video.

[foolproofed]

[When the camera turns on, Marty's adjusting it before plopping down in a seat clumsily (grumbling 'fuckin' jelly legs' or something to that effect); he's got dust and oil on him, a little toil and trouble with the clean-up assistance he's been performing on the Tranquility (after pilfering a gun from the Scylla, of course). He's bone-tired and there's a bit of sweat on his brow, but in that weariness he finds temporary redirection from the shitty stuff. He's noticed, of course, people fighting plenty. People looking very tense and unhappy. The halls are even quieter, somehow. And he doesn't fuckin' like it, not one bit. Now, he's not particularly attached to this ship--duh, he's only been here a month and it's a horrible place on top of it--but like hell does he enjoy misery as company. That saying can just go shove it.

I mean, he's barely even smoking it up, lately. In fact, he's stone cold normal right now and empty-handed. They're just clasped in front of him as he leans into his knees.]

You know what I need? A break. A cigarette break, but with more words 'n shit. We've been working our asses off. Keep up the fantastic work, and all that jazz, but how about something else for a second? Juuust a second. I know we've all been stressed out, what with the pirates and the freaky-ass murdering specter captains and the--uh--ship clamped on us like a tumor. So just... Hey, I haven't--really indulged in the fact that we're all from every corner of time and space and universes and all that cool sci-fi stuff.

[He licks his lips as he considers what to say, hands motioning in front of him like he's trying to catch his own thoughts.]

You guys, we have all kinds of worlds on board! Tell me some cool shit about your world. Or about you. Whatever. Can I get some cool facts? Some jokes? Stories? Hell, it doesn't even have to be anything outside of good ol' planet Earth. Or even directed at me. No serious or traumatic stuff needed, just... stuff. Hell, if you're a connoisseur of movies or you have a thing for panda facts or you wanna tell a story about your crazy family reunions.

[He suddenly seems a little more excited, a little less tired, shifting in his seat.]

This entry is now Marty's Share Fair. I'm stuck on a funky space ship and all, so I might as well know more than the bleak stuff.

....

Just don't pull a TMI, okay? I'm sure everyone sees enough floppy nethers after each jump. We don't need to know anything about them other that the promise that you'll find a towel posthaste. Thank you in advance.

(ooc: threadjacking heavily encouraged! it'd be fun to have people find common interests or things to relate to, and I just wanted a kinda free-for-all for the S.S. Solemn Worrywarts)

Comments

[jurisimpudent]

All right. Because if you break your word regarding that, I assure you, people will know about it.

[foolproofed]

Well, yeah, sure. This is all recorded on the network, and all.

[gosh man loosen up]

So what kinda' shit do you wanna do?

[jurisimpudent]

You...suggested chess.

[foolproofed]

....

Oh, right. I did say that... I'm godawful at chess, though.

[huh]

You'll have to teach me how to up my game, Mr. Miyagi.

[yup]

[jurisimpudent]

[Er - ]

Edgeworth.

[foolproofed]

[--no

this is tragic]

No, no, Mr. Miyagi is a pop culture reference to an old Japanese man who teaches this snot-nosed kid how to excel at martial arts through super fuckin' unconventional methods. Like washing cars and catching flies with chopsticks.

It was the best movie with the best theme song--and, y'know. It teaches how to overcome any obstacles and kick ass in a dignified kinda way.

So. When you get back home? Put it on your list of things to see. For sure.

[marty is here to rescue you sugarbear]

[jurisimpudent]

[Well that...makes...so much sense. Of course, Edgeworth thinks to himself, it does sound as though it's similar to some manga tropes, though no doubt seen through a Western lens -

In any case.]

You know that pop culture is not common amongst worlds, correct?

[foolproofed]

Well, you never know 'til you check and see, right?

Mr. Miyagi teaches people not to give up, and all that mushy stuff you'd find in the 80's. We gotta have something in common between each world, I'm betting.

[jurisimpudent]

I suppose.

[He's quiet a moment, then says:]

It won't be enjoyable for you.

[foolproofed]

--huh?

[jurisimpudent]

Chess. I'm very good, and I don't throw games. No one likes being trounced with no chance of winning.

[foolproofed]

Then I'll have to just play until I get frustrated and we do something else.

Besides, how'm I gonna get any better if I don't make some kinda' effort? Someday there might be a crazy chess battle that could determine the fate of the universe, and I'd blow at it because I never learned how to play like a badass.

[jurisimpudent]

...All right, then. I'll teach you until you're at a point where it's a fair game.

[foolproofed]

Sweet. How about we take a break in a few hours, meet up and see how bad I suck at boardgames? That'll get us a little more work done, and a reason to slack off for an hour or two.

[jurisimpudent]

Don't - don't say it like that. Please do not say "slack off."

[foolproofed]

Oh, right--super Gen Y for the college guy.

For me maybe, but for you, consider it time in the day teaching Chess 101.

[sniff.]

Chess enlightenment, even.

[jurisimpudent]

Better. Acceptable.

[foolproofed]

Good!

[smiiiile]

See you in two? First floor kitchens?

[jurisimpudent]

Erm - Yes. That will suit.

TO ACTION I IMAGINE

[foolproofed]

Great! I'll be here.

[While super-cleaning.

These boxes and messes and broken glasses ain't gonna clean themselves. He even rolls his gritty sleeves up--poor, poor sleeves, all stained to hell thanks to Jack's blood getting all over them. No amount of scrubbing has fixed them entirely. Not that they weren't already fucked up to begin with, but still.

cleaning time

Man, he feels like he should be in one of those ships from the Matrix, this place looks so shitty.]

you imagine correctly

[jurisimpudent]

[Edgeworth shows up a while later, a chessboard tucked under his arm. He looks supremely awkward - more so, even, than usual - dressed to impress in his best suit and cravat tied all the way to his chin.

He's loath to interrupt someone who's being productive and responsible, and so when he sees Marty working hard he just sort of stands there, uncertain, waiting.]

1/2 i can type all i want leave me alone

[foolproofed]

[In person, Marty probably looks a lot scrawnier. Way less impressive than soldiers around here like Reaper or York or that cool sergeant guy. But he likes to try anyway, if he can't do any cool army shit. So he's dragging boxes up from the floor, moving things here and there the effort damn near shaking his arms and legs by the time he finally gets everything back in the pantries and drawers. Crouches low, starts placing things one-by-one into the doors beneath the counters. Heaves a sigh. Only stops when something appears to prick him sharply in the back--some imaginary force that makes him hiss a 'fuck!' under his breath and reach lamely to touch the tender spot.

Rises up, leaned one hand on the counter, sighing. Trapped in his own little world, stopping to regain some pep to keep going; he's not so good at keeping track of time, and since Edgeworth is gonna meet him, he didn't bother tracking it now.]

[foolproofed]

[--Soooo when he turns at last with a less-than-enthused expression, it turns into a startled one and he leans back, bumping his head on the open cabinet door.]

OH--

[A BREATH and he holds his head, eyes fluttering with relief]

Shit, [phew] Man, don't go playing quiet time around the super thought-provoked; this place isn't good for it.

[But he sounds glad because at least you're not a rogue space pirate

y'know

out for revenge or something]

[jurisimpudent]

[During that time he'd been standing there, he'd seen how the fellow was working with, well - with real diligence. That hadn't been what he'd expected in the least, and he wonders why Marty is indeed being so productive.

So Edgeworth's expression doesn't look particularly repentant or guilty. If he thought about it, he'd feel bad about startling Marty, and he'd ask after his head, but he's too distracted by his curiosity to remind himself to be empathetic. So instead, he just looks curious, frowning slightly, examining him and thinking deeply.

After a moment, he says:]

Indeed. Ah - [And then he lowers his head in a half-bow of greeting.] Miles Edgeworth. You are Mr. McFly, correct?

[foolproofed]

[.............. Haha.

He smiles a little, the kind you try not to smile--which he promptly covers with a bashful rub of the back of his head. Should he tell him the painful truth? His name is just not as cool as McFly.]

Aaaa... Just call me Marty. Definitely prefer it to Martin, too.

[He rolls his shoulders, tense, before stepping away from his work.]

Miles or Edgeworth?