[When Eridan speaks, he sounds... well, if we're being honest, he sounds angry. Who he's angry at isn't readily apparent (hint: its himself), but the anger is at least making him sound more authoritative than normal.]

Wwhat the fuck did I tell you people about gettin' to the gravv couches on time?

[okay no hold on, deep breath.]

Look, maybe you guys don't think this is as serious an issue as I do, but there havve officially been twwo people killed durin' a jump an' that's twwo people too many. Do wwe still have a communications creww? Wwho's on that, an' wwho is gonna vvolunteer to make incredibly fuckin' frequent public announcements as to wwhen a jump is about to happen? It's obvvious wwe need someone to do that, since wwe apparently keep screwwin' up wwithout them!

Be at the jump bay twwo hours early. An' you knoww wwhat? Go wwith your friends or your partners or wwhoevver you fuckin' havve aboard this ship. Implement a fuckin' buddy system here. Let's get accounted for before the fuckin' jump so this shit doesn't keep happenin'!

[...Okay, so the anger is kind of backsliding rapidly, and he doesn't mean for it to happen, but look. Two people have died during jumps - one of which made a very audible death post - and now there's apparently screaming inside the jump static, and... yeah. Eridan doesn't like any of that at all.]

An' wwhile I'm at it, on a more personal note, any'a my friends wwho wwanna check in an' tell me they're doin' just fine wwould be kind'a fuckin' appreciated right noww.

[ The video is switched on, yeah, but there's complete darkness right now on the screen. Silence too, except- the scrape of something like wood against steel floors.

Then a click. Smokers, you should know this sound. A lighter. Then there's the crackle of burning paper. An exhale.

When the voice finally comes, it's dry, more than a little taunting, and very, very Russian. ]

Looked through this. [ A tap on the side of the comm. ] Think I've got list now.

Idiots. [ Tap. ] Show-offs. [ Tap. ] Strange fuckers from past. [ Tap. ] People making PSAs. [ Tap. ] Corpses. [ Tap. ]

Thought space would be more interesting. Looks like people never change. Still can bleed. [ Completely, utterly casual. ]

[ Another soft click. He tips the comm over. There's just a glance of his right hand, with the Russian north inked to the back. Then he switches hand, smoke trailing over his fingers- but it doesn't obscure the symbol of St. Petersburg on his fourth finger or the three dots below the thumb. Or the other two symbols on his forefinger and pinkie. He lets the camera linger slowly on the tattoos before he reaches out with the St. Petersburg finger and tips the camera further up.

If there's anyone who looks less like Aragorn when he has the same face, it's this man. ]

Anyone else on this ship? [ Beat, and he smiles. With teeth. ] Not me. [ Oh yes, he knows he's showing off. ]

I--

[This is hard. Hard and shameful. Yet another time losing her mind was terrible for everyone around her.]

I hurt someone. When I woke up.

I just want to say I'm sorry. I didn't--I didn't understand what was happening. [She pauses for a breath, flushing visibly but unseen.] I'm not well. Mentally. It's a--it's a long story.

I'm Annie. Annie Cresta. And I'm very sorry. I hope you're okay, whoever you are.

[There's video of a kid coming across screen, looking bored and more than a little ticked off at what's going on, where he'd ended up. He looks... well, to be honest. He probably looks about twelve or something. But rest assured, people of the Tranquility. He's a grand total of sixteen years old.

He's just a hobbit.]

So I've been told we're in space. And this is some stupid ship that we're all stuck on for a really dumb length of time.

Anyway, I guess if there's something to actually do here, let me know.

[There's a long pause as he scratches at the back of his head with gloved hand, scratching at the end of his nose, wrinkling it up and sneezing once, still looking just as bored as ever]

... Okay, fine. I'm James, and if anyone needs any help, just let me know. I have a weapon and a history with smashing robots and fighting Asgardians.

[His expression calms just a little after that, at the mention of Asgard, and with a sigh he holds out his left hand, showing off a ripped into piece of tech, a hole in the metal and wires ripped apart.]

And if anyone thinks they can fix this, I guess I would owe you one.

[Hello, ship. Have a Scotsman. A Scotsman who is no longer covered in goo, has had plenty of time getting more familiar than he'd like with the ship's towels, and is feeling marginally better for having had a shower and getting dressed.

Anyone with an ounce of common sense would be wary of using an unknown communications device to contact an unknown group of people who may or may not be responsible for the waking-up-in-goo fiasco, but Scotty's never exactly been known for his common sense.]

I don't suppose anyone'd be interested in tellin' me what's goin' on. [Do you see this angry pout? Do you?] An' if you're no' interested in tellin' me what's goin' on, would you mind directin' me t'the nearest source of a good stiff drink? [Because demanding alcohol from your captors is sure to work, Scotty.]

Uh. Hello. Since everyone's sort of introducing themselves and we're all stuck here, I thought I should probably... also do that.

I'm Rory Williams, I'm from Earth and I'm a nurse. Was a nurse. [ Technically never was one, also I'm a security guard on the lookout for threats these days more than anything. Ha. No. Way too much to get into. ] I mean, it's a little complicated. But I'm definitely still qualified and I'm always awake, so. If anybody needed a nurse for... some reason. I'll be around.

[ Annnnnd so tempted to ask, so tempted. Ever that should I/shouldn't I dilemma, only it's not a very big one, he's asking anyway. ] Sorry, really need to clarify something. The universe isn't ending right now, right? You can't exactly fly a ship through something that doesn't exist, so I've kind of been assuming it's all clear. Just for the record. Um. Thank you.

[ Charles turns on the device and it defaults to video. He has cleaned up, found his room, and slipped on the blue sweater he found in the locker. He has taken seat near a desk, where he has piled his belongings. He appears to be thinking, as the disorientation has worn off, but it seemed to be the time to ask questions. ]

I've gathered a bit of information about this place, but more can always be useful. How secure is this?

[ His expression softens and he smiles a bit. It's weird asking questions, but he has founded that his ability is not quite up to par with what it was at home. ]

I could use a better idea of the locations of this place outside of the passenger quarters. Is there a map of this place? I have not yet had a chance to explore this ship, but I would prefer to avoid getting lost if at all possible. [ He barely skips a beat before he continues. ] And is there a library?

[ He pauses for a moment, considering his next few questions. He really needs to talk to - well, people from home. Sort out what had happened completely. And be caught up on anything that he may be missing, since he is certain there is something. That is best left for private and one-on-one conversations, and he isn't certain how secure it is yet. ]

I think I will pick up a book, if they are here; however, I would prefer to know what people do here to occupy their time. Or what it is that needs to be done.

[ He reaches up to turn off the device. ]

I'm Charles Xavier, by the way, if you need to reach me.

[ ooc: Charles is on 008-095, and I am open to action if anyone would prefer. ]

[ The message starts with the distinct click of a lighter. There's a little growl too, like a snore of a dog (which would be correct, by the by) and then a long inhale - those that are good of hearing can hear the sizzling of the cigarette paper burning. Before the words come, there's an exhale, only then does the Swedish accented voice speak: ]


This place is a-- a drag, like you say, you know? [ A click of his tongue. There's a small nostalgia there, but it's clearly smacked down by the jesting tone that covers most of his words: ] I don't do this a lot, just so you know, but if bedbug fella wants to toke a king jay, I'm offering this time only.

[ A long pause, during which there's another inhale, a dog bark, and a laugh before Axel's annoying cockiness bounces back on, full force. ]

And any of you dope police can suck on it, there are no rules in here, ha ha hAOW, fuck, no, Porky, don't bite my crotch!