hatch log, ota

[dbag]

CHARACTERS: Rhys and [insert your name here!!]
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: Day 166
SUMMARY: Desecration of perfectly good PJs, crapping of diamonds, and peeping.
WARNINGS: nunzo

( A ) NESTING DECK

[ It's the last one. It's only right that we both open it. That's the best part. It takes a moment to register that the walls around him are the Station's and not the Vault's — he blinks once, twice, to reorient himself. No stranger to cables and wiring in his body, he unplugs with little fuss, like it's just another day. There's only something wrong once the headache comes barreling in, a sudden dull ache all over like there's something inside his head trying to push and claw its way out. Internally bemoaning the unfairness of pain in exchange for such a simple action — if you're not supposed to unplug, they should put up a sign — Rhys scrambles for the cubicle, starkly empty save for two items: one familiar, the other foreign. He pockets the stun baton before inspecting the clothing.

Plain white pajamas befitting a mental patient. While in no position to judge anyone's fashion sense, he's offended at the suggestion he dress in them all the same. What's next, he wonders, onesies? In spite of his better sense, he makes the unwise choice not to take the only other clothing offered. (He'll wear the same gross clothes every day, and he'll look incredible, thank you.) Instead of gathering them in his arms to take to Life Support, he takes one last look at them before balling them up and throwing them down the ladder. Good riddance.

He chucks them further and more forcefully than intended, but there's no sound of cloth hitting the floor. Rhys listens for a moment, perplexed, then climbs down the ladder to investigate. No pajamas on the floor, he notes, entertaining the idea that they were so ugly the lord smote them out of existence. They still very much exist, but not where he'd expected. When he makes his way off the ladder, he spots them, not on the floor but hanging on a human head, having hit them directly in the face. It can't have hurt, and although he'd be annoyed for the rest of the day were he in their shoes, he feels an apology is unnecessary. Or maybe too much effort, what with the headache and nearly escaping death with a daring rescue and all. ]

You can keep those.

[ He inclines his head and clicks his tongue, as if he's doing them a favor. In reality, he'd rather just see them gone. ]

( B ) HALLWAY

[ The Station is so sparsely populated it almost feels like a ghost town. It seems intended for hundreds of people, but they must be coming fashionably late to the party. He almost expects it to echo when he idly calls out. ] Helloooo?

[ No one answers, as expected. He stands in awkward silence for a moment, with nothing to do but stare at the walls. A few seconds pass before, in 'Good Morning Vietnam' fashion, he shouts, ] Goooooood morning, Station! [ As before, no response — he smiles like a kid who's just been left home alone realizing he doesn't have to wear pants around the house anymore. Pacing in this hallway, he can say anything. The others could be anywhere, but most importantly, they aren't here. ]

I have thirteen toes! [ A pause. ] I crap diamonds! One time, I made out with a duck!

[ As he reaches the end of the hallway, he turns and realizes he's not as alone as he thought. There, at the distant other end, stands a person. He'd likely have noticed their arrival had he not been shouting nonsense into the ether. Deflating, he grimaces.

Nonchalantly: ]

—Oh, heyyy.

( C ) LIFE SUPPORT

[ Life Support is the least strange part of the Station, which is oddly comforting. It's a 'take what you can get, beggars can't be choosers' situation; on its own, it's still peculiar, but compared to everything else, it's a hotel room in a goddamn five star resort. The lack of doors is the most puzzling part of all. Why have doorways without doors? It shouldn't be so surprising, given that the theme of tonight's event is togetherness, but it still seems a violation of privacy.

Violation or not, it doesn't stop Rhys from spying. He rationalizes that he's trying to see which rooms are occupied, but the truth is he's hoping for entertainment. Maybe he'll eavesdrop on some nasty gossip or find out who's got a newly bloodied knife on their bed. Unfortunately, he lacks the stealth required to be a proper spy. While he'd love to backflip around the hallway and limbo under invisible lasers, it isn't in the cards. His snooping around is hardly covert, and he makes little effort to hide it. If they weren't supposed to look in, after all, there would be doors. He's doing his civic duty.

Hope you don't mind someone stopping to peek in your room. ]

( D ) WILDCARD

[ do whatever you want! choose your own adventure! go hog wild! if you need me, i'm at regnant. ]

Comments

[dbag]

[ Rhys brightens at Sam's (mild) approval; he's friendly enough, even if he comes off as a bit weirded out. You can't blame him for that, anyway. It's still a better reaction than Rhys often gets. ]

Hey. [ He shoots him a singular finger gun out of pure habit. ] Rhys, [ he says, stressing the eese. ]

And, uh, evidently. Just... [ He pantomimes ripping a cord out of the back of his head. ] Unplugged. Having oodles of fun already.

[frakkincylons]

Good to meet you. [ genuinely, sam isn't usually full of shit. this dude seems pretty enjoyable, despite being sort of a smart ass, but like Sam or anyone he's been friends with in the past has much room to talk. ]

Yeah, kind of a trip, that thing. And the whole Nesting deck. [ the plug in your skull, the hivemind feel, all of it. ]

Anyone give you the welcome speech yet?

[dbag]

[ He widens his eyes, raises his eyebrows, and nods emphatically at the mention of the Nesting Deck; Sam's preaching to the choir. His next words, though, give him pause. ]

That— depends on what the welcome speech is? Sort of vague phrasing.

[ If there's an official spiel, no one's given him the script yet. Shrugging noncommittally: ] I mean, I'm still waiting on my 'welcome to the neighborhood' muffin basket and everything, so...

[frakkincylons]

Sorry, left my baking pans and oven mitts at home. [ shruuuuuug. next time, homeslice, next time. except not really because they aren't going anywhere else. and also because sam has no effing clue how to bake. ]

I mean the one about what you're here to fight, and what the symbiote is, and how to train your powers, and the part where it sinks you more into the hivemind.

[ giving rhys a WELP sort of face, because, uh. ]

It's not that cheery of a welcome speech.

[dbag]

Oh. That welcome speech. Yep.

[ He pops the 'P', nearly scowling. It was a very intimidating speech, by a very intimidating girl. Not his favorite moment, so far. When Sam makes him chocolate chip muffins, that will be his favorite moment. ]

I gotta say, nnnnot very welcoming for a welcome speech. The delivery was just.. all wrong.

[frakkincylons]

Not really. Sorry, man.

[ he does genuine feel bad for it. it's not great to hear for anyone, but if they're anything like him, they'd rather know it sooner than later. thankfully someone else seemed to have given him the whole thing already. ]

But hey, at least you're not dead? [ which is apparently good news for most people. everyone but Sam. ]

[dbag]

Hey, the day's not over yet! [ It's a very poor attempt at a joke; considering how close he'd been to death not long before, it's more accurate than anything else — probably best not to rule out the possibility of horrible, agonizing death just yet. ] But. Yeah. Not currently dead, so that's always a plus.

[ He gives a thumbs up on both his flesh and robotic hand, looking terribly asymmetrical. ]

And you, [ he says, turning one of his thumbs up into a point in Sam's direction, ] aren't a terrifying robot girl. [ OR ARE YOU... Lexa isn't actually a robot, as far as he knows, but she certainly isn't very lifelike. ] Also a plus.

[frakkincylons]

That's the spirit. [ said with a morbid chuckle. hey, there's no better humor than "we're all probably going to die" humor, okay.

that is. that is a robot hand. okay. but the other his human, and Sam's assuming, if the man didn't make the prosthetic blend well, it's probably the lack of technology. So, okay, he can't be all machine, then.

Aaaand then there's the bit about terrifying robot girl hahaha... haha.... now that you mention it. ]

Uh. Yep, definitely not that. [ at least. not the 'girl" part. haaaa. ] Who was the girl you ran into?