001 ☼ video

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[ 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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[antifroze.livejournal.com]

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. ]