ataraxion | 001 ✘ VIDEO

[ The video post begins blurred, the camera having difficulty catching focus on anything in particular. Vague, peach-colored shadows move across the screen, accompanied by a soft mumbling sound. There are no words in particular, more like exaggerated huffing or quite possibly humming. The noises are too indistinct and mushy to resolve into something definitive.

After a few seconds of this, however, the camera pulls back and finally resolves on the upside down face of a teenage boy. His expression can only be described as comical -- nose crinkled, brow pursed, eyes squinted up with confusion as the pink tip of his tongue pokes out the side of his screwed-up mouth. He continues to make noises as he obviously fiddles with buttons -- a series of huh. huh. huh? following one after the other. Their tone varies in a way that seems to indicate that each little huh means to say something different. Irritation, then curiosity, and then oh wait like this.

Finally managing to get the picture upright, he begins tapping away at things. He now makes another face at the camera -- something halfway between a smile and looking like he has to sneeze. ]

LOOKING FOR:
1 SPACE HOODY
SIZE > L

WILLING TO TRADE FOR:
BIC LIGHTER
STRAIGHT RAZOR
WHISTLE (TWEET TWEET MOTHERFUCKERS)
CHAIN
PADLOCK
IPOD (NO CHARGE, HEADPHONES FUCKED)
NAILPOLISH (YELLOW, OODLES OF THE SHIT)

SEND HELP
OBI WAN KENOBI, ONLY HOPE
BLAH BLAH BLAH

[ Because, clearly. Mouse as priorities when lost in space. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Mouse grins, slowly, but beatifically. His lips spreading to show two rows of surprisingly tidy teeth (the dentist — one of the few people his father had let him interact with as a child); his smiley piercing winks below his bottom lip. ]

You? Officially awesome.

[ Mouse points at the camera, tapping it once. ] Totally like Zero. Only less douche. Neato.

[ Less douche is good, he guesses, but being called awesome is definitely the highlight of his day. He puffs up a little—and pauses. ]

Like Zero?

[ Mouse nods, authoritatively, though this makes his hair do an odd floppy thing on his forehead which kind of undercuts the whole 'authoritatively' bit quite a lot. ]

Friend of mine. From the Calling. [ Lifting both of his hands, Mouse wiggles his fingers at the camera. The jacket he'd held up earlier had said "The Calling" on it — emblazoned on the back in big graffiti-like letters. ] Knew machines. Computers, mostly.

Could chit-chat. Super helpful.

[ Connor nods, processing this, and his mouth twitches up again. ]

Sounds like a fun, your friend does. There seem to be a lot of us here who know about computers.

[ A beat, and then he clears his throat. ] Sorry they're not here.

Half fun, half douche. Evens out. [ Mouse waggles his head, as if to add: Kinda. Then he considers a moment and puffs up his cheeks with air, letting it out with a kind of rapsberrying ppffffft. ]

Better they're not. [ Stuck in space, being told not to go places? They'd fuck shit up and properly. The lift of Mouse's eyebrows says as much. ]

[ Another shrug. ] Guess so. [ Connor looks off to the side, considering, and then returns his attention to the video feed. He stops, and then brings a hand up in an awkward little half-wave. ]

Connor, by the way. Connor Temple.

[ Mouse is quick to do the same, his expression brightening again. He has a sweet smile, albeit a little haphazard. ]

Connor, Mouse. Mouse, Connor.

[ He grins, showing teeth again. ]

Hi, hi.

[ He returns the smile. Haphazard, meet enthusiastic. ]

Hello! Mouse. Mouse. I like it. [ Aaaaand pointedly not thinking of The Matrix. Thought train derailed. ]

Oh, right—just let me know when you're okay with parting with your shuffle. There's no rush.

[ Mouse giggles at the approval — a quiet hiccuping noise that he hides with his hand. Once the little fit is over and done with, he lifts his eyebrows and looks into the camera earnestly. ]

Connor. Question.

What's up?

[ Oh. So. Seriously. ]

Headphones.

[ Can you jimmyrig me some? SAY YES. ]

Hey? What about— [ oh. ] Yours are broken, you said?

I can take a look. It depends on the conditions of the speakers inside, but if they're fine, and the wiring's all there, shouldn't be difficult to patch it up.

What kind are they?

[ Mouse disappears as he goes about digging around and emerges again with a pair of classic white-cord ear-in iPod headphones. They don't look broken but Mouse still seems sheepish about it when he says: ]

Teeny tiny kind.

[ Connor holds his breath and lets it out—but in a considering way, not a frustrated one. He peers at the earbuds. ]

Yep, I'll need a closer look. And some tweezers. [ Belatedly, he looks down at the the red wire still in his hand. ] Probably another couple of these.

[ At least the shelling hasn't cracked and broken off! There's a good chance the wires are disconnected or worn somewhere, and they just need to be welded together. With tiny, tiny welding needles. Or tape. ]

[ Mouse's brow puckers as he concentrates very hard on what Connor is saying. He repeats certain things to himself as Connor says them. ]

Tweezers. [ Nod, nod, nod. ] Erm. Wires.

'Kay.

[ He tilts his head in a what can you do kind of way, and puts the wire back off to the side. ]

Right, um—anything else you'd like me to try and fix, or...?

[ —squint, pause. Rewind.

This is a question borne of pure good-natured curiosity, but with Connor, some things he says can come off pretty tactless; he's not sure what to make of Mouse's repetition (because as smart as Connor is, two and two don't always make it together), so he just. Asks. ]

You don't talk much, do you?

[ To be honest, the way Connor's question comes out is as soft as lambs' tails compared to the way the Calling carry on. And so, Mouse seems to take no offense — just continues to smile in a soft, goofy way before shaking his head silently, a tiny noise (again, squeak-like) issuing from the back of his throat.

Not my bag. ]

Wow, you really do live up to your name. [ He huffs out a laugh, amused at Mouse's apt reaction. Let's be fraaaaands! ] —and don't get me wrong, that is a-okay with me. Just as long as you don't mind me rambling off sometimes, I think we'll be all right.

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