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

[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.