shepard tosses a glance in toward the machines.]

But a little cross training never killed anyone.