ataraxion | [ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

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[ TEXT ] in which cambridge makes a polite enquiry about her location

[ Hello, fellow crewmembers. If your device wasn’t on before IT CERTAINLY IS NOW! Cambridge - still nursing the mental wound of her power being so rudely culled and currently feeling obnoxiously disorientated - technopathically shoves a text transmission your way: ]

if somebody doesn't tell me exactly where the fuck I am then I am airlocking the whole bloody ship so help me god.

[ An idle threat, don’t you worry. If she had been at full strength then she might have attempted to slip her way through the ship’s systems but as it is she can barely switch a light off, let alone override the hundreds of security precautions that would undoubtedly stand between her and an airlock. Still, the impulse behind the threat is very real: uncertainty and fear mingled with a desperation to check that she wasn’t going mad and dreaming this all... ]

unless this is some hideously unfunny prank in which case you can all go to hell. bad form, you bastards.

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[ He props his chin up in the palm of his hand, frowning and still looking incredibly woozy and slightly pained. ]

Funnily enough, my dear, I believe you aren't the only one suffering from the unfortunate predicament of not knowing where in God's name you are, so I highly doubt that essentially threatening your fellow captives in such a manner is a bright start to these proceedings.

[ ohhhhh, Oxford. Did you just suggest she was stupid? Cambridge purses her lips and fixes the video feed a narrow eyed stare. ]

We can't all be prisoners. A complex ship like this won't run itself.

A look at the majority of messages on the network might suggest otherwise. [ His head is far too sore for banter, so he settles for an entirely flat tone instead, gazing at the feed with eyes that are half closed. ] I take it you've a way with technology, perhaps?

[ c a s u a l question, not trying to imply anything at all (obviously) ]

Something like that. [ Prickly and evasive, Cambridge doesn't sound best pleased with his question: the cotton wool fuzz that seems to have enshrouded all the technology within (mental) reach is absolutely maddening. ] Enough to kick up a damn fine fuss if the right people don't start paying attention to me.

[ Prickly, evasive, and also rather easy on the eyes, in Oxford's frank opinion, though the last part was only noticed somewhat belatedly due to his bleary and uncomfortable status. He manages to force a little more life into his eyes, smiling faintly. ]

Personally, I can't imagine how such a mismatched combination of a potentially fatal threat and such a lovely complexion- [ yes complexion ] -could go ignored by whoever is in charge here, but again I must direct your attention to the fact that you are one of many. Unless the mysterious... crew, or whoever they are, are dedicated enough to respond to each of us on our own, I think a little patience might be required.

I'm not really the patient type. [ AS YOU WOULD KNOW, IN ANOTHER DIMENSION! But, hmmm, compliments. The lady is appeased. For now. Cambridge lifts her chin, eyeing the man on the other end of the feed thoughtfully. ] Is there something the matter?

I've noticed.

[ Oxford's smile is becoming a little broader, more genuine. Perhaps a little familiar, Cambridge, in the way it curves just a little more to one side? ]

Something the matter? Ah, nothing really. [ AGONY, ACTUALLY ] Just a headache, I've never particularly enjoyed enclosed spaces like these. I find the concept of being surrounded by endless space also a little unnerving, but there's nothing to be done about that.

[ a little, yes. Enough to remind her of someone in an absent way - but with no real reason to apply her Oxford to this man on the other end of the feed. ]

Just think, a ship like this has the peculiar qualities of being both an incredibly limited space on the inside and a practically infinite one on the outside. [ A little cruel, talk like this. She watches him carefully. ] Claustrophobic, are you?

[ There's a faint bit of jaw clenching as an initial response to Cambridge's pleasant remark. ]

A very comforting and soothing thought, thank you kindly for that. No doubt I shall sleep easier tonight. [ The sarcasm isn't too stressed, dry and unwilling to play along too much. ] Somewhat, yes.

[ ...That jaw clench has not gone unnoticed. It even goes so far as to give Cambridge pause for thought. ]

Oh, you poor dear. [ sympathy present in her voice: nil. ] I recommend you get terribly drunk in an attempt to forget all about your crippling phobia.

Well, I don't know about terribly drunk, but I can certainly make a start.

[ Oh hello, is that a flask of scotch he just raised? Why, yes it is! To punctuate this, he takes a healthy swig of it, though not before tipping it towards the camera in a silent toast. ]

Ah. [ Cambridge purses her lips and stares intently at the video feed as Oxford takes a swig of that darling little hipflask, instantly regretting not carrying around a flask of her own in her handbag. But suddenly she smiles thinly, reaching in to said handbag hanging from the crook of her arm, and produces a thin silver cigarette case. ]

I don't suppose you smoke at all?

I haven't for years, but at times like these I'm sorely tempted to rethink my habits. [ A brief pause, and a raised brow. ] Is that an invitation, or merely chatter to pass the time?

I was about to propose a trade, actually. [ She pauses for thought and her expression darkens. ] Once I'm quite finished threatening the integrity of the ship, that is. First things first.

Your dedication to your threats is very admirable. [ Oxford chuckles, lightly. ] A trade sounds promising, thought.

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