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[holdensteady]

» WHO? James Holden, OTA
» WHEN? mid-late June
» WHERE? various
» WHAT? intro/catch-all post
» WARNINGS? none at this time

( A. Arrival, Deck 3 near Crew Quarters )

Waking up in the middle of a grimy hallway, in a jumpsuit similar to the one he always wears and yet different is disorientating. As he comes to, Holden doesn't feel quite right. It's with some difficulty that he pushes himself up off the ground, a low grunt of pain as the maneuver is difficult on his leg still healing from being crushed. The repeating message becomes the forefront of his focus then and he keeps one hand pressed to the wall as he searched out the sound, quickly seeing the device on the ground. He picks it up with a grimace, studying it and the logo doesn't mean a damned thing to him the same as nothing in his current surroundings do. His mind is searching for an explanation of his location. He slips the device on before using the wall as he moves down the hallway, searching for anyone to ask where the hell he is.

The last thing he remembers is being in the med bay on the Roci with Naomi and now he's certainly not on the Roci and Naomi isn't in sight either.

( B. Bar )

[ It doesn't take long to find the bar, not that it's what Holden's looking for. It's by chance but upon realizing what it is he goes in, searching for any familiar face. If he doesn't see one immediately he finds a place to sit -- not particularly interested in drinking and more concerned about finding his crew and answers. He keeps a watchful eye on those around, though, not immediately trying to talk to anyone and instead looks at the device again, trying to glean any useful information he could from it.

If nothing else, it gives him a rest from putting weight on his leg.

There is a point where he gives up on simply observing and whether someone's sitting nearby or walks by he says: ]

Hey, can I ask you a question? [ Namely, what the hell is going on? ]

( C. Wildcard )

[ Don't see what you want? Hit me with your best shot or contact me via PM or at poetanarchy! He's very likely to be found getting coffee in the mess hall or checking out the observation deck. ]

Comments

(A) fingerguns

[pampa]

Miller rounds a corner on his way back to the bar. Mess Hall - Bar - his quarters. The rounds of a man who knows he's dead but is somehow alive here anyway, and like the ghost he is he's gotten pretty good at haunting the place. "I'll buy you a gin," he says before he registers the face in front of him. It's a throwaway joke he'd waste on any sorry soul here, and honestly, he'd thought it was Kovacs, so used to looking up (and up) and seeing that guy pacing the hall. He wants a cigarette, well. The day he gets one is the day Miller spaces him. A sense of familiarity washes over him then - not Kovacs. Not any other idiot here, only a handful Miller had gotten to know anyway; but he isn't any one of them. He walks right up to Holden, like he's going to reach out, but he consciously does no such thing, staring into his eyes from a breadth away. It forces him to crane his neck a little - tall motherfuckers.

The dull ache of his chalky ribs subsides just to look at the other man, an Earther he'd placed all of his collapsible faith sturdily into. He'd hurt himself two weeks ago saving Alex from becoming space trash, but it isn't like he expected to turn left and see the face of Jim Holden staring back at him. His whole body goes numb, vibrating from the effort to keep still and convince himself it isn't another hallucination fueled by lack of sleep or just plain wishful thinking. He isn't seeing Julie now either, though he can feel the weight of her necklace in his pocket, and the presence of her picture inside his hat. His jumpsuit is a faded olive color, proclaiming him to be Reverie Terminal crew - the same as Holden. This isn't exactly how he planned to get a bunk on the same barge as him.

"I would ask if you were really here, but you look too fucked up to be a mirage, kid." And maybe he says it just to beat Jim to the punch, backing off just a little bit so he doesn't have to go cross-eyed to meet the other man's eyes. "I take it back, I'm gonna need all the gin for myself." He knocks into Holden's shoulder on the way past, though it's way to gauge if he was solid more than anything. And then he's just walking on by and through the open doorway to slide onto a barstool like it's the most natural thing in the universe. Maybe it is for a man like him. He's already pouring them both a drink by the time Holden gathers his wits about him to follow, watching the liquid travel through the low gravity and neatly catching it in each glass. It's gonna be a long fucking day.

[holdensteady]

It's the voice first, the all too familiar voice. It's a voice that haunts him sometimes when he can't sleep, which is often. There's a sense of guilt associated to Miller, that failure to save everyone even though it had really seemed that Miller didn't want to be saved. That doesn't help to know because who actually wants to die.

Holden doesn't recover quick enough before Miller speaks again and a grin threatens to pull at the corner of his lip, almost winning. He can only imagine how he looks, and the fact he's favoring to one leg.

"I wouldn't want to come between you and your gin," he says and then he follows him, the physical contact had made it clear that Miller's not a ghost -- at least not by any definition that Holden knows. The shock is starting to settle in as the fact that Miller is really there truly registers in Holden's mind.

He's frowning by the time he sits down, but he watches the drink being poured. There's more than a few questions on the tip of his tongue but he doesn't end up asking any of them and just stares at Miller as if already unsure again if he's real.

[pampa]

He picks up Holden's glass when the other man doesn't and pushes it into his hand. If this is really happening, he's not the only one getting wasted okay. Once he's confident he has a hold on the drink, Miller gently tips his against Jim's before downing it all in one go. Yep, that takes the edge off for sure. Sucking gin off his teeth, he pours another and leans back a little. His ribs are still healing from saving Alex a few weeks ago, so he'll gladly ignore Holden's injuries if the man pays him the same courtesy.

"It's no Ganymede, but it hits the spot." And then corrodes the spot tbh.

[holdensteady]

Holden's hand reflexively wraps around the glass when it's pushed into his hand and after the clink of glass against glass he knocks it back, shaking his head a bit. It seems like it's been a while since he's drank and maybe it really had been -- this place seems to play tricks with time and memories if Miller is any proof.

"Sometimes we can't be picky about our vices."

[pampa]

Miller grunts his approval for that, drinking this one slower but with no less enthusiasm despite the taste that might put it in a similar category to kerosene. "Yeah? What's your vice, kid?"

[holdensteady]

Holden really wouldn't be surprised if this drink was burning a hole through his stomach as they were speaking but it didn't stop him from continuing to drink.

"Coffee," Holden answers, though he surely has more than that -- but don't they all?

[pampa]

You get used to it, or maybe that's the hole in his stomach talking.

"After trying that stuff on the Roci, can't say I blame you." Miller shakes his head. He was never a big coffee guy, but that stuff was nice. "Ain't got nothing like that here. It's not even as good as the swallop we call coffee on Ceres."

[holdensteady]

"Seems like that's the trend here," Holden sighs and shakes his head as he takes another drink, his eyes wandering around the bar. Even this place is a downgrade.

"Guess about the only thing that might be decently the same is the people."

[pampa]

Miller grunts in acknowledgment. "Which is weird more than comforting, if you ask me." Which no one ever does (or should.) "You know we're the only ones on this station who come from a place with a colonized Belt? Mars? Get ready to have a lot of the same damn conversation over and over and over..." He spins a finger in the air, it's seriously starting to bore him okay.

[holdensteady]

"Why do you say so?" Holden asks, though he can imagine since it's Miller and all. He still doesn't mind Miller talking as much as he might have used to -- feeling responsible for someone dying only to have them come back can maybe do that to you.

"No option for a broadcast with the information?" Holden is only half serious.

[pampa]

His lip curls into a disdainful snarl, but it drops just as quickly as it arose. He shrugs.

"Knock yourself out, kid." That network is gonna eat Holden alive, but he'd never dream of stopping the inevitable. Restarting the inevitable is 100% more his thing.

[holdensteady]

"No, pessimistic 'that's been done before'?" Holden questions and he might have the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips but he's feeling the weight of all the new information and seeing Miller too much to really smile.

[pampa]

"It hasn't been, not by you. Not by James Holden." He lifts his eyebrows to drive the point home, drinking the rest of his glass so he can wag his fingers in a spooky arrangement. "You're goddamned special, remember?"

[holdensteady]

Holden shakes his head, his expression grew more serious for a moment.

"You of all people should know better than that. I'm nothing special."

[pampa]

Miller leans in a little, looking exasperated; but he's too tired for it to cut much. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve there, kid. You're gonna need it more than ever here." It's as close to friendly advice as he would get from the ex-spacecop.

[holdensteady]

"I've still got plenty of nerve, old man," Holden says with a small grin. "And I still have people to try and protect."

[pampa]

"Join the goddamn club, kid." Miller shakes his head. If Holden isn't even going to try to get up to speed, he doesn't know what he's supposed to do here. And for once, the alcohol really wasn't cutting it. He gets up, only sways a little bit, and offers Holden a two-fingered salute as he attempts to bail. "3-20. If you need something... go anywhere except 3-20." And if Holden will let him get away with it, that's exactly where he's headed for the duration of the night.