ataraxion | video; 003

Let’s keep this short and very freakin’ sweet-- [There’s nothing sweet about the expression Dean’s wearing, disorientation and confusion written plainly for all to see. He looks like he’s less than impressed with this being the second time he’s come out of a grav couch -tank of goddamn goo- feeling like he’s about to fall over his own mind with how clumsy it is.]

Again? Seriously?

Fine, I wasn’t hot on bein’ splattered across the walls like a bad imitation of Slimer but... come on.

[He shakes his head and finally rubs a palm over his face. When he looks back at the feed it’s with renewed distance back in his eyes. There are new people around. New people with the potential of bringing new items on to Tranquility:]

Anybody got beer? Come see me. I’ll make it worth your while.

[FILTERED TO THE “UNOFFICIAL” SECURITY GROUP > encryption 89%]

I’m thinkin’ maybe we should re-group. See what’s what. See if anythin’ has changed. There’s new people skulkin’ ‘round the ship.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not even in your dreams, man. Not even close.

[Riled tends to be where Dean ends up whenever he and Oxford cross paths, and with a headache that feels like he drank an entire bottle of Jack Daniels to himself? He's that much easier to piss off.]

What do you want? Unless you got a sixer with my name on it... [He isn't interested?]

I hardly see the likes of you drifting around in my dreams, to be honest.

[ He sighs, exasperated by the immediate aggression of Dean's response. ]

Does the concept of banter completely escape you? I meant nothing by it, so you can keep your "sixers" - whatever in the world they may be - to yourself.

Ever heard of comedic-freakin'-timing? Look it up. [Mostly so Oxford realizes that when Dean's come out of a grav couch? The timing will always be dangerous.]

Sixer. What, you British people don't buy beers in packs?

Dear God, suddenly I am enlightened. [ Spoken in the flattest voice imaginable. ]

I thankfully haven't touched a beer since the 1980s, and while I am sure people do buy beer in packs, I believe few feel a need to shorten the already miniscule phrase "six pack" into "sixer". [ A pause, and then sweetly: ] A simple difference in terminology, that's all.

Uh, how about no? How about... you're a snobby British asshole who thinks that because beer might not have a freakin' vintage on it from before you were born and an unaffordable price tag that somehow it makes you better than anyone who drinks it.

[Chip on his shoulder? What chip on his shoulder?]

Keep your goddamn extra letters. I'll stick with beer.

[ Oxford raises a calm brow, regarding Dean for a moment before responding. ]

I only meant to imply that I prefer cider to beer, but if you'd prefer to tell yourself that, then be my guest.

[...oh.] Whatever, man. My point still stands. [Because Dean doesn't do apologies, and he sure as hell doesn't back the hell down when he should. Though maybe he realizes he's being an ass now for no reason. He's not exactly good-mannered at the best of times but he's not cruel.]

Point is there's new people around. [This is about as genuinely civil as Dean gets, Oxford. Make the most of it.]

Some of 'em probably got somethin' new to bring to the table. [Though what table that might be he's not making clear. What he really means is that there are now more people to keep an eye on. Awesome.]

[ Oxford's expression clearly says, "Does it? Does it really?" but he declines to pursue the matter. He simply hasn't the energy or even the care to bother fighting right now, rubbing the base of his skull to try and ease the ache in his head, nodding to himself to acknowledge Dean's words before he remembers that they are speaking over voice and not video feeds. ]

Not as many as there were the first time around, I don't think, but a fair few nonetheless. [ Miraculously, given that this is a conversation with Dean of all people, Oxford smiles a genuine smile to himself. ] Perhaps now's the chance to acquaint ourselves with even more interesting and varied individuals.

Acquaint? That's what you crazy British guys are callin' it these days? [Whatever. He's not continuing this conversation with something a lot closer to the 'banter' Oxford's been talking about rather than chewing the guy out over nothing. Nope. No way in hell. That's not what this is.]

I thought I might check a few of 'em out. See if any of 'em know how they got here. Or what the last thing they remember was before they woke up in a tub full of whatever that blue crap is. [Blueprints to the rest of Dean's day too, Oxford. You're a lucky son of a bitch right now.]

You'd think by the time things got this far advance? They'd have figured out how to stop the freakin' hangover headache.

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