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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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"Yeah, of course." He slows as soon as she says it, glancing around - there's a raised bit of bulkhead offset from the wall that might work as a seat, so he gently tugs her hand and moves over to sit down on it, gesturing for her to join him.

He should have called Amos, or Naomi, or one of the others - asked them to get some food from the mess hall, and holed up with Bobbie in the shared room that they'd all commandeered. But it was too late for that, now, and he was pretty sure that calling for one of them at this point would make it sound like he didn't think she would make it there.

So he just sat, and squeezed her hand.

So she sits, hand still in his. She's not quite willing to let go yet, even though she tells herself that's ridiculous. She's a god damn marine, and here she is, unable to even make it all the way down a hallway. Bobbie trains her eyes on her mag boots, her other hand squeezing into a fist as she catches her breath.

"You don't have to babysit me indefinitely."

"It ain't babysittin'." His voice was quiet, and he didn't look over at her, instead fixing his eyes on some point on the floor ahead of him.

"You tell me that you want me to leave, Gunny, and I will. But I sure as hell don't want to be alone."

Bobbie is quiet for a moment as she considers that. Wrestles with it, really. She glances up to watch him, letting out a breath.

"I don't want you to leave."

His eyes were still somewhere else, but at her words he leaned back, pressing his back to the wall, and squeezed her hand. It was for the best. If she'd made him leave, he would have spent the whole time pacing and fretting just out of sight, anyway.

"Good. Then I ain't goin' anywhere."

She wonders if he gets, really gets, how much that means to her. He says she's crew, sure, but he seems to say it to pretty much everyone, and she doubts Holden would agree with him. This is different, though. She hasn't felt like anyone has really had her back since Ganymede, not in the way her team did. Not in the 'take a bullet for you' way.

Bobbie lets out a breath, closes her eyes and tilts her head back to rest against the wall. Get it together, Draper. There's no point in getting all emotional and sappy. She swallows, but when she responds, there's just the slightest tremble to her voice.

"Thanks."

"Don't need to thank me, Gunny." He squeezed her hand, back against the wall and gazing out across the hall with no real focus.

It really wasn't even in question, that he had her back. At least it wasn't for him. He'd known her for - what, maybe a month? - and she'd ingrained herself so fully into his life and his head and his heart that it was hard to remember when she hadn't been a part of it. He wouldn't have been able to explain why she had clicked into place so easily. Maybe made up something about how she got a head start, since she knew him even when he didn't know her. That she was Martin, that they shared a bond that no one else on the station did. All these things were true, but they also didn't matter.

She could have been from anywhere, and he still thinks he would have wanted to cement himself at her side.

He didn't know what was happening to her, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to let her go through it alone.

Amos was his brother, Naomi and Prax and Frank his crew, his family.

But he was pretty sure, somehow, that Bobbie had ended up his best god damn friend. He wasn't going to lose her, if he had a single god damn thing to say about it.

She nods, trying to work up the willpower to get up again. She's so fucking exhausted that for a moment, she's tempted to just lay her head on his shoulder and go to sleep. That's not a level of vulnerability she's ready to show around anyone else, but she knows Alex would never think less of her for it. And hey, it would give him a chance to pay her back for teasing him after he fell asleep on her a few nights ago.

But Bobbie is nothing if not stubborn as a mule, and going to sleep feels like giving up, no matter how much comfort she'd draw from it, so she forces herself to open her eyes and sit upright. She stands up, a bit unsteadily, then gives his hand a tug.

"Come on. I'm okay."

He watches her get up, trying not to look as concerned as he feels, but he doesn't argue. Instead he just nods, and stands up to join her.

"I could try an' make some of that stuffing made for Amos the other day. It almost looked like lasagna. It was layered, anyway, and red and beige. It was terrible. But it looked interestin'."

Maybe it would take her mind off of it

"Red and beige, huh?"

It sounds like he's describing red kibble, but he doesn't remember trying it, so there's no point in asking for a comparison.

"You have a way with words. I'm getting excited."

Definite sarcasm.

"Tasted like someone tried makin' soybean paste and left out anythin' that tasted like it could even approach flavour, too." He's the best salesman.

"Almost got somethin' tasting like chocolate once. Looked like it came out the wrong end of bureaucrat with IBS, but it almost tasted like chocolate."

Are you trying to make her throw up, Alex.

Maybe he is trying to get her to throw up, but all he succeeds in doing is making her smile again, her eyebrows going up incredulously.

"You're bullshitting me. I don't believe you."

He placed his hand over his heart, eyebrows raised in mock offence that she wouldn't believe him.

"Swear to god, it was at least sixty percent chocolate-tasting."

What he's trying to do is get her mind of it, and get her to smile, maybe even laugh. Maybe he's doing it for himself, too, as if getting her to relax will make him worry less about the fact that maybe she's going to die, tonight.

There was nothing they could do to fix it - better to pretend he wasn't worried about it.

They're almost to the mess hall, finally. It feels like it's taken hours.

"Sixty percent sounds too high. Make it again and let me try it."

"You got a deal."

He hadn't even realised he was still holding her hand, until they got to the mess hall and Alex was forced to remember that other people existed. His hand slipped from hers, a little self consciously, but he couldn't bring himself to remove it completely, so instead he just ended up resting his finger tips on her elbow, instead.

"Just maybe shut your eyes when you try it, or you'll never get it in your mouth."

She doesn't reach for him when he pulls away, although she can't deny she's relieved when his hand moves to her elbow, instead. It's not a reaction she wants to analyze too carefully, but she seems distracted for an instant before she answers, anyway.

"You don't have much faith in me."

But they've made it to the mess hall, so it's time to find out.

"I think you'll find I have far too much faith in you to believe your sense of self preservation is bad enough to eat somethin' like that willingly," he replied, giving a smile as he led her over to one of the tables. It wasn't quite as easy as it had been in the hall - but it was still there.

"So, other than not-chocolate, you got any requests I can't possibly hope to fulfill?"

"No. Just surprise me."

She tries to sit down normally, but she can't quite manage it. She mostly sags into a chair, jaw setting as she does. Honestly, at this point, she's hoping no one else pays any attention to her.

As she sits, the fingers on her elbow naturally trail up to her shoulder, and he pauses to give it a slight squeeze.

"Alrigh'. You just sit tight. One terrifying and yet somehow appetising meal, comin' right up."

He had the sudden and inexplicable urge to run his fingers through her hair - and absolutely did not follow up on it, instead pulling his hand away completely and heading for the food replicators.

Fuckin' idjit.

Bobbie just shoots him a little smile before he goes. Once he's not right next to her, it's a little easier for her to let her shoulders slump, and to stop trying to pretend she's feeling better than she is. If this gets much worse, she wonders if she should tell Alex she wants to be alone. The last thing she wants is for him to have to watch her die.

He doesn't take too long, but has to stop himself for continuously shooting worried looks back at her. She'll be fine, Kamal, she ain't gonna disappear just because you look away for twenty damn seconds. So he resolutely focuses on what he's doing, and then only when he's done does he return to the table with the tray.

One segment does, indeed, look like what can only really be described as a plate of diarrhea, but the rest look like protein cubes carefully cut to bite size, in some kind of sauce.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

She forces herself to straighten again when he approaches, and she's not on top of her game right now, so it ends up being more obvious than she would like. It's hard to focus on that mistake when she stares down one of the most unappetizing plates she's seen in her life. She wrinkles her nose, picking up her fork carefully.

"You said it tastes mostly like chocolate. What else does it taste like?"

Because she could make an educated guess.

"Like slightly rotten soy beans," He admitted, with a helpless smile.

"What happened to all that marine courage? A little unappetisin' food supply and it goes flyin' out the window?"

He doesn't say anything about the way her back straightens, or the obvious effort it takes. Just sets the food down in front of her, putting two forks down, and then sits opposite.

She looks deeply, utterly offended, and picks up the fork as soon as he sets it down. "Who said anything about being afraid?"

And then she takes a bite, and judging by the look on her face, it's clear she's made a terrible mistake.

He offered her a grin, wide and fond, and for a couple seconds he forgot what was happening to her, and what had happened to him. He forgot everything on the station and the entire whole shit storm they were in. Instead, just honestly amused and charmed by her stubborn indigence.

However, after a couple seconds, he picked up the other fork, and very solemnly said: "Don't worry, Gunny. I ain't lettin' you do this alone," And took a bite for himself.

Ah, yeah. Still terrible. Still sort of chocolatey, but still terrible.

Edited 2018-06-21 02:52 (UTC)