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hatch log, ota
WHERE: The Station
WHEN: Day 166
SUMMARY: Desecration of perfectly good PJs, crapping of diamonds, and peeping.
WARNINGS: nunzo
( A ) NESTING DECK
( B ) HALLWAY[ 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. ]
( C ) LIFE SUPPORT[ 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.
( D ) WILDCARD[ 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. ]
[ do whatever you want! choose your own adventure! go hog wild! if you need me, i'm atregnant. ]
no subject
He closes his eyes, takes a breath and— laughs. As he breathes out, he almost snorts, not because it's actually funny in any way but because it's so incredibly uncomfortable to be sitting there across from her, trying to listen to mind radio. ]
Sorry, it's just— maybe you could not look at me? Yeah, no, that just makes it weirder. I just... never mind, never mind. I got it.
[ His hands come up to wave in front of him as he shakes his head, like that will somehow clear his thoughts. Closing his eyes again, he takes a breath, still smiling like he's holding back an uncomfortable laugh. It's an improvement over actually laughing. He's suddenly very aware of his thoughts, like when someone reminds you that you're breathing and blinking and it becomes much less automatic.
Okay, he thinks. Okay. ...Stop thinking 'okay.' Pressing his lips together tightly and wrinkling his brow in concentration, he tries to do as she says, 'feeling' the nest. (He wishes people would stop referring to it as feeling, like he's feeling up all of their minds.) That's the easy part, really, letting it all flood in. It feels unnatural but effortless at the same time, but it's mostly just weird.
Turning it down, though, that's another matter — she talks about it like it's supposed to be easy, but there isn't actually a volume control for his thoughts. It takes a moment, but it does start to work. Right before he loses concentration and everything goes back to normal. (Well, as normal as this can be.) Eyes still closed, he grimaces, and asks, ] You guys can't hear the song stuck in my head, right?
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.... It's not as bad as Main Frame? [ She gives him an encouraging smile, which isn't really yes or no, but she'd spare him that for his pride. ] But that was good, I know it's a little overwhelming to start with, you will get there, trust me. We're all miserable when we start out.
[ But that was one skill down, there wasn't much else but practise for it. ] Do you want to try talking mentally now?
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[ He'd get pissy about it, actually, but it sounds better to be cool and unaffected. ]
—But, uh. About the mind talking thing. Is that a thing people actually do?
[ His expression is somewhere between amused and disturbed, appropriate since his feelings on the matter are very mixed. On one hand, it's telepathy, like they're superheroes or something. On the other hand, he's had enough of someone else's voice in his head for the rest of his life. ]
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( What do you think? )
[ Purposefully doesn't open her mouth, just reaches her mind out. Doesn't dig, she had promised not to, just echoes oddly back to him. A raw pour of static to her voice, or maybe too many things speaking together that crackle together. Being in siren as she said, more in mind than in body. ]
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Ooh, that's a tough one, I'm gonna say no? [ It's an attempt to sound lighthearted and breezy about the whole thing, but it falls flat, as hivemind telepathy is hardly a lighthearted and breezy subject. ] —No, yeah, it's a thing. You just think it at someone? Okay, I'm just gonna... do that. Easy peasy.
[ He takes in a breath sharply, mostly for the dramatic effect, holding it like he's about to talk back telepathically— then he lets it go, holding up a finger like he just needs a second as he tries to clear his mind, an arduous task. There's too many distracting things just floating by. ]
( Thoughts. Thinking. God, my nose itches. Oh, I didn't meant to say that. Think that? Think-say that. I re— ) [ Interjecting: ] —gret this train of thought.
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( That's it, you're doing really well. )
[ Still far too nice, apparently, she doesn't really see the point of being awful. Jack had done that plenty enough for everyone.
Switches out of it as easy though, settling back to let him -- recover maybe. His mind certainly was a jumble of his nerves. This was stressful for anyone the first time around anyway. ]
When you want to talk to the nest, just push the thought to the front of your mind, direct it out, it'll help us all hear it. You'll find all our minds feel and sound differently, that will help you distinguish who you are speaking to. So when you only want to speak to one person in particular, reach for that one mind and push your thoughts at them directly.
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Man, you're like a flesh and blood setup wizard. [ He can imagine her popping up in the corner of his screen with a speech bubble containing 'Helpful Tips'. ] I mean, in a good way? Thanks.
[ For a moment, he looks like he's thinking about getting up and leaving, but wants to say something first — concentrating, he thinks of how to correctly phrase it. ]
So that was super weird, right? [ Not the best start, but he pushes forward. ] I just mean, like, you know. I Jack-attacked, all up in your face. I'm just saying, I'm pretty great at pretending uncomfortable situations never happened, lots of practice. So is that gonna be a thing, or not a thing, orrrr...
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-- but he cuts her off. The forced cheer cuts itself away and her head drops. She's not mad at him. What had he done? Hits it directly is probably more the issue. She has been trying so hard since she came here, to let Jack go. To let her life be about anything else other than what he had done to her. ]
You weren't exactly what I was expecting so soon, no. [ catches her thumb nail against the pad of her finger. Scrapping backwards and forwards as she tries to put it all out. ] But look, I... my father did... awful things to me and through me. [ Get it out quick, rip the band aid off. Fact is he might be the only person that understand, having Jack rolling around in his head. ] He kept me locked up in servitude for years, drugged me with eridium, used my abilities to get his position and control Pandora. So if you're asking what I want, then it's that I just want to move on. I want to move on past all of that... this is finally my chance to do that. [ a deep breath, calmer, it's alright, it's alright, he's not here, he's not here. No matter that his saying that Jack lived in his head makes her want to sink her abilities into his eye and arm just to make sure every scrap is gone. ]
And if that's what you want too, then I think we can work something out?
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Right. Okay, I can do that! I can do that. But— maybe not right this second, so I'm gonna head out if that's cool. [ He stands without waiting for a response, forcing her to once again crane her neck to look past his Big Bird-esque physique. ] Thanks, though, for the... set-up wizardry. I mean— [ Concentrating very hard so as not to send his entire uninterrupted stream of consciousness directly into her head. ] ( Thanks. )
[ One entire word! In mock-pride: ] Ha, look at that! The student has become the master. Anyway, yeah, I'm gonna go, thanks for the master class, uh, that's about it. Be safe, make good choices, all that. See you later?
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Thank you, Rhys. You too. [ About to leave it, as he turns to go but he just -- there's something wonderfully optimistic about him, she supposes after knowing him for a whole five minutes. Or at least not as sanded off to the roughest parts like she supposes their corner of the galaxy left everyone.
Worrying is a hobby, it's what she does so very well. ] Be careful, with some of the others. They're as dangerous as anything you'd find on Pandora. If you need me, I'll be right there for you, I'll help you however I can.
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Oh, you're serious.
[ Her authenticity throws him off; no one does that, offers their help for no reason, or at least they don't offer it to Rhys. (And definitely not after he mentions her megalomaniac father getting a second chance at life through him.) But she does, apparently, and it's getting difficult to think of ways to respond to someone so hell-bent on being helpful. ]
Okay. Trust me, I can totally handle myself out there, but. I'll keep it in mind.
[ Translation: gonna have to call on Angel for help 2 seconds after leaving this room probably?? ]
And ditto. I mean, if you need something off a tall shelf or something, [ points to himself, clicking his tongue, ] I'm your guy.
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Thanks, I'll keep it in mind.
[ She's good at taking it all in her stride at least outwardly. A little bit later when everything he's said just said sinks in, will be a different matter. But for right now, she can't think of him as much more than just one more victim of Jack. Enough that she doesn't exactly want to act on that impulse to rip his head apart to make sure there wasn't anything left in his mind of Jack. ]
Good luck. You'll be fine, though, really.
[ and she leaves it there, heading back to her desk to put her head down to work again with the small bits and pieces she had been building. ]