ataraxion | video-

Entry tags:

video-

[The feed clicks on and there's a beat or two of Heather just sitting cross-legged on her bed before she starts to speak. The pause isn't nearly as dramatic as some others this jump, though; more like she's decided she needs to say something without quite deciding what it is she wants to say. Sure, by now there must be more people on board who never knew Hotspur than people who did, but he should be more than a cautionary tale about what happens if you don't get into a grav couch in time. He died trying to help everyone out of this mess, and that should be remembered.

When she does speak it's calm enough, although in a way that people who know her well will probably realize takes a little effort.]

Are we going to talk about what we heard before the jump? I know there's a lot to take in right now, but... something takes that much effort to say and it gets said anyway? We ought to be listening.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Better than using these things.

[s i g h]

Well, it's done now.

[so get off her nuts ok]

[ha ha good one]

Just - [huff. He's not sure what he wants to say, but she can probably guess at what they might be as well as he can. So moving on.]

Never good, when the network starts fuckin' up.

I know.

[And this is where she starts to feel the tiniest bit guilty, because between the unpleasant reminder and the fact they skipped a jump and Takeshi's whole exploding head situation, she can see how maybe some people might possibly perceive what she's doing as acting out.

They'd be wrong, but she can see how they'd think that.]

I'm not gonna do anything stupid, okay? I'm not gonna go marching out into the ship or break into the bridge or try and get a personal audience with Ward or Resnik. It's just -

he was a good guy. A really good guy. I can't stand the thought that he died for nothing.

[It's pretty bad when even he thinks that there are a lot of Issues wrapped up in what she's saying. Unfortunately that doesn't keep him from saying what he thinks, even if he's got an inkling that he very well might be smashing some buttons with it.]

So. You're, what. Trying to get people to pay attention to him.

Won't help anything.

What? No.

[Jesus Christ, Netherlands. That's a little insulting.]

I want to know what he was going to say.

[It's not exactly that she feels guilty - she knows it wasn't her fault - but there are things that stick in her mind

seven for a secret, never to be told

don't die in the next ten minutes

that make her wonder if she could have done something, if she'd just paid a little more attention.]

Oh.

[Except it's very much a "oh, huh" kind of oh. Not an "oops" kind of oh.

Also he really doesn't know much about the lead-up to Hotspur's death. It was before he paid much attention to the network, and even after he went back and skimmed it the takeaway was "don't trust Ward or Resnik". He should've asked her more about it, but - they were a mess, then.

tl;dr he doesn't quite get what she means with that.]

Y'think there's more?

[and she flicks it on to private. No longer under any illusions that it'll stop the captain or the engineer from seeing, but there's no reason anybody else should see this unless they really make the effort.]

Yeah. Before - before the jump, he pinged some of us. Me, some other people. Asked us to meet him after because there was something he needed to tell us. I know there was more to it than that.

[And since it's on private, and she doesn't feel so exposed: sorry, Nederland. Feelings. Not crying, but she definitely sounds choked up.]

The last thing I said to him - the very last thing - was don't die.

Needed to tell - not to the whole network.

[Maybe that matters, or maybe Hotspur was just a secretive kind of guy. But, okay. That can be checked over later, he knows that sound and ignoring it isn't an option, much as he's not looking forward to a probably weepy Heather and definitely some heavy shit. For now, though.]

Um. [Great start there buddy.] I'll go there. If y'want.

[He says, as he's already up and moving.]

It wasn't -

[wasn't like that, she means to say. He wasn't trying to keep secrets; from what he'd said, he just wanted to bounce the idea off a few people first. Her, Starbuck - people who knew him enough to know he'd only bring something like that to them if he was sure about it.]

Yeah. Please.

Edited 2013-06-10 11:16 (UTC)

Okay. Should be - ten. Maybe fifteen.

[Yep he's in the Gardens and no one was surprised. But he is on his bike, and the only travel time is the lift (he spends most of the time talking himself out of smoking because trying to think of good things to say is fruitless). Thirty more seconds to swap the bike for a bunny and maybe he should change into something fresher, less sweat and plant-scented - he's taken too long already, though.

Instead of knocking he swipes his hand and waits to see what happens, muttering to Lodewijk in low, annoyed Dutch. If she hasn't fixed her goddamned lock...]

[Nothing happens except that she hears him (not the words, just his arrival and the low tone of his voice) and gets up to let him in.

He doesn't need to know that she only wiped all the automatic access out of her door about twenty minutes ago, when Murphy suggested that something was using Hotspur's voice.]

Hey.

[She's wearing signs of frustration rather than weepiness, cheeks flushed and her bangs in even more of a mess that usual from where she's been dragging her hand through them, a frown that softens when she sees him and a little more when she sees he brought the little guy. Hi, boys.]

Mm.

[Which isn't a return greeting so much as a grunt of approval over the fact that apparently she's fixed it; neither is the next moment where he steps back and cocks his head to the side, blinking over her current state with the sort of open curiosity his rabbit would normally have rather than the usual assessing frown. Not what he expected after ten minutes with nothing to do but fret about her. (Stupid, she can handle herself, but reminding himself of that never makes it stop anymore.)

But even her ragged edges are familiar - comforting, too, in a way he can't place - and so the next second has him huffing, bewildered with the two of them, and he steps back into her space again. Curls his free arm around, leans down and lingers on the third kiss even though it's a little awkward all around. Not just heights or the fact that they're in the doorway - Lodewijk wants in on it too.]

Should take 'im.

[Awkward's fine by her - having him near is good, the linger is nice, and Lodewijk getting all wuffly in the middle of it is just cute enough to get her smiling. She settles on hand on Ned's arm during the greeting, fingers curling lightly around, and there's a little reluctance to move it when it's done.]

Well. If he insists.

[Bunny kisses are good for every hurt. She cradles Lodewijk close to her chest and just tips her face down into fluffy smooches for a moment before it occurs to her that getting out of the doorway's probably a plan. Tilts her head in to the room by way of invitation (not that he should feel he needs one anymore) before she moves to sit on her bed, fingers smoothing through fur and mind ticking over what she should say.]

I know it's not gonna fix it, you know. I'm not under any illusions that finding out what he was going to tell us is gonna make him any less dead.

[He watches them with soft eyes and a funny tilt to his mouth, and those stay as she makes her way to the bed and he prods the door closed and tension starts making its way back into his posture again. Not apprehension - that vanished once he got here - but something a little more alert. Something that notes the time it takes for her to decide to say anything, just how far she curls around the rabbit instead of sprawling. When she speaks his expression snaps to attention as well. He pauses at the foot of the bed, dwelling over her words like those will tell him where and how he needs to be sitting.]

Didn't think y'were...

[Good to be sure, though. With that he turns and sits beside her, their legs touching, twists to lean behind her and snatches at a pillow.]

[Okay. Maybe a little overly defensive there, but his confirmation's good. A little almost-laugh of acknowledgment while he snags that pillow and she presses her leg closer against his, decides it's not enough and hooks her foot behind his, shin-to-calf.]

What did you think?

[Said mildly enough, but her eyes are fixed on his face, not sure what to make of his reaction.]

[... uh. Huh? He blinks at her, quirks his mouth down in a fleeting frown, and in the meantime distractedly smushes the pillow into place behind him with one arm.]

About what.

[There's a lot of things to think about. Or that maybe he did think? Either way he's not sure what the question's all about or where she's trying to take the conversation anymore.]

[Netherlands

she loves you

but sometimes you are hard work. She sighs, grateful for Lodewijk giving her something to occupy restless hands with.]

'bout the transmission. Hotspur. Me wanting to find out about it.

[That's still too many damned things! He spends a second sullenly judging that answer before he sighs and leans back against the pillow-wall. If she's gonna ask about everything... the most straightforward answer first, then.]

Don't think y'should use the network to find out.

[That it's a topic that he feels is necessary to hash over and finds far more comfortable than Hotspur anything is a bonus though.]

Didn't do any good, anyway. If anybody knows anything useful they're keeping it to themselves. It was mostly just a bunch of people telling me I'm chasing shadows.

[Which he probably knows, because she knows what he's like.

Of course, the flip side of that is that he probably knows her too well to think that'll deter her from digging at it, but hey - at least it won't be on the network.]

And the rest?

That's not -

[Huff. That's not what he was talking about and she knows it. He thinks her habit of plunging headfirst into things is stupid, thinks her disregard for making herself into a target is - either worryingly self-destructive, cocky, or ignorant. Even though they've had some form of that conversation too many times to count, he's still annoyed that the subject gets changed just like that.

He goes along with it, but his tone is leaning toward snappish.]

I don't think it was him. Exactly. [Sigh.] Waste of time t'guess, though. Rather we get ready for whatever the hell the ship's gonna do next.

[Yeah that was an intentionally-spoken we.]

Hey.

[Not indignant - not as indignant as it would be with anyone else, anyway - because she knows he worries. Doesn't know how much of that is just him and how much is the lingering grip of the mask, but it's something she can relate to. She worries, too - for everyone on the ship that she cares about, and for herself with the inevitable losses that sort of care brings. If he didn't sound so pissed off she'd kiss his cheek. She shifts instead, moving so she's cross-legged on the bed and facing him, Lodewijk still cradled in her lap.]

That was me saying I won't do it again. Strictly off the network from here on.

[It's not "I'll stop asking questions", which is probably what he'd prefer, but it's the truth. And he's got a point; something's brewing. They need to prepare.]

What are you thinking? Emergency plans?

[Even if it's not indignant her "hey" is enough of a check to reel him back, though, and he watches her shift with his brows creeping up only to quirk them when she says she won't do it again. She means that she won't plan to do it again, right? He doesn't say it but he's definitely thinking it. (And if she volunteered to stop asking questions he would either laugh in her face - good one - or Christo her. He's not expecting that to ever happen and if it did he'd. Well. Probably go into some top tier worrying.)

Plans, though. He gives a sharp nod and reaches out to scratch at Lodewijk's ears, looks at her while he does it.]

Sorta. Need to make - preparations, I guess. Talked to Kirk, checked out a couple guns. Y'should take one.

[Yo Heather did you want a phaser when you grew up.]

[Hells yes she did, and it shows all over her face. Guns are terrible and a last resort when there's no other option

but boy oh boy does she like having that option.]

What kind of gun? Like a [don't say space gun] laser-type deal? Does it need ammo?

[After scouring half of the Star Trek of the internet I still have no clue just how long phasers are supposed to last goddamnit Star Trek why must you do this. Anyway.

Netherlands is trying not to be viciously amused, over here. He's kind of failing even if he's telling himself that there's a lot more business to take care of than something like guns.]

Called Phasers. [Maybe don't sound quite so smug while saying that, Nederland. He clears his throat.] Have to get re-charged.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject