ataraxion | 01 ✪ video

[ The feed clicks on to show a man with blond hair and sharp blue eyes, expression calm - maybe even a bit unimpressed. When he speaks there's a similar nonchalance, emphasized by the slight southern drawl. He's wearing something that looks a lot like a bullet proof vest, and there's a gold badge prominently displayed on the chest. ]

Greetings, good people of the Tranquility. [ An edge of sarcasm, mocking the formality. ] My name is William Johns, and I've got a bit of a problem - I was transporting a dangerous criminal when things went a little haywire. Needless to say, this was not my intended destination.

[ There's a pause to consider the unresponsive screen and the futility of acting like there's anything familiar to be found here, but he goes ahead anyway. It's clear by his tone that he's going through the motions, isn't expecting anything useful to come out of it. ]

If the name Richard B. Riddick rings a bell, it's in your best interests to let me know.

[ And, with that out of the way: ]

Failing that, let me know if you've heard of the Tangiers or Helion systems. I'd also suggest having an engineer look at your cryo-chambers, see if they can't swap them out for models that don't make such a damn mess. [ That's a joke. Mostly. ]

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[ For a moment, it feels like her heart stops.

He's not supposed to be here. He's supposed to be dead. (Of course, so is she, and yet here she sits.) He's wearing that fucking badge, doesn't look half as crazed as he'd seemed out in the dark -- but then, he's had some time to collect himself.

She swallows, staring at the comm in her hands before stepping into a shuttle, closing the door behind her. Staying in the back seems best; her hands rub against the legs of her jumpsuit, Hunter-Gratzner blue thanks to the jump. ]

[ When she turns the video on, she's composed herself as much as she can, though her eyes are still a bit wide. ]

Johns.

[ WELL. ]

I'd know more of you, before I answered such questions.

[ YOU MEAN THAT GUY WHO LURKS ON THE CEILING... ]

Our best interests?

Richard.

[ text really doesn't capture his glee ]

[oh boy johns............]

what, are you his parole officer?
because he hasn't been a problem so far

[ Well, shit.

He wasn't expecting a familiar face; definitely not hers. There might be a slight flicker of surprise, but it's brief and controlled. Last thing he remembers is her hand on scar tissue, the brief spat, the trek back to the ship. Which means she knows he's not quite who he claims to be, and that's a problem.

But this is the guy who took crash-landing on a planet in the middle of nowhere in stride - he can handle someone crashing his party.

There's also the morphine; that probably helps with the unnatural calm. ]

Carolyn. Fancy meeting you here.

[WELL. this is a whole lot of something, isn't it.

Kirk focuses on something more concrete and will let the others fight out Riddick's guilt or innocence.]

I'll make sure to put a word in at the next docking station we show up at.

That was a joke, by the way. I'm pretty sure those stasis chambers are as advanced as they're going to get for the time being.

[ Nice clothes, kid. Johns takes a second to eye him idly. ]

You've already got my name. Maybe you should return the favor before you tip the scale.

[ YES THAT ONE also he doesn't like text, it's not particularly informative, rude. Also did he fucking stutter? What's with these people. ]

Sorry, guess I wasn't clear.

It's in your best interests not to give a dangerous criminal free reign of your ship. You know him?

[ creeping on this post. ]

You're late.

[ She tries for a joke; tone-wise, it mostly succeeds, but shock is still coloring it. Plus, well... they're both late, in a different sense of the word. She's just not sure if Johns knows it. ]

I still have your hat.

[ Because that's much less difficult to talk about than arguing about Riddick, even if she doesn't really want to see him in person to give the damn hat back, either. ]

Is this boat full of parrots or do any of you have something useful to add.

[ Text doesn't really capture how annoyed he is at the useless feedback, thanks. ]

[ He hates text already. But thank you, actual confirmation that he's here. ]

Something like that.

What, the two of you close?

How dangerous?

[ Well, it's definitely not answering the important question, but at least it's slightly less mind-numbing than some of the replies. ]

Guess I can't argue with that. Pulling people from the back-end of the universe without them noticing qualifies as fairly advanced in my book.

[ He's still not actually thrilled about that, by the way, as evidenced by the sarcastic edge. ]

what do you think since you know him so well?

[ NO CREEPING THE CREEP MOTHERFUCKER ]

[ TOO LATE ]

We're pretty sure that might've been an accident.

[ SHOW HIM YOUR FACES you assholes ]

Dangerous enough to get shipped off to the ass end of nowhere to rot in a triple-max.

[ That probably sounds like a hamburger, actually. Just to clarify: ] A prison.

[SORRY JOHNS she just prefers text.]

We don't punish crimes perpetrated off ship.

[ He's seen her like this before, scared and unstable, so it's not hard to identify it now. Her response earns a light smile, because even if it's blatant diversion, it's entertaining - but any amicable appearance is betrayed by the fact that the friendly tone of his voice is tempered by that familiar, subtle aggression. ]

You and I both know I don't give a shit about my hat.

Is he here?

That if you said you were you'd be full of shit.

Right. I'm sure that excuse flew when you were ten and knocked over the vase, but I'm not entirely clear how it applies to interplanetary kidnapping.

Your pilot hit the wrong button?

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