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

[adamance]

[A supervillain. She's not exactly unaware of what a villain is, but she finds herself not appreciating that remark all the same. For him to boil down such a simple concept to a matter of villainy is useless. It shows how little he'll be able to keep things to himself.]

Emotions are a weakness because people can take advantage of them. And use them. You have to tread lightly so that you aren't predictable. [She sizes him up again with a look that basically says, "I am judging you so much that you're pathetic." She's rather good at looks like that.]

I expected you wouldn't do well with that. You're already predictable. [And there's the impatience to go along with the judgment.]

Don't be anymore difficult than you'll inevitably be for us. If you know how to survive, use your head. [Spoken like someone who doubts he's managed this long without someone taking care of him.]

[dbag]

[ He rolls his eyes petulantly, making a show of muttering under his breath. It feels very unfair to be stuck with Lexa, the complete opposite of everything he is. If there's one thing he takes offense to — there's far more than one thing, really, but this is near the top of the list — it's being called inferior, feeling subjugated. He dealt with it during his time at Hyperion, waiting impatiently for the day when he could crush his rivals under his expensive boots, but not anymore. ]

Oh, I know how to survive, all right.

[ There's so many things he could say. I ripped my own arm off! I shoved a shard of glass into my head port! I nearly died in a space station plummeting to the ground! He can't decide what to choose, though, so it comes out as, ] Are you— rgh— I ki— ugh.

[ He holds up his robotic hand, frowning deeply. ]

We done here, brain-pal?

[ It sounded far better in his head than it does in actuality, but he lets it happen. ]

[adamance]

[The only shift in her expression is subtle. Lexa's face remains cool and unchanged until he raises his hand, and then her eyes move over to take it in. It's unusual. More than that, it's unfamiliar. She doesn't know what to make of it, so she decides to piece it together later.

His emotions are agitating, though she knows that she's the cause for them. That makes it easier for them to deny, accepting full responsibility for it. She does get the sense that what she had meant to hurt hadn't landed the right away, but that other things did. She'll have to piece that together later.]

As I said before: seek out Cathaway. You'll be better equipped after you meet with her. [She intends to do the same to find a means to helping their situation, but she doesn't tell him as much.

That would be too much of a convenience for him, and Lexa only says what she feels needs to be said.]

We'll speak again later. [At least he knows not to die. Now, she'll see if he's actually capable of managing as much.]

[dbag]

[ He wants to say something like, "Like hell I'll seek out Cathaway," just to spite her, but bitterly notes that it's actually a good idea. If Cathaway is at all softer than Lexa, it'll be an improvement. He requires more coddling than Lexa is willing to give. ]

Can't wait.

[ The hand he'd held up to stop the conversation now waves, entirely lifelike except for its appearance. It's more of a sarcastic wave than a genuine one. After his snarky retort, though, he deflates a bit and says, earnestly this time, ] See you later.

[ Having hit his niceness quota, he backs away, irritated expression dropping to one that's more awkward and embarrassed for a split second before he rounds the corner and disappears. ]