[ TEXT ] in which cambridge suffers more disorientation than previously expected

[sexting]

[ welcome back to reality, gentle crewmembers. Here's Cambridge, fighting off her disorientation as she attempts her usual brain-text-interfacing hideousness; except, being a little worse for wear thanks to That Blue Liquid, she's having a some trouble. ]

uhhhgfhdgfdh
grav pouch hangover s
are SSSSSSimply horrendawful

did we move?
where are we
now?










oh shoes oxford i have my shoess

Comments

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[wiretap]

No, [ she agrees simply, her eyes blinking slowly. It was Cambridge, all right. ] Not at all.

[ Aberdeen falls quiet again, pausing long enough to nudge her own lip piercing with the tip of her tongue. It feels strange, like an odd itch — the result of the grav couch trying to hurt it and the piercing itself rejecting the process. ] Are you still fucking?

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[romanticism]

[ There is a very minor change in Oxford's expression, a flicker of emotion in his eyes and the faint, momentary crease of his brow. With himself and Cambridge being the only ones here, he never really had much time to think about the fact that this is different, even though certain things remain the same. These thoughts, however, are fleeting; the self-satisfied curve to Oxford's lips that follows should really be answer enough. ]

Take a wild stab in the dark, my dear.

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[wiretap]

[ If Aberdeen notices that flicker of emotion, nothing even remotely resembles acknowledgment manifests on her face. ]

Hard to miss.

[ She means the sound of it all. If they were really in a tin can floating in space, she'd know soon enough, whether she wanted to or not. ]

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[romanticism]

I'd apologise, but we both know I don't really mean it. [ Oxford looks as though he's about to grin, but a thought stops him, and his face turns immediately thoughtful. ] On that note, actually, I'd like to ask you something, though I'd prefer not to do so over the network.

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[wiretap]

[ Without so much as a hesitation Aberdeen nods and thinks to herself, go ahead even though Oxford may or may not already be listening. She has no qualms about his powers nor his use of them, whether with her permission or not. Aberdeen's not a hypocrite and she never asks when she uses her powers either. ]

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[romanticism]

[ And there we hit our wall.

Oxford understands in that moment that Aberdeen is quite willing to let him roam through her thoughts, but the issue is that she is rather out of range for him at the moment, given the state of his telepathic abilities since his arrival on board the ship. He shakes his head in response, jaw clenching with some amount of discomfort. It's still a little strange to get used to, the limitation. ]

I'm afraid we'll have to conduct this in person.

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[wiretap]

[ What follows next is something of a rarity because what follows next is a quite obvious and clear shift in Aberdeen's expression from its usual blankness to something that is most definitely a frown. She simply stares for a long moment, that frown deepening to a definite scowl of disapproval; Oxford was an irreverent bastard a lot of the time, but he wouldn't joke about this, would he?

Eventually: ] —what?

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[romanticism]

[ For some reason, her reaction only serves to tie the slight knot in Oxford's stomach a little tighter. He grits his teeth a little harder, shooting her a meaningful look - besides the other members of the Order, only Tony knows of ability, as far as he knows, and even then it's still not something he's willing to discuss particularly openly. ]

Please, Aberdeen.

( video | ENCRYPTION 90% | HACKABLE )

[wiretap]

[ Aberdeen blinks and looks vaguely shocked, almost as if he'd reached through the device and struck her across the face with that word: please. It unsettles her, far much more than she'd like to admit, so quickly she nods, her frown evening out again to a thin, unreadable line. ]

Room 002 » 200.

( action )

[romanticism]

[ Nothing more is said via the communicator on Oxford's end. He checks his general appearance, as per his habits, and though he hardly feels fit for direct human interaction, he reasons that this is an important conversation that needs to be had, and he needs to put vanity aside at least for a moment. It doesn't take him too long to locate Aberdeen's room, though he stops outside of her room without knocking or making any obvious move to make himself known to her.

Here, he can feel her consciousness, and he touches upon it gently. As I'm rather sure you may have noticed, he begins, something is a little wrong, to put it lightly. ]

( action )

[wiretap]

[ She's head down, typing away on her laptop, recording the things that she hears as she watches her communicator scroll some of the latest search results to her on-going queries for information. The sound here is sparse in comparison to the world back home, and so perhaps she can appreciate the stray thought that suddenly crosses her mind, occurring to her in Oxford's tone of voice — an errant line of thinking, not native to her own brain, but one that she doesn't fight in the slightest.

Glancing up at the door and then back down at her monitor, she raises her voice just loud enough to call: ] It's unlocked.

[ (How bad?) He's been here longer; his contexts will be much more accurate than hers. ]

( action )

[romanticism]

[ He enters after another pause. It isn't as though he wasn't already reassured that Aberdeen was really here, that other members of the Order were actually, physically present, but to see her in the flesh soothes him a little. Hell, he'd almost go as far to say that even seeing Durham would placate him somewhat, if only for the added factor that he was something from home. Cambridge isn't home. She is another world, a different world, someone different but the same, filling a void and yet still lacking in something. ]

Considering that I had to seek you out in order to communicate with you, I think that should indicate it's rather bad. [ He wanders closer, in slow and measured steps. ] My range is now comparatively feeble, and God knows what else might be going on. I haven't had any particular reasons to execute a sudden headache upon anyone, nor have I attempted to trip anyone over their own feet.

[ Part of Oxford simply doesn't want to see what'd happen if he did, if anything at all. ]

( action )

[wiretap]

[ She listens (she always listens), but when he reaches the phrase what else might be going on, Aberdeen abruptly stops typing (a rarity). Unceremoniously her laptop is shut and set to one side before she's sliding off the bed and onto her bare feet, still very much clothed in her leather jacket and nothing else though this last point of notice doesn't seem to bother her one bit. Without her usual black boots to give her a few inches, she appears to Oxford much smaller than perhaps he remembers her as. There's also much more skin exposed than normal, so tattoos that otherwise would have remained anonymous and hidden reveal themselves now on her abdomen and beneath her breast and the inside of her arm — all mathematically.

Stepping forward, she moves to meet Oxford in his approach, coming to stand just a foot or so away from him, threatening to bow forward into his personal space. ]

Try now, [ she says and it's offer. If Oxford didn't know to what extend his powers had been dampened, they would all be working at a gross disadvantage until the new limitations were defined and tested. ]

( action )

[romanticism]

[ Personal space? Hardly a concept that Oxford himself understands at the best of times, so Aberdeen's movements do very little to bother him, though he raises a brow at her with a faint amount of uncertainty touching his features. He does not pay overt attention to the fact that Aberdeen is wearing rather little in terms of clothing, though it's not something that escapes his notice. Digging his hands into the pockets of his jacket (worn now more for comfort rather than style, a much appreciated piece of home that tells him much more about himself than he previously cared to notice), he simply watches Aberdeen for a long, searching moment.

I'd prefer not to attempt the headache, my dear, lest it actually works, he says, a little frown furrowing his brow, but let's see what else I can manage.

He stares squarely at Aberdeen, not leaving her eyes, though his mind wanders to the regions of Aberdeen's mind that control her movement; all he wants to do is to make her briefly raise her arm, something that under normal circumstances would just seem like an ungainly little flap. In this case, however, Aberdeen is unlikely to experience anything but a little twinge in her muscle, not uncomfortable or painful, just a little odd. ]