ataraxion | 004 -- video.

Got a couple of requests.

[ his cut is stripped off and draped across his lap, one desert eagle resting atop it. jax is in his faded white "reaper crew" t-shirt and shoulder holsters. he's sitting tipped back in the chair. his boots are resting on the edge, not that it's within frame. ]

Anyone with some technical know-how wanna swing by the gunnery? See, we been doing what we can on these fucking turrets and consoles, but there's some shit that's beyond us. A bunch of them are too fried to work, and that's a problem, assuming the shit that goes bump in the night comes at us from the outside. Back home, we get a second opinion before ripping out the guts and starting over, so anyone thinks they can shed some light on the situation, I'll owe you one.

[ it's not as detailed a description as it could be, but as far as jax is concerned there's only so many ways to say "fucked beyond comprehension" before getting redundant. he tugs at the strap of one holster, pausing like he's letting that sink in. ]

I also gotta ask, anyone up here capable of tattooing? It's not like I've seen any place capable of it since we made our last stop. Am I reaching here?

[ probably, but a man's gotta ask. ]

Hey, Hyperion. I gotta talk to you too. You got a minute any time soon?