[ jax is fiddling with his comm, tosses it down on the table after a moment while reaching for the cigarette tucked behind his ear. he looks subdued, shaky, but he visibly steadies himself. anderson is watching him, shoulders straight and expression calm. ]

Listen up, we got business to talk about. Anderson and me, we noticed gunnery needs bodies. Any of you who can shoot, think about stopping by. We could use you.

[ jax breaks off, ducking his head to light his cigarette. and with that introduction out of the way, anderson chimes in: ] If you can’t, but you would be willing to learn, we can teach you.

Never too late to learn your way around a gun, right? And Anderson here, she’ll teach you some self-defense hand-to-hand shit too, if you want.

[ she nods, confirming that. ] There seems to be a shortage in all departments, but if you are at all inclined to fight in order to protect not just yourself but others as well, stop by to talk to us. [ anderson is ever the idealist. jax snorts, blows out a stream of smoke. ]

Or if you just wanna learn to shoot, but you aren’t looking to join. We got nothing against giving some lessons. [ jax spins his lighter in his fingers, stops when he nearly drops it. he glances at anderson. ] You good?

[ smoking will kill you, anderson doesn’t say, raising her eyebrows. instead, she gives a sharp nod. ] Yes. [ and reaches over to the table to turn off the comm.

gunnery out, tranquility. ]

ooc | blue font is jax teller

[ spike turns to his ~companion~ as he regretfully pulls his shirt on. it’s a beautiful tropic day in the gardens and he was intending to enjoy it, but maybe he and pete should say their hello-again’s to the community at large. ]

You know what I could really go for right about now? Jammy dodgers. Been dreaming about them all month…

That's the first thing you're gonna say? [ peter glances over, undoing the leash on izzie's collar. ] - Actually, I'm not even a little surprised that it's food you want to tell the network about.

[ sigh. ] Nothing I dreamed about had anything to do with food. Could've used a few less nightmares, but now I just want to know what's up with my dog.

[ spike shoots peter a look before immediately stooping down to greet said dog, patting her head and pretending her dad didn’t just say a really rude thing!! ] Isabelle, darling, don’t listen to him, huh? [ though upon closer inspection… she looked a little more rotund than usual, maybe. grumpier, slower. he glanced back up. ]

What has your brother been feeding her? [ he asks sharply, hands over the lab’s ears so she couldn’t hear them talk about how fat she was. that was before he picked one ear up and spoke into it for dramatic effect. ] He gave you all the jammy dodgers, didn’t he?

[ izzie groaned, and spike stood up. it was a puzzle though, to be sure. ]

I'm not even sure Nathan knows what those are, Spike. Besides, he wouldn't share them even if he did. [ he shoots the camera a look, then stares a little longer before looking back at spike, leaving izzie to her unpleasant sounds for a moment. ]

You're sure that's all you dreamed about? Anything else? [ network, tell him he wasn't the only one please. ] Or are cookies really all you've got to say for yourself?

Are you sure that's appropriate for the network, Peter... [ yeah, he's just looking to get slapped at this point. ] Alright, alright. So I had nightmares too. Sometimes the biscuits sprang to life, with little angry-faces like and chased me around the ship.

[ he's definitely getting hit the second the feed goes off. ]


(( responses will come from both spike and peter petrelli unless otherwise specified. ))

[ it's late, or maybe early, either way the lights in the room are dimmed to nearly black. stiles, lit by the device, scrubs a hand over his face, then runs it through his hair, which has grown out all over the place. he's sweaty with the heat of his room, and there are bags under his eyes. this insomnia thing is seriously getting old. how is it possible to get so much sleep and still be this tired? (probably by not having a month's worth of nightmares about being chased.) ]

Hey, uh. It's- last jump was gonna be my twelfth. Jump. Except for how I didn't wake up. Buuuut that was counting number nineteen and twenty as one, so if you count it as two then technically it was this jump.

I think.

[ he looks like he's about to try and do the math again, but then snaps out of it, focuses back on the whole, talking to the camera thing. ]

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, whatever, that's a long time to be stuck here. I'm beginning to feel like it's not so — when I first showed up everything was so cool, you know? I mean, space. Light sabers. Robots. Super powers. There are - there are freaking elves.

[ he makes a kind of i can't even gesture that is probably ridiculous if you already know just how much supernatural his life back home contained. and then he once again veers himself back on topic. ]

That wasn't actually... the point of this post was to talk about all these masks I've suddenly got now? Except not really, because they're Meg's, and she was cataloging them, and now she can't, so I guess the point is to say that— she's not around anymore. And Cassie... Cassie went home too. And Remus. Guess this ship's not big on the magic users, ahaha.

[ he gives a rough, upset chuckle, and visibly pulls himself together. talking about losing people would be easier if he wasn't hot and tired. ]

Anyway. You all probably already knew all of that, since uh, as we established, I'm a whole month out of the loop.

[ he shrugs. ]

Soooo, you know. Loop me.

( nothing about what's happened since nuala made her choice makes a great deal of sense to her. she lives, inexplicably, but there is a wound in her where once her brother was; a hollowness she can't account for, in point of fact the very opposite of what she might have imagined her afterlife to consist of. dressed in strange clothes and adrift in a place even stranger than the BPRD's headquarters, handling truly peculiar technology--

--it is all very small, in the wake of that most important detail. it is, however, a sort of smallness that permits her anything else to think on while she gathers herself enough to, perhaps, investigate its cause. her first contribution to the comms network is therefore simultaneously accidental and very much with purpose: a period of audio recording where nothing much seems to be happening, video of Nuala's hands as she turns the device over several times, of her face as she examines it. audio, again-- an exasperated sigh, a little jostle, and then a startled vocalization followed by a bit of scrambling, and then, finally--

Nuala, having at some point prior to this transmission found her way to the room she's been allocated, looks composed of nothing but determination to be composed. )

Hello.

( ...and patience. she has that, too, in great stores. this is a device for communication. someone is going to communicate with her. eventually, this will begin to make sense again. )