murder --3; video

[heltersskelter]

Hey.

[and here's your favourite blonde shit disturber, Tranquility. he's playing the part of possibly-humiliated-teenager, and he's doing it well, all while wearing a Nirvana t-shirt.]

I wanted to say I'm sorry about what I said before, about that alien or whatever. I guess that was kind of a dick move, I was just surprised, you know? But I mean we've seriously got bigger things to worry about. I didn't realize space could be so dangerous outside of crushing space jumps and goo-sickness. [give Tate something terrifying and he'll poke at the wound, Carolyn, i hope you're proud.]

Not that we shouldn't be taking screaming ships and black holes and solar flares lightly but... I was wondering if anyone would maybe- lend me a book or something. I mean the library they've got here is great but I'm a little more old fashioned. [he pulls a face, like he knows how weird that sounds.] Or some music? But not that- club stuff that those guys play in whatever you're calling that dance joint. I'm talking some serious music. Like, Smashing Pumpkins and Kurt Cobain. Trent Reznor. Shit like that.

[a beat.]

I don't really have anything to trade but I dunno, I could figure something out. [he does have a bag of weed, still, but he's not going to offer that up freely lololol]

Comments

[entrapments]

[ the bag swings on her shoulder, rubs against the fabric of her jeans and tugs her the left side of her collar down. whether she's on guard, or out of it remains to be seen, but hayley stays still. waits until the feed is cut, and waits until she has his attention. waits until his crooked greeting hits the air- before her expression tilts. a smug playfulness painting her features, fluid enough, convincing enough, that it's easy to forget it's artificial.

her fingers find the green swash of fabric, drum once over it's surface. ]

Ask and you shall receive.

[heltersskelter]

[like moth to flame his gaze flicks over her body, cataloguing what he's seeing- the back, the pull of her shirt that reveals the cut of her shoulder and her collarbone, before darting back to her face.

he straightens on his bed and leans forward without getting up, eyes wide and curious.]

What've you got?

[entrapments]

Nitroglycerine.

[ the word is deadpan, even as she closes the distance between them. this is his territory, and she might tread more carefully- if she hadn't already seen what he could do- known what sort of capabilities he wrapped up in such a neat little package. the books clunk together when the bag is cast off, tossed down for him to rifle through as she settles for digging into her pockets- fishing out her communicator.

[heltersskelter]

And you got it all the way here without blowing up? You're a piece of work.

[somehow, he wouldn't be surprised if she did have nitroglycerine in there. though why she'd bring it to him, he has no idea. her brand of fun wasn't exactly his own. though he could have some fun with explosives.

either way he turns to follow what she's doing.]

[entrapments]

Tell me something I don't know.

[ she settles somewhere between decidedly within his personal space, and somehow detached from him entirely- and the whole of hayley's attention remains on the screen. keying away, a furious clicking that hits the air as she sets up a file transfer for him- inputs his identification number. despite this, however, the smile finds it's way to her face- a little bit smug, and a little bit bemused. ]

You gonna check the bag or just stare at me all night?

[heltersskelter]

[he arches an eyebrow at her, because the angle of her body doesn't let him see what she's doing, and when prompted he finally moves. he shifts to his right and reaches for her bag (interesting, that she lets him get into it) and pulls it open to peer inside.

his eyes widen, and his gaze flicks back up to her.]

Seriously? Is this all yours?

[entrapments]

[ she answers by way of a shrug- which is as much affirmation as it is a noncommittal brush off. deliberate, and maybe, with Tate at least, expected by now. task finished, Hayley slips her communicator into the back pocket of her jeans and tips her head back, idly surveying his room. noting the lack of personality- the lack of anything that could speak to his identity, hovering out in the open.

Hayley paces, lazy and comfortable, running her fingers over the edge of the desk as Tate's own communicator lights up. message received. ]

Collected a couple books. It's not much, and they aren't real or anything, like, with pages. But you know. Beggars and choosers.