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» WHO? The Roci Crew and whoever else wants in on this mess
» WHEN? after the gravity is back
» WHERE? A few different places
» WHAT? A few different prompts as well as a catch-all for any roci crew or related logs for the month of june
» WARNINGS? these are all just terrible people what do you want from me

001: Alex, Bobbie and Amos are Judging You

The Martians and the Earther are sitting at a table in the Mess Hall, and they've started a game. That game? To rate everyone else on the ship in order of attractiveness. Want to be rated? Find the comment header below, drop a picture in of your character, and watch the comments fly. Feel free to overhear them and give them hell.

002: Closed, Alex >> Frank

Going on the morning walk-about to search for Holden was ritual, at this point, and Alex was very used to Frank coming over first thing before they headed out. So the door was already open, waiting for him. Alex was fishing through his drawers, trying to find where he'd stashed that singular glove that he'd found, to show him for a laugh. But instead his fingers found something else - a thin sheet of plastic, creased and bent a hundred thousand times, and Alex's heart nearly stopped.

He pulled it out of the drawer like it was made of plutonium, careful not to touch the edges of the drawer with it.

Christ. Oh, Christ.

003: Open, Alex >> Anyone who wants to find this wrecked man.

He goes straight to the bar.

It's not that he isn't a fairly regular fixture there, anyway, but especially right now, all he really wants is to drink until he numbs everything. So hi, have a depressed Martian with a bottle of who knows what, sitting at the bar and just staring at a picture of a woman and a child smiling lovingly at the camera. He keeps stroking his thumb over it, then looking wrecked and saying something like 'god damn it' under his breath before he pours himself another drink. One of his arms is still wrapped up in a sling against his chest.

If he recognizes you, he might look up when you get close, and sigh. "Hey, partner. Everythin' alright?" Because it's a lot easier to worry about other people, than to keep being miserable about yourself.

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He watches her, utterly baffled, then glances back to Alucard's face.

"An' she wasn't here before, you just- found her." His fingers curled around the photograph.

"Correct."

There's a pause as he observes Alex, then glances down at the photograph. "Not unlike that, I imagine," Alucard says gently. "Do you miss them?"

It normally would be hard to turn his attention away from the bat, but he's been preoccupied with the photo for a while now, so it isn't difficult to train him back onto it.

He lets out a long breath.

"... Yeah. 'Course I miss 'em." But he slumped a little. "Haven't seen 'em in person for years."

There are many questions on his mind. Alex doesn't seem a terrible man, so why hasn't he been to see his family? Was it work, or something else?

He wants to ask, but family. That is a hard discussion.

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

His fingers curl around the photograph as he looks down helplessly at it. He didn't know. He wanted to talk about it until his face was blue and he also never wanted to mention it again.

"I just hope they're okay." A little quiet. "Wherever we are and however we got here - I hope they're still out there, and I hope they're okay."

Family is difficult. Was Alucard's situation any easier with so little to go back to except for his grisly duty? To still have something like family to even fret over...

"We will do everything we can to see that you reunite with them."

That is the only comfort he can offer.

"... Yeah." It's an awkward pause before the word, and he doesn't look very comfortable. He thinks about not explaining, about letting the silence drag on, but.

He just can't.

He sighs, and clears his throat.

"They, uh - they think I'm dead. Back home. Not because I came here, but - before that. They think I went down on the Donnager. They think I died a hero."

That does sound troubling. There is a bitter part of him that feels that at least Alex should be glad to have some kind of family waiting for him, but that. That kind of thought process is unnecessary and his own trauma has nothing to do with this.

So he places his hand to Alex's shoulder.

"I think they would prefer to have you alive than a dead hero," Alucard tells him gently. "And I don't doubt there are many others who would agree with that, regardless of how they feel about me."

He does, of course, mean Alex's crew. That isn't something he can change, but he knows ultimately that Alex's friends care about him extensively. He can't begrudge them for that.

"Yeah, well. Who knows how far out we are, now. Probably for the best, if they think I'm dead." Even if Bobbie had accidentally let him peak into the future - or at least remind him of stuff he didn't remember, before. They might not think he's dead, anymore. He's not sure which is worse.

"My crew - yeah. No, I know. But it ain't the same. I fit in a hell of a lot better with them on the Roci than I ever did back on Mars." He paused, looking down into his glass. "... Not all family is blood, you know?"

That makes his fingers twitch. It is a difficult thing not to personalize it into his own perspective, but he does not understand that at all. Alex has a living family that could be overjoyed to see him, why is that not worth his attention?

Alucard frowns, and distantly mutters, "No. I don't know that."

For him, he has no one waiting at home. There is no one from his homeland alive that would be overjoyed to have him back. There are none that would appear on the station.

"Then I pray you have what you desire, Alex."

Alucard stands up abruptly, holding his tongue. He would not be cruel with his words to a friend. He could not.

He should leave.

He looked surprised, even if his reflexes were slower after having downed far too much alcohol. He was never great at hiding his reactions or his emotions, so the fact that he wasn't expecting the abrupt movement was obvious.

But when his brain caught up to what must have been happening, shame crept in on his expression instead.

Yeah, he would't want to be around him, either.

"Uh - thanks." He doesn't know what else to say, and it comes out lame. His eyes fell back to the picture in his hands, and the weight of the guilt rested even heavier.