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[donkeyballs]

» 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.

Comments

[marineris]

That's a fine strategy—Bobbie is making a point not to think about it too hard, either. The only reason she doesn't want to pull away is because she's so tired. That's certainly it. Her lips quirk up, and she shifts slightly.

"Tell me another embarrassing story, then."

[donkeyballs]

"Well, I ain't on short supply for those," he admitted, flashing her a smile. He leaned his head back against the wall and hummed lowly, trying to pull one out from the depths of his memory.

"Alright, I got one. Even got some marines in it. So, we'd just finished Basic, and we were going to ship out the next day, when a bunch of us sailors thought it would be a good idea to challenge everyone in the bar to a drinkin' contest..."

Alex continued the story in his even drawl, the warmth having spread through every atom of him, his eyes fixed on a point across the other side of the room even as all his awareness (despite trying to ignore it) was on the weight against his shoulder.

[marineris]

His voice is soothing, and by the time he finishes, she's dozing off, half curled against him. She doesn't even respond to the end of the story, in fact, eyes closed and breathing evening out.

[donkeyballs]

He had guessed that she'd fallen asleep when she didn't laugh at one of the (in his opinion) funnier bits of the story, but he kept talking anyway, as if to stop now would break whatever spell she was under. He was nervous, though, so when he finished and fell silent, he turned his head to look down at her, no longer having to keep a smile on his lips.

She looked so small, compared to her normal self. It was honestly a little terrifying, now that he had a minute to think about it, and her breathing was so quiet and slow that a fear grew in his breast and he had to hold his free hand up just a couple inches from her face, to make sure he could still feel her breath against it. Just to check that she wasn't slipping away into whatever fucked up half death that he'd already suffered. But she kept sleeping, and she looked so peaceful, unhaunted by the voices driving for guilt, that he relaxed.

He hated seeing her this small, like she didn't even fill out her own personality, but at the same time he felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew that in a normal situation, she was the one who'd pull his ass from the fire, no matter how much he'd like to pretend they were at least even on that score. She was a marine. Unlike Amos, it really was her job to protect him - to protect the pilot. He didn't like thinking that way, preferred to fight his own battles if he could, but...

He didn't mind knowing he had a marine at his back.

And now here she was, a fraction of herself, and he wanted to protect her - wanted to save her, and he had almost nothing to do that with. There was no enemy to fight, nothing to fly or shoot. Whatever was doing this to them wasn't something he could stop. He couldn't even see it.

All he could do was be there, and tell her dumb stories, and hope that this would go away in a far less violent way than his - Illness? Incident? - had.

So he didn't move. He just watched her, and couldn't quite stop himself from reaching out and pushing a stray piece of hair from her face. Then he watched for a minute more, his chest twisting as he fought himself, urge and reason on opposite sides of the debate. Urge won out - reason being mollified by the fact that she was asleep - and he leaned in to almost barely touch his lips to her hair, and murmur: "I've got you, gunny."

A little while later, his head fell back against the wall, and he drifted off to sleep with her.