ataraxion | 001 ☼ video

[ The video feed clicks on to reveal Robert Capa — a man in his mid-thirties with shaggy hair (still damp from the tube where he awoke) and a five o'clock shadow and narrow shoulders covered by the ship's uniform he found in the locker marked with his identifying number. His eyes, bright blue, are particularly striking in that they are wholly calm, despite the latest series of events. The rest of his face is calm as well, the muscles of which never really rearrange themselves much to convey this emotion or that. When he speaks his voice is measured and even, though there is a certain start-stop to the cadence.

His words are prefaced with an inhale. It seems to steady him. ]

I guess I should start with the obvious question. We can figure out where to go from there, depending how the answers trend. [ Capa rubs his chin; the scrape of his stubble is audible. ] Is anyone here part of the ship's natural crew?

[ He pauses, letting that inquiry and whatever implications it may carry set in. There's a vague flicker of emotion, maybe worry, in the set of his mouth but it's as understated as the rest of him. ] And maybe, more importantly: can anyone recall how they got here?

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[ Capa shuts his eyes, squeezing his lids down so tight that he sees stars for a moment. They're actually pretty complicated compared to the basic optic fireworks that happen when people normally do this and, to credit Capa's dedication to these sorts of things, those dissolving lights are scientifically accurate to the way nebulas appear to plume at a distance in space.

He doesn't want to lose his temper, mostly because he doesn't have one, but Mace has a habit of talking to him like his simple when he's not. (And that's not just ego talking, that's the truth; statistically, debate on the subject isn't even possible.) Capa's gone through the scenarios; he understands what's possible and what isn't. Given the number of hidden variables there are, the number of outcomes is huge. ]

It's not my area of expertise, Mace. You know that. Your guess is as good as mine until we do some legwork.

Then let's do some. [ Another immediate response. He's not giving anyone room to breathe, here—not that Capa needs any, with a mind like his. He can keep his non-existent temper. Mace isn't so picky with putting his on a leash.

Still, he reigns back a little. Checks himself. He wants to know every inch of this place; how it works, what the technology is like, what makes the machinery tick—but he can't do that if he's not thinking straight, and though his head isn't as fuzzy as it was a few minutes ago, it's not in prime condition. He presses at his forehead again—dry, now—brows drawing together. There's an irritated pause, and then the feed cuts briefly. ]

[ And he's back. ]

Cory wants us to meet up. Where are you?

[ Mace, he literally has no idea how to deal with you. Granted, Mace doesn't know how to deal with Capa either, but observationally collected data trends towards Mace not knowing how to deal with anybody — which is cold comfort to say the least.

He rubs at his eyes with the tips of his fingers. ]

Take the lift. It'll bring you to the passenger quarters. I'll meet you where you're let off.

[ A pause and Capa seems like he's about to say something else, but thinks better of it. ]

Capa out.

[ The feed ends. ]

Edited 2011-12-08 09:42 (UTC)

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