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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

[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.