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Yeah, I'll put some work in, too. I never actually read the books, so...
Hope I haven't interrupted anything! Do let me know if this scenario seems too unlikely or too obtrusive. =)
Ivy felt a violent shudder rocket down her spine, felt the hairs on her arms and neck stand up at the thought of being trapped in one place for an eternity -- let alone a place occupied by a Jaeger and a corpse, even a well preserved one. Adventure and mystery were all good and well. A slow suffocation seemed much less enticing, inevitable boredom aside.
But her curiosity was quick in beating out her fear, if it could be called as such. Ivy had always lacked a healthy sense of caution, but the last few days in particular had been...strange. Certainly she would not have been here if it hadn't been for some of her more daring moments. But then she'd probably also still have two functioning arms.
"It's just the books?" Ivy repeated slowly as she carefully maneuvered off the desk and toward the nearest shelving unit, an unmistakable note of disappointment in her voice. But as soon as her fingers brushed the spine of the first book she found -- a thick red tome with a spine the color of wine and pages delicate as butterfly wings -- her face brightened again. "All of these are ours now?"
She pulled the heavy book into the awkward cradle of her arm then abruptly sat when she saw that wasn't going to work. Pursing her lips, she took a breath and blew a thick cloud of dust from the cover, which immediate set her to cough, eyes watering. Unperturbed, she squinted through the dusty haze to try and read the symbols on the front of the book. She recognized the letters themselves, but the script and the language made the words almost indecipherable.
Almost.
Without even realizing it, Ivy began to mutter to herself, and endless chain of numbers, her brow furrowed, hardly daring to breathe as she began to make sense of the archaic code.
"What?" she said, distracted first by the layer of dust on her fingertips, then by whatever the books themselves said.
"Th-thehun...theunt...thunt? No...no...The...The...Hunt...The Hunter's...Bun...Bu...Boun...Bounty! The Hunter's Bounty! A...A Gu..Guild...A Guide t-to...L...Life...A...after...After D...Dea -- "
The barge lurched so suddenly and fiercely that the heavy book flew from Ivy's lap as the young Spark tumbled backwards into the desk. Petris, who had managed to break down the globe into two large bowls and a copper stand, immediately abandoned its work to join her as she rubbed her head, frowning.
"Ow!" she grumbled, too shocked to be truly angry. "What's wrong with this stupid thing, we got the engine running, why -- "
She was cut off by a horrendous screeching that soon forced her to put her hands -- or rather, her hand -- to her ears. It was the unmistakable noise of metal tearing metal and it served only to frustrate Ivy further. Hauling herself to her feet, she glared at Jötz accusingly, shouting over the ruckus to be heard.
"What is that?" she demanded. "I was reading that book, and now -- "
Ivy stopped. The screeching had stopped, and everything had fallen quiet. Very quiet.
The Spark made a face, now less angry and more curious. "Hey...why'd the engines stop?"
Her question was answered by an unmistakable, if vaguely mechanic, roar.
Ivy brightened abruptly. "Hey, are there s'posed to be clanks down here?"
But her curiosity was quick in beating out her fear, if it could be called as such. Ivy had always lacked a healthy sense of caution, but the last few days in particular had been...strange. Certainly she would not have been here if it hadn't been for some of her more daring moments. But then she'd probably also still have two functioning arms.
"It's just the books?" Ivy repeated slowly as she carefully maneuvered off the desk and toward the nearest shelving unit, an unmistakable note of disappointment in her voice. But as soon as her fingers brushed the spine of the first book she found -- a thick red tome with a spine the color of wine and pages delicate as butterfly wings -- her face brightened again. "All of these are ours now?"
She pulled the heavy book into the awkward cradle of her arm then abruptly sat when she saw that wasn't going to work. Pursing her lips, she took a breath and blew a thick cloud of dust from the cover, which immediate set her to cough, eyes watering. Unperturbed, she squinted through the dusty haze to try and read the symbols on the front of the book. She recognized the letters themselves, but the script and the language made the words almost indecipherable.
Almost.
Without even realizing it, Ivy began to mutter to herself, and endless chain of numbers, her brow furrowed, hardly daring to breathe as she began to make sense of the archaic code.
"What?" she said, distracted first by the layer of dust on her fingertips, then by whatever the books themselves said.
"Th-thehun...theunt...thunt? No...no...The...The...Hunt...The Hunter's...Bun...Bu...Boun...Bounty! The Hunter's Bounty! A...A Gu..Guild...A Guide t-to...L...Life...A...after...After D...Dea -- "
The barge lurched so suddenly and fiercely that the heavy book flew from Ivy's lap as the young Spark tumbled backwards into the desk. Petris, who had managed to break down the globe into two large bowls and a copper stand, immediately abandoned its work to join her as she rubbed her head, frowning.
"Ow!" she grumbled, too shocked to be truly angry. "What's wrong with this stupid thing, we got the engine running, why -- "
She was cut off by a horrendous screeching that soon forced her to put her hands -- or rather, her hand -- to her ears. It was the unmistakable noise of metal tearing metal and it served only to frustrate Ivy further. Hauling herself to her feet, she glared at Jötz accusingly, shouting over the ruckus to be heard.
"What is that?" she demanded. "I was reading that book, and now -- "
Ivy stopped. The screeching had stopped, and everything had fallen quiet. Very quiet.
The Spark made a face, now less angry and more curious. "Hey...why'd the engines stop?"
Her question was answered by an unmistakable, if vaguely mechanic, roar.
Ivy brightened abruptly. "Hey, are there s'posed to be clanks down here?"
Thanks, Kuro!
And apologies, all, for the double post.
And apologies, all, for the double post.
Maya
She circled the bridge until her aching head and churning stomach told her it was time to return to her room. She'd been given leave to take the next day off, but she had no intentions of doing so. Somewhere back on earth, her grandmother was turning in her grave at the mere thought. Maya Coleman hadn't been raised to take breaks, necessary or otherwise.
In time, a pilot through and through, she found her way down to the hangar. The mining pods were smaller than the Copernicus but undoubtedly no less important. In fact, given their would be bounty, Maya was almost inclined to make rounds of the pods herself in her time before her shift started proper. But before she could go anywhere, an unfamiliar voice stopped her.
"How's it cutting' der, b'y? Whattya at? Or is no one home, a'tall?"
Maya stopped short at the...pronouncement...of a sort. Granted, it could have also been a call to action, or a curse, or the lyrics to some pop song. The man speaking -- she was almost certain it was a man -- had an accent even thicker than her own, and twice as indecipherable by her count. She wasn't typically one much for speaking out of turn or at all...but if this mystery person was calling for help, she couldn't very well walk away.
She followed the echoes bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and caught up to a young man with a large barrel of...something under his arm, apparently calling out to no one in particular. Maya watched him for a moment. He didn't appear to be in any danger...but she was still admittedly curious about just what had been said.
"If you're looking for your quarters," she said, her accent making the word 'quarters' almost rhyme with 'squatters', "you're in the wrong wing. This is the hangar for the mining pods."
--
Park
The girl's name was Pauline, and the terrors of the night had left her with a poignant gift.
Whether or not she saw it that was, Park wasn't sure. But she had decided to keep the child, and she was awake now.
There had been other details in her file -- her father's name, for example, and the girl's predilection for numbers and metrics. More than enough information on just what had happened to her, and who she had been before the happening. Park read it all, impassive, the noise of a small, manmade waterfall at the corner of his desk his only reminder that time was passing at all. When he was finished, he shut the file and set it on his knees, then reconsidered and put it away in his desk.
Technically, Dr. Park was just one of a handful of doctors assigned to the Third Shift. It was no different than working at any medical facility back on earth. Like Dr. Brock was consigned to address neurological concerns, Dr. Park was open for psychiatric 'emergencies'. Suicide attempts and the like. His predecessor, one Dr. Wendy Carter, had been a general practitioner with a degree in psychology. To his understanding, he was to be used mainly for his psychiatric skills. Fate or providence, perhaps, all things considered.
In any case, he was neither morally nor professionally obligated to reach out to Ms. Weber, though he had been given her file as a strong nod from the powers that be, her father undoubtedly included. Still, he knew from experience that a good number of his patients preferred to come to him, and that several more who might benefit from his services might never approach him at all if left to their own devices. He had at least preliminary information on most of those awake for the Third Shift and strongly suspected it would be case here with at least a handful.
For now, though, there were only two names on his list. To Pauline, he gave a gentle nudge, more of an introduction than anything else. A polite reminder that he was there and willing, happily so, to talk.
He pulled out his tablet, and after squinting, perplexed, at the screen for several long moments, sent off a short message to the former college student.
Hello, Pauline. My name is Doctor Park, or Pastor Park, depending on who you ask. I generally just go by Park. Do you like tea, Ms. Weber? If you'd like to grab a cup with me, my office is nearish the gardens. I hear you're quite familiar with those. Perhaps a tour sometime? I hope you're doing well. All the best, Park.
The second message went out to a young man named Henry Graham. His file was not nearly so detailed as Ms. Weber's, but it did not need to be.
Good evening, Mr. Graham. Or good morning, as luck may have it. My name is Dr. Park. How are you, Henry?
She circled the bridge until her aching head and churning stomach told her it was time to return to her room. She'd been given leave to take the next day off, but she had no intentions of doing so. Somewhere back on earth, her grandmother was turning in her grave at the mere thought. Maya Coleman hadn't been raised to take breaks, necessary or otherwise.
In time, a pilot through and through, she found her way down to the hangar. The mining pods were smaller than the Copernicus but undoubtedly no less important. In fact, given their would be bounty, Maya was almost inclined to make rounds of the pods herself in her time before her shift started proper. But before she could go anywhere, an unfamiliar voice stopped her.
"How's it cutting' der, b'y? Whattya at? Or is no one home, a'tall?"
Maya stopped short at the...pronouncement...of a sort. Granted, it could have also been a call to action, or a curse, or the lyrics to some pop song. The man speaking -- she was almost certain it was a man -- had an accent even thicker than her own, and twice as indecipherable by her count. She wasn't typically one much for speaking out of turn or at all...but if this mystery person was calling for help, she couldn't very well walk away.
She followed the echoes bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and caught up to a young man with a large barrel of...something under his arm, apparently calling out to no one in particular. Maya watched him for a moment. He didn't appear to be in any danger...but she was still admittedly curious about just what had been said.
"If you're looking for your quarters," she said, her accent making the word 'quarters' almost rhyme with 'squatters', "you're in the wrong wing. This is the hangar for the mining pods."
--
Park
The girl's name was Pauline, and the terrors of the night had left her with a poignant gift.
Whether or not she saw it that was, Park wasn't sure. But she had decided to keep the child, and she was awake now.
There had been other details in her file -- her father's name, for example, and the girl's predilection for numbers and metrics. More than enough information on just what had happened to her, and who she had been before the happening. Park read it all, impassive, the noise of a small, manmade waterfall at the corner of his desk his only reminder that time was passing at all. When he was finished, he shut the file and set it on his knees, then reconsidered and put it away in his desk.
Technically, Dr. Park was just one of a handful of doctors assigned to the Third Shift. It was no different than working at any medical facility back on earth. Like Dr. Brock was consigned to address neurological concerns, Dr. Park was open for psychiatric 'emergencies'. Suicide attempts and the like. His predecessor, one Dr. Wendy Carter, had been a general practitioner with a degree in psychology. To his understanding, he was to be used mainly for his psychiatric skills. Fate or providence, perhaps, all things considered.
In any case, he was neither morally nor professionally obligated to reach out to Ms. Weber, though he had been given her file as a strong nod from the powers that be, her father undoubtedly included. Still, he knew from experience that a good number of his patients preferred to come to him, and that several more who might benefit from his services might never approach him at all if left to their own devices. He had at least preliminary information on most of those awake for the Third Shift and strongly suspected it would be case here with at least a handful.
For now, though, there were only two names on his list. To Pauline, he gave a gentle nudge, more of an introduction than anything else. A polite reminder that he was there and willing, happily so, to talk.
He pulled out his tablet, and after squinting, perplexed, at the screen for several long moments, sent off a short message to the former college student.
Hello, Pauline. My name is Doctor Park, or Pastor Park, depending on who you ask. I generally just go by Park. Do you like tea, Ms. Weber? If you'd like to grab a cup with me, my office is nearish the gardens. I hear you're quite familiar with those. Perhaps a tour sometime? I hope you're doing well. All the best, Park.
The second message went out to a young man named Henry Graham. His file was not nearly so detailed as Ms. Weber's, but it did not need to be.
Good evening, Mr. Graham. Or good morning, as luck may have it. My name is Dr. Park. How are you, Henry?
(Collab: Igraine + DotCom)
Deli didn't know how she found Gavin's office. She never knew how she found anything, really, but she always did. When her mind wandered, her feet took control, which was all for the best, since they, at least, were usually right.
It gave her the time she needed to smile again.
Reassured by her own pluck, her father's heavy marble chess set clutched under one arm, Deli turned the corner at a pace far faster than she needed, and walked straight into First Sergeant Abigail Larson.
She felt her belly tighten as her heart seemed to drop straight to the bottom of a dark, icy river in her mind's eye. Her face, however, only brightened, and after tottering back on her heels and quickly balancing the chess set on a hip, she grinned up at Abby, never one to be undone by her somewhat diminutive stature.
"Hi!" she said brightly. "Sorry."
There was a beat, and then, "You're Sergeant," she added knowingly. Deli tilted her head to one side, almost inquisitive, peeking back through the door through which Abby had just come, then back to Abby herself. "You were visiting Dr. Brock?"
"Oh!" Abby pulled up short as the littler woman all but walked right over her, taking a quick step backward to steady herself, if she needed to catch the perky, ebony-haired lady. But she warmed quickly enough when she saw the wide sweet grin, and heard the tiniest heartbeat of an apology. In truth, Abby had been every bit as distracted as Delilah Beltran was, only just whirled around from a last wave good-bye for Gavin as he hung out the hallway, reassuring herself she truly was wearing her best ACU's for briefing Third Shift today anyway.
"'Sergeant,' is it?" she asked with a laugh, shaking her head slowly, one eyebrow cocked curiously as she watched the strangely vibrant little woman with a small, eminently amused grin. "Well I am a sergeant here on the Copernicus, and you can call me Abby - it might save confusion among the rest of the non-commissioned officers aboard. Soldiers can be rather short on the uptake, easily confused - just speak slowly, give us some time to work things out, and eventually we usually catch on... " She winked at Deli slyly, before her gaze traveled to the chess board set hiked under her arm.
"And you are Delilah Beltran," Abby said softly, her ice blue eyes returning to the young woman's pretty face. Of course Abby knew exactly who she was, recognized her now for the young woman with the unfortunate choice of vomit receptacles in the briefing - and of course, one of the handpicked contingent forced to switch shifts involuntarily. "Yes, of course I was visiting Dr. Brock. He is a dear friend, trustworthy and genuine and, I have to admit, the maker of coffee like you will never experience again in your lifetime. If you haven't had the chance to taste for yourself? Oh, you've been deprived for far too long - and you can tell him Abby said so. He's good people."
Abby's gentle smile remained as she nodded meaningfully toward the chess game. "Though I bet you've already figured that for yourself. I've got to know, have you beaten a Nobel Prize nominee to date? An impressive feat, that."
Deli beamed at the taller woman, honestly baffled at the genuine kindness apparent in both her voice and smile, though of course she wouldn't let that show on her own face.
"Well, only when you say it like that," Deli said, scrunching her nose in mild distaste. "I like Dr. Brock 'cause he doesn't let me win."
It was true enough, though both their previous matches had been close ones. He'd been among the first people she'd met after her father had moved his family to the Mountain and one of only a small handful to know her brother Diego. She'd suggested a game of chess on a whim -- as she did most things -- after their third or fourth session together when she'd decided she needed something more than decades-old magazines to distract her from the fact that she was in a doctor's office, even if it was a doctor she'd liked.
"He's better at making his moves," Deli continued idly, as though she and Abby were old friends, which was generally how she viewed people she didn't immediately object to. "But I have better foresight. Doctors and soldiers always spend too much time in detail." Then, remembering who she was talking to, a sheepish grin and said, "Oh. No offense. I bet you're still really smart to be in charge of the whole ship. And you're not just a Sergeant. You're First Sergeant. I know it's just a ranking, but it's a good one."
Deli beamed and stuck out the hand that wasn't clutching the chess set under her arm. "Anyway. Abby. I'm Deli. But you already knew that. And..." she paused, trailed off, green eyes drifting to Dr. Brock's office door, then back to Abby's face. "And if you're here, I'm probably not allowed to ask about what, huh?" she added sagely, before nodding to herself. "That's okay. It's probably better that none of us know exactly what happened to those people."
It was rare Deli let people know what she was really thinking, but the First Sergeant had been so disarmingly genuine...and Deli figured it wouldn't take her, or Reece, too long to put two and two together.
"Thank you," Deli said abruptly, surprising even herself, then decided she didn't care. "For waking me up. I know you're going to say it wasn't you, or that I shouldn't be thanking you, but I'm going to anyway, okay? I'm glad I could be here, even just for a little bit. I heard some of the others say they didn't think there was very much to look at outside, but I think it's kinda like seeing into forever, y'know? I like it." Deli glanced wistfully over her shoulder for just a moment before turning back to Abby with that dauntless grin once more.
"Anyway, it was nice to meet you." Deli rocked back on her heels and tilted her head to the side with a curious frown. "I'm glad you're in charge. You're really pretty. Also, did you say Dr. Brock has coffee?"
Abby laughed softly all over again, not truly getting a chance to get a single word in edgewise as Deli's quick mind moved along at a clip she knew she'd never match. She did, however, manage to take the young woman's offered hand in her own in a warm, firm shake.
"It has been wonderful meeting you Deli," Abby replied sincerely as she let the younger woman's hand free - though Abby suspected that not much of anything could keep this lively sparrow of a woman still for long anyway. "And thank you as well." For many things truly: for the sweetly simple compliment; for her tacit 'approval' of Abby's position aboard the Copernicus; and even for Deli's gentle forgiveness of the Shift switch she never volunteered for, and yet remaining doggedly determined to see the chance for eternity in her circumstances nonetheless.
But Deli did not strike her as the fluffy-feelings-let's-share type, and so Abby kept those thoughts to herself though the sentiments shone in her smile nonetheless. "Though I should probably mention, General Lahan might be a touch miffed to discover his Head of Security has suddenly taken over his whole spaceship. You know how some men can get when you take away their toys, pouting and moping for days on end - such a sad, sad sight really. I just couldn't do that to him. Oh! And between you, me, and these walls all around us?"
Abby leaned forward just a little, her lips to the smaller woman's ear as she whispered conspiratorially. "I probably shouldn't have spoken so loudly before, but yes. That coffee. It's the elixir of the gods if you're into that kind of thing. But let's be wicked, and keep Dr. Brock's secret all to ourselves - conservation of scarce resources and all of that. I won't tell if you won't!" Abby grinned widely to the sprightly younger woman as she stood to her full height, laying a warm, reassuring hand on Deli's shoulder in farewell before turning to make her way back down the hallway.
But she only made it a few steps before turning around on her heel with a laugh. "Oh, and Deli? Just so you know, you can ask all the questions you like, any time. But whether I'll answer or not? Well, that's a whole other matter there I'm afraid... " Abby winked impishly, and returned to her trek through the Copernicus' byways.
Deli, considerably brightened at the notion of sharing a secret, even a tongue-in-cheek secret, with basically the captain of the whole ship, watched First Sergeant Abigail Larson, Abby, disappear into the bowels of the ship with a smile on her face. A genuine smile, too, not the charming, but meaningless one she'd wore as of late. She liked Abby, and that scared her. She tended to hurt the people she liked.
Shaking herself, the young demolitionist exhaled forcefully, blowing a tuft of ringlets from her eyes with a breath of air, and on inhaling, finally caught scent of Dr. Brock's coffee. The shiver that had been starting to work its way down her spine disappeared, and she turned toward his office door with an almost earnest spring in her step.
She didn't knock before she entered. As per usual.
"Hi, Dr. Brock," she said, green eyes scanning the room for the source of that yet-unseen decadence. "I smell coffee. Can I have some?"
Deli didn't know how she found Gavin's office. She never knew how she found anything, really, but she always did. When her mind wandered, her feet took control, which was all for the best, since they, at least, were usually right.
It gave her the time she needed to smile again.
Reassured by her own pluck, her father's heavy marble chess set clutched under one arm, Deli turned the corner at a pace far faster than she needed, and walked straight into First Sergeant Abigail Larson.
She felt her belly tighten as her heart seemed to drop straight to the bottom of a dark, icy river in her mind's eye. Her face, however, only brightened, and after tottering back on her heels and quickly balancing the chess set on a hip, she grinned up at Abby, never one to be undone by her somewhat diminutive stature.
"Hi!" she said brightly. "Sorry."
There was a beat, and then, "You're Sergeant," she added knowingly. Deli tilted her head to one side, almost inquisitive, peeking back through the door through which Abby had just come, then back to Abby herself. "You were visiting Dr. Brock?"
"Oh!" Abby pulled up short as the littler woman all but walked right over her, taking a quick step backward to steady herself, if she needed to catch the perky, ebony-haired lady. But she warmed quickly enough when she saw the wide sweet grin, and heard the tiniest heartbeat of an apology. In truth, Abby had been every bit as distracted as Delilah Beltran was, only just whirled around from a last wave good-bye for Gavin as he hung out the hallway, reassuring herself she truly was wearing her best ACU's for briefing Third Shift today anyway.
"'Sergeant,' is it?" she asked with a laugh, shaking her head slowly, one eyebrow cocked curiously as she watched the strangely vibrant little woman with a small, eminently amused grin. "Well I am a sergeant here on the Copernicus, and you can call me Abby - it might save confusion among the rest of the non-commissioned officers aboard. Soldiers can be rather short on the uptake, easily confused - just speak slowly, give us some time to work things out, and eventually we usually catch on... " She winked at Deli slyly, before her gaze traveled to the chess board set hiked under her arm.
"And you are Delilah Beltran," Abby said softly, her ice blue eyes returning to the young woman's pretty face. Of course Abby knew exactly who she was, recognized her now for the young woman with the unfortunate choice of vomit receptacles in the briefing - and of course, one of the handpicked contingent forced to switch shifts involuntarily. "Yes, of course I was visiting Dr. Brock. He is a dear friend, trustworthy and genuine and, I have to admit, the maker of coffee like you will never experience again in your lifetime. If you haven't had the chance to taste for yourself? Oh, you've been deprived for far too long - and you can tell him Abby said so. He's good people."
Abby's gentle smile remained as she nodded meaningfully toward the chess game. "Though I bet you've already figured that for yourself. I've got to know, have you beaten a Nobel Prize nominee to date? An impressive feat, that."
Deli beamed at the taller woman, honestly baffled at the genuine kindness apparent in both her voice and smile, though of course she wouldn't let that show on her own face.
"Well, only when you say it like that," Deli said, scrunching her nose in mild distaste. "I like Dr. Brock 'cause he doesn't let me win."
It was true enough, though both their previous matches had been close ones. He'd been among the first people she'd met after her father had moved his family to the Mountain and one of only a small handful to know her brother Diego. She'd suggested a game of chess on a whim -- as she did most things -- after their third or fourth session together when she'd decided she needed something more than decades-old magazines to distract her from the fact that she was in a doctor's office, even if it was a doctor she'd liked.
"He's better at making his moves," Deli continued idly, as though she and Abby were old friends, which was generally how she viewed people she didn't immediately object to. "But I have better foresight. Doctors and soldiers always spend too much time in detail." Then, remembering who she was talking to, a sheepish grin and said, "Oh. No offense. I bet you're still really smart to be in charge of the whole ship. And you're not just a Sergeant. You're First Sergeant. I know it's just a ranking, but it's a good one."
Deli beamed and stuck out the hand that wasn't clutching the chess set under her arm. "Anyway. Abby. I'm Deli. But you already knew that. And..." she paused, trailed off, green eyes drifting to Dr. Brock's office door, then back to Abby's face. "And if you're here, I'm probably not allowed to ask about what, huh?" she added sagely, before nodding to herself. "That's okay. It's probably better that none of us know exactly what happened to those people."
It was rare Deli let people know what she was really thinking, but the First Sergeant had been so disarmingly genuine...and Deli figured it wouldn't take her, or Reece, too long to put two and two together.
"Thank you," Deli said abruptly, surprising even herself, then decided she didn't care. "For waking me up. I know you're going to say it wasn't you, or that I shouldn't be thanking you, but I'm going to anyway, okay? I'm glad I could be here, even just for a little bit. I heard some of the others say they didn't think there was very much to look at outside, but I think it's kinda like seeing into forever, y'know? I like it." Deli glanced wistfully over her shoulder for just a moment before turning back to Abby with that dauntless grin once more.
"Anyway, it was nice to meet you." Deli rocked back on her heels and tilted her head to the side with a curious frown. "I'm glad you're in charge. You're really pretty. Also, did you say Dr. Brock has coffee?"
Abby laughed softly all over again, not truly getting a chance to get a single word in edgewise as Deli's quick mind moved along at a clip she knew she'd never match. She did, however, manage to take the young woman's offered hand in her own in a warm, firm shake.
"It has been wonderful meeting you Deli," Abby replied sincerely as she let the younger woman's hand free - though Abby suspected that not much of anything could keep this lively sparrow of a woman still for long anyway. "And thank you as well." For many things truly: for the sweetly simple compliment; for her tacit 'approval' of Abby's position aboard the Copernicus; and even for Deli's gentle forgiveness of the Shift switch she never volunteered for, and yet remaining doggedly determined to see the chance for eternity in her circumstances nonetheless.
But Deli did not strike her as the fluffy-feelings-let's-share type, and so Abby kept those thoughts to herself though the sentiments shone in her smile nonetheless. "Though I should probably mention, General Lahan might be a touch miffed to discover his Head of Security has suddenly taken over his whole spaceship. You know how some men can get when you take away their toys, pouting and moping for days on end - such a sad, sad sight really. I just couldn't do that to him. Oh! And between you, me, and these walls all around us?"
Abby leaned forward just a little, her lips to the smaller woman's ear as she whispered conspiratorially. "I probably shouldn't have spoken so loudly before, but yes. That coffee. It's the elixir of the gods if you're into that kind of thing. But let's be wicked, and keep Dr. Brock's secret all to ourselves - conservation of scarce resources and all of that. I won't tell if you won't!" Abby grinned widely to the sprightly younger woman as she stood to her full height, laying a warm, reassuring hand on Deli's shoulder in farewell before turning to make her way back down the hallway.
But she only made it a few steps before turning around on her heel with a laugh. "Oh, and Deli? Just so you know, you can ask all the questions you like, any time. But whether I'll answer or not? Well, that's a whole other matter there I'm afraid... " Abby winked impishly, and returned to her trek through the Copernicus' byways.
Deli, considerably brightened at the notion of sharing a secret, even a tongue-in-cheek secret, with basically the captain of the whole ship, watched First Sergeant Abigail Larson, Abby, disappear into the bowels of the ship with a smile on her face. A genuine smile, too, not the charming, but meaningless one she'd wore as of late. She liked Abby, and that scared her. She tended to hurt the people she liked.
Shaking herself, the young demolitionist exhaled forcefully, blowing a tuft of ringlets from her eyes with a breath of air, and on inhaling, finally caught scent of Dr. Brock's coffee. The shiver that had been starting to work its way down her spine disappeared, and she turned toward his office door with an almost earnest spring in her step.
She didn't knock before she entered. As per usual.
"Hi, Dr. Brock," she said, green eyes scanning the room for the source of that yet-unseen decadence. "I smell coffee. Can I have some?"
I would also like to see this.
Posts are in the works, both collaborative, and less collaborative (idle and Justric especially -- so sorry for the wait, guys!), but will need to be paused briefly. Airports are great for getting you from A to B, and also great at food poisoning. >___> I'll work on these and try to get them up tomorrow evening, where applicable. Hope I'm not holding anything up. I am the WORST at time management.
Wonderful stuff as per usual, all! I am home and social we out, so I'll be locking myself in my room, and, after a brief nap, catching up on everything. Sans the snow, of course. We do have...a lot of fog?
I love you people. ;-; Brilliant, Justric, as per usual. =)
Anyway. I should have mentioned this earlier...but I am on that stage of life when virtually everyone I know is getting married, here represented by THREE out-out-town (two of them out of state!) weddings this weekend, next weekend, and the following. I shall do my utmost to post on Sunday nights and week days, but Saturdays are pretty much shot through September. Something something, young love. *phew*
Anyway. I should have mentioned this earlier...but I am on that stage of life when virtually everyone I know is getting married, here represented by THREE out-out-town (two of them out of state!) weddings this weekend, next weekend, and the following. I shall do my utmost to post on Sunday nights and week days, but Saturdays are pretty much shot through September. Something something, young love. *phew*
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