[ when the feed begins, there's a teacup on a desk, a lump of fabric in the teacup, and a tiny arm snaking back into the fabric. for a moment, there's nothing more, but then a familiar, blue-eyed face is peeking out. the wide eyes are red-rimmed, probably because he's been curled up in the cup crying off and on since the pirates were all killed. he's a tender-hearted little thing, all right?

lute sniffles, rubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes, his other hand tightening the makeshift blanket around himself. ] I-- I guess that's how big people do things. [ he slumps down in the cup, dragging the blanket over his head to hide. ] .. I-- want to be useful. People were fighting, and people got hurt, and people died, and I couldn't do anything-- But I guess it's kind of stupid to be upset about the way you were born.

[ a long pause, then, more quietly: ] .. What if something happens like this again? We're not all going to keep yelling at one another about it, are we?

[When Desmond's voice comes over the line, he sounds.... Crazy, so it's basically a Tuesday, except maybe you ought to listen to him this time, because this sounds extremely important.]

All right, look- [Muffled, as if said to someone behind him.] Get off, I'm fine! [Back to the comm] I don't know if anyone's even considered trying to pilot the Scylla, because believe me, it sounds like a lovely idea. But don't. There's a-a dead man's switch embedded in the flight controls. If anyone touches it- [He pauses to chuckle under his breath- it sounds crazy, but also painfully exasperated] - boom.

[He hesitates for a moment, as if already anticipating the protests.]

Don't believe me- send someone from flight crew to check it out. I know what I saw- [He hisses- goddammit, he needs to keep that shit under wraps better] I just know. 

[[OOC: POSTED WITH MOD PERMISSION. Basically, as of this log, Desmond will have had one of his flashes (which are now back thanks to his adventures in the ship- thanks for that, TQ). I need a couple volunteers to tag in and be witnesses to the discovery of the dead man's switch and Desmond's subsequent freak out, but yeah, as of this post, anyone who was on the Scylla probably would have heard Desmond being Final Destination about not touching the switch.]]

[...there's a second of white noise, because-- well, this is weird. It's like online chatrooms, which Mitchell has never been keen on, to say the least. One on one communication hasn't been so bad--better, actually, considering he's been mostly holed up in his room, avoiding human/werewolf contact. But, right--necessity--]

If people are going t' go through those tubes and get onto that other ship, do their phones keep on working? These devices, I mean. Do they go that far? If they do, and if this can be heard over there, I'm making a request. Space pirates had to have cigarettes on them, yeah, and I'm in need of cigarettes. Sanctioned looting can include a bit of personal stuff, yeah-- and it's sort of a, a desperate need. Please and thanks in advance.

[Like very desperate. Like the more he talks about it, the more strained his voice goes. Vampires with nicotine addictions, it's a hard life. A pause, then, he might finish there--but instead he sucks in a breath. Right. Normal.]

Actually, there's a lot of questions on how things work around here, and not all of it is out of our control. Like--so there's a cast of, what, a hundred plus of us, and we have t' trade for things that we need, if someone else has got them. But if you don't have anything t' trade, is it just-- begging for it? Hoping for a bit of Christian charity? Every man for himself? Not that I'd be much surprised by that one, given the... [Maybe it's better not to finish that one, in light of recent events, but given his low faith in humanity, and given his own recent exploints, none this is really all that surprising. So, wry once more:] ...given the situation.

[An awkward pause.]

Anyways. Thanks again.