ataraxion | voice

[...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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He laughs, at that--just a little grim.]

We're starting a club? I don't know that I want to be known as a poor bastard, seems a bit insulting. Come up with a better name and I'll be there.

You'll have heard about alternate universes, yeah?

Got any ideas?

[ Don't complain if you're not gonna contribute, man. ]

Yeah, I have. Don't really understand it yet, but one headache at a time.

Yeah, I'm not really into the marketing and PR side of things? But I'm happy to downvote poor choices of names.

[because complaining without contributing is Mitchell's way of life thnx]

If your New York is even the same as the New York on my Earth, which is why I'm asking about the alternate universes.

And I work at a bar. [ He pauses. ] Well, that's not important right now. We can put it off for a later vote.

[ Keeping up the glib humor's wearing on him. It used to be easy before, ignoring whatever problems that cluttered his life. Now... there wasn't anyone to talk to, not really. And it was always easier talking to strangers this way: joking, pretending nothing's wrong.

Maybe Mitchell would understand -- how else do you cover up a train car massacre, other than to keep it buried under a facade? ]

I figured that was what you were getting at.

[Yeah, maintaining a facade and keeping up good humor in the face of a lot of horrible shit, most of which is your fault: the other thing Mitchell is really good at.]

Yeah. It's mad. [A beat; he considers this before he asks:] Anyone from your New York here with you?

I haven't seen anyone, not anyone I know, anyway.

[ There's only a few people he'd want to see. With his luck, the rest would probably be trying to kill him. ]

How about you?

Yeah, a few.

[He says it vaguely. No one he wants to see, anyways, and very few that he actually knows.]

Just wondering how common that was-- bein' alone or bein' among people from your... world. Or whatever you want t' call it. But a pattern would be too easy.

The pattern I see is the fact that half of us come from earth. Besides that... no idea.

[ Being clueless seems to be a typical thing with him.

He pauses. ]

I never got your name.

Oh, uh. Mitchell. Also with no idea. Maybe it's a pattern of ignorance.