ataraxion | [Accidental Video] y'all suck

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[Accidental Video] y'all suck

[Max knew this whole stupid mind powers thing was a generally awful idea. Elizabeth and even a little bit of Rey's work on the comms (even if he still would rather glare at her, in private) had done a relatively bang-up job making Max think maybe there was a shadow of possibility this powers business would actually do any good for them. Besides — if he could calm his mind down enough to actually control it, he would stop giving away memories and hallucinations and feelings all willy nilly. So yes, he tried focusing, tried materializing things, tried to keep it all in check. Nothing too personal — just channeled it. Other than a few rather personal thoughts hovering through the cracks from other people he'd never know the names of, he has had pretty good luck.

'Til of course, a particularly rough series of nightmares had caused him to muck things up. He'd woken up in the corner of his room with something heavy and rough against his jaw and cheekbones and lips. Somewhere in his fervent dreaming, he'd gone and materialized that fucking muzzle; the same one he had supposedly locked up in his locker, kept away so that it couldn't actually get used against him again. And now it's on his fucking face.

So he does the totally wise thing, which is struggling pathetically to remove it with his hands before he rushes into the nearest kitchen and starts pulling out drawers and ripping open cabinets. The motions are rough and not too careful, and his network device crashes onto the ground and displays him pretty much wrecking one of your kitchen areas. This drawer? He's pouring it out on the counter and digging around. It's all spoons, who needs spoons. There's a knife and he tries to shove it under the padlock behind his head and scrape it open, but it's just grinding down the grooves on the blade.

As he pushes over appliances and spills someone's coffee, this is an approximate translation one can hear while he spits the dummy:]

Fucking [INCOHERENT CURSING] shi—fuchgk [INCOHERENT GROWLING] my face, for fuck's sake, bloodghy— [???????] FUCK!

[WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL YOUR SHARP THIN STABBY OBJECTS, I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN AWESOME HIGH-TECH KITCHEN

EGG-BEATERS ARE NOT GOING TO FUCKING CUT IT.

He tugs pretty pathetically on the long chain hanging there, slips his fingers under the thick metal bands before he tries to shove a butterknife into the keyslot.

....

THWUMP.

This the sound of his forehead softly thunking against the cabinet door in frustration.

... Well, maybe there's a decent nail file somewhere in engineering or something...

~~Fuck your powers y'all can eat your powers and get indigestion and cark it, for all he cares.~~]

((OOC: Action permissible for Nami and Elizabeth, have fun girls.))

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[...

Yeah, Nami is having second thoughts about using this kitchen. If any of the inarticulate swearing and yelling and thumping that echoes down the hall outside is anything to go by. And chain rattling...? She hovers outside the door, trying to work out what the hell that is without, y'know, making eye contact or anything.

Does this place have a prison
Is there an escaped prisoner in here
Is there an escaped lunatic in here

~~all of the above~~

...if there is, is that a bad thing? This whole ship is kind of creepy-ass, just--

--huh. Now it's gone silent, and it takes her a moment to hear the more gentle thuds that sound kind of pathetic, which gives her enough courage to actually kind of. Creep in.

Oh, it's just you.]

Max...?

[What the hell.]

[ Elizabeth has been spending a lot of time in the kitchen, considering her desire to learn how to cook. She's considering how best to use the products she'd obtained from the gardens when she hears the commotion and freezes, wary. Booker would advise her to get out of there; it like isn't safe, after all, and she's had her fill of danger.

... And yet. There isn't any harm in seeing what's happening, is there? If someone asks what she heard, she wouldn't have much to tell them aside from some enthusiastic banging and rifling around in the drawers. So, taking a big breath, the brunette peeks around the corner. ]

Oh! [ She remembers him from the hallways, when she'd made bread appear from thin air. The strangely quiet man from the corridor was now tearing apart the kitchen, to... remove the mask, she assumed. Elizabeth smiles slowly, watching his progress, making note of his... muzzle.

Well, she can always run if she has to. ]

Do you... need any help?

[ It's then that she notes Nami nearby and offers a smile to the stranger. ]

Hello. Did this just happen? This... whatever this is, exactly.

[Oh look, it's the woman who knows his name against his will.

Hello, orange-haired woman. He barely even glances at her, grunting an affirmative, as if to say yep, yeah, that's my name, all while wearing his best scowl as he attempts to chisel down the knife into the padlock. Clearly he's got this under control, lady.

... Ladies.

The other shows up, and his shoulders sag a little, glancing around the mess he's made with a rather exasperated bend to his caged mouth. When Elizabeth asks if he needs help, he relents a response.]

No.

...

Yes.

[His pride and independence is horribly overshadowed by how much he hates this mask.

He finally turns to look at them, dropping the wrecked knife on the counter. On the bright side, other than a few very slightly bleeding nicks on the back of his head from the blade, he hasn't exactly gone too crazy with the silverware. Calm. He breathes in and out. It will be off his face eventually. He has to remember that, when he feels caged in. Yeah. There is plenty aboard the ship that can remove a muzzle.

He says, rather cryptically (or maybe not as cryptic as expected):]

Dreamed it on.

I get it.

[She spent some time with Tadashi down at the bar when he was imagining up baseball caps. It's not too far a stretch that someone might subconsciously create something while having a dream. Or a nightmare, in this case, she assumes.

She doesn't get why a muzzle, but that's something she's not going to ask. Not after their last tetchy conversation at the bar. Instead, Nami runs a hand over her mouth, giving Elizabeth a glance and a quick smile. The question got answered, so...]

Barring a high-tech solution, we can pick the lock. Assuming it has a padlock. [She can't see from the front, but it makes sense.]

You've been practicing, then.

[ It's amazing, in a cosmic sense, how these three people ended up in this place, calmly discussing the magicked muzzle on the face of a very angry man. He isn't being violent anymore, at least, and Elizabeth looks back from Nami to the other thoughtfully. ]

Well, I have a lock pick. [ She doesn't think it's a very unique skill, but she's gotten very good at it. The brunette produces said pick with a little smile. ][ And she inclines her head toward Max, whose name she still doesn't know. ]

Would you like me to try?

[He huffs the most indignant sound at the mention of practice.

So much for that, right.

He looks at them from the corner of his eye, looking surprisingly torn by the offer of them picking the lock. He wants the muzzle off. He really, really wants the muzzle off. But he doesn't really know these people; doesn't know what they're capable of, doesn't know them enough to gain respect and trust. He wouldn't have let Furiosa anywhere near him when she gave him the file; and she understood that he wouldn't.

But what could they do?

They could always snap his neck, if they're strong enough.

Or jam a blade into his spine, if it's hidden on them.

Or a gun to the base of the neck, kablam.

His shoulders are immediately tense at the thought, his whole body ready for flight if needed, just from the gruesome thoughts alone that his mind conjures up. One of them gave him perfectly unpoisoned rum. One of them spoke with him about conjuring with his hands full, no attack. They're both well-fed and have all the medical supplies they need; they would only kill him for something he had that the ship didn't have, and that was nothing, nothing at all other than an old dusty jacket and a run-of-the-mill handgun.

He's done nothing to earn their ire.

It should... be okay. It should be fine. The more malicious thing to do would be to watch him squirm and struggle, wouldn't it? Yeah, it would. He realizes he's been quiet for a long time in his head, eyes dark with stormy paranoid thoughts, but —

But he sits down slowly in one of the chairs, turning his back toward them.

It clearly takes a lot for him to do it, but he really, really, really wants the lock picked and the muzzle gone.

Still, he can't help but stare at them from the corner of his eye anyway.]

[Nami darts Elizabeth a sharp and assessing look at the mention of a lockpick-- it's in her nature, given her own profession. As it were. But she holds silence until Max stews through his options and finally sits down in a chair like he's still expecting them both to tackle him, and she breathes out softly.

Well, there's a padlock after all. Could've been worse, Max. You could've dreamed up an unlockable one.]

I'll leave it up to you, then. [She tells Elizabeth that cheerfully, but she's giving Max a wide berth as she travels round him to sit somewhere in his view. She's getting an idea what kind of guy he is, really.] Let me know if you need a hand.

Are you sure? [ The other woman seems confident, capable, but... well, she has had quite a lot of practice picking locks. Safes, doors, places she should never have been able to access, except for all the time she'd had to practice and understand the mechanics of locks.

Luckily, this is a simplistic one. If it were more complicated, more modern, she might not be able. Elizabeth peers at it after Max sits, not questioning why it took him so long (though he must want it off, she assumes, given... well, he'd said so, despite the hesitation). She smiles slowly at Nami, then moves forward to examine the lock itself. ]

It'll just take a minute. [ In case he's nervous, or anything like that. Elizabeth chews on her lip, looking closely, trying not to invade his personal space too much, since she's learning more about boundaries and how they work in society outside of solitary life in a tower. Soon, she has the pick stuck in the hole, moving it occasionally, making small, frustrated noises to herself, until: ]

There! [ Humming happily, she steps back; the lock tumbles to the ground as the muzzle loosens. ] How is that?

[Max watches Nami for much of it, or at least glances at her. It does make him feel better than her standing and looming behind him out of view — but even despite that, his hands grip his knees a bit, twitching at the scrape of the lockpick on metal. He looks at the corner of his eyes with an uncertain expression every time she makes a frustrated noise. If she wanted to stab him, she'd have done it already. It's all good. All fine.

The lock falls and his face blooms with a euphoric relief, as he pulls the mask roughly and lets it fall into his lap. If he had more of that fizzled out anger, he'd have tossed it harshly against a wall or something. But this thing can't leave his hands; he's got to get rid of it properly. The last thing he wants is it floating around this place.

He is a little flustered, though. Spent all the frustrated panic, and she had politely picked it while he sat like a nervous dog getting a quick shave. Really, he almost gave himself a shave — touching the back of his head with his hand, he feels the slight sting of cuts he'd caused with the very tip of the chipped knife from before.

Then he looks down at the mask, clearing his throat.]

It's good.

[Thank you is not big in his vocabulary. He's grateful, though. Embarrassed but grateful. And quite a bit more relaxed. With a newfound annoyance, he frowns up at the two of them.]

I shouldn't have tried those powers before; they're a pain.

[Nami's own smile is reassuring. She's cool with Elizabeth picking the lock because it means she doesn't have to, and that way she can keep the skill to herself for a while longer. She watches, though, tapping one foot, probably... inadvertently entering a staring contest with Max. Stop staring at her, dude.

At the rough clack of the lock opening, she glances back at Elizabeth, then grins at the relieved look on Max's face.]

No, you just need practice so you don't end up doing this kind of thing by mistake. That's all.

[To Elizabeth:] That's a pretty handy skill.

[ Elizabeth smiles brightly at the pair of them, stepping away, slipping the lockpick back into the folds of her skirt. ]

I agree; it takes a lot of practice, and... well, a good amount of concentration, but it can really be amazing.

[ Remember the bread? Hadn't that been worth it??

She glances to Nami when addressed, arms linked behind her back. ]

Thank you! I've... strangely, had a lot of time and locks on which to practice. Back home, we encountered a lot of doors, and...

[ She frowns slightly, wondering if she should explain the "we," if she should explain why there were quite so many locks. ]

It's worked out well, anyway.

[(help i'm surrounded)

Max will stare at you all he wants, Nami, he's clearly in a compromising position here. But her grin does soften the edges of his usual grim expression, leaving him mostly just frustrated at said powers in general. Practice? How do you practice this kind of thing without screwing it up and doing something like this? He'd probably have a pile of muzzles if he kept this up. Granted everything so far has vanished, mostly...

He grumbles a non-reply at Nami, tossing the muzzle onto the counter without care for the sake of it or the actual counter. Both are metal, they can handle it He cricks his neck in continued relief and breathes in and out deeply, trying to find some zen after that mess he made. Which is still a mess. We're all in the middle of World War III in this poor kitchen, okay.

And he's letting you two talk over him. He is so down with that.

Casually — ]

Mmn. You're both marauders.

[SURROUNDED BY THIEVES

I MEAN, I'M ONE TOO SOMETIMES, IT'S ALL GOOD LADIES.]

Edited 2015-07-16 10:18 (UTC)

It can get you out of a bind in a hurry--

[Well, that accusation was out of thin air, gosh. She sits up straight, blinking at Max. Does she have I am a thief tattooed on her forehead or something. Rude.

Also accurate, though. Sort of. Let me correct you on that--]

Pirate. Actually.

Though I can't speak for, uh-- [Elizabeth, she's looking at you.] I'm sorry, what was your name?

"Marauders?" [ Elizabeth laughs, shaking her head. ] I don't think I'm much for the roguish type. [ She usually leaves that to Booker, save for the lock picking.

The brunette glances at Nami, though, perking up at the word "pirate." ]

Oh-- Elizabeth. And you are?

[ And is she really a pirate? She thinks of novels she's read, of Treasure Island and Blackbeard and stands a little straighter, her body language clearly interested. ]

[Oh well, she's asking for Nami's name.

Max will be totally polite and let her answer that. Or not.

It's not like he's sharing his own name right. But he does grumble:]

Pirate, same difference...

[Suck it up, Max, Elizabeth is clearly interested and they're just gonna talk over your head some more. Unless you want her to introduce you. :D]]

Nami. I don't know, picking locks does tend to make you look a little roguish. [She's just gonna reach behind herself casually for something soft-- this dishcloth will do-- and lob it at Max's head. Quiet, you heathen.] What are pirates like in your world?

A little, all right... but not too much, do you think?

[ Sorry, Max. Girl talk now. ]

Well, it isn't as if I've met any; I've just read stories about them, and heard some historical accounts. Really, they sound like they have terribly exciting lives, but I also think they kill more often than they do anything.

[ She pauses. ] That's just all from books, though; I'm sure it's different where you've come from.

[I feel suspiciously like the third wheel.

Am I the third wheel?]

[Mmrr. What's there to eat around here?

Wandering off to investigate okay bye assholes.]

No, your books would be right. A lot of pirates are no better than monsters-- and you can't trust any of them. We're not exactly hero types. [She shifts aside to let Max pass, even gives him a quick half-smile as he does. It's not like they're ignoring you on purpose, gosh, you're just not the most talkative guy ever.]

But some crews tend to be in it more for the freedom of it. If you don't want to kowtow to the marines or the World Government, then generally, you might take to piracy. You're not necessarily a terrible person, just... you don't like being told what to do.

[ It isn't her fault; she's never met a pirate before, and she's perfectly enthralled to be having a conversation with one! Elizabeth smiles as Max passes, but her attention is completely on Nami, for now. ]

I can understand that. It's somehow similar to Columbia, where I live. If you don't agree with the main ideology, you can be badly persecuted, or worse.

[ Comstock isn't exactly known for his open-mindedness. ]

But it's more religious than political. And... there is a group that opposes it all, but they can be just as difficult, in some ways.

[Max is busy opening a can of what appears to be some kind of spam. And yet again, he's completely and utterly silent through this entire exchange. He wanders over to the table and plops down next to the muzzle, jamming a spoon into the can as his gaze shifts between the two girls.

Excuse him while he eats this greedily, with big, heart bites and a less than pleasant table manner.

He's learning, okay, just keep going.]

Yeah, both extremes tend to be bad in situations like that. We have absolutely terrible pirates who will happily try destroying entire islands full of people, but when the marines come to fight them, a lot of them don't care how many innocents get caught in the crossfire as long as they get their bad guy. Absolute justice.

[She snorts. And then there are the corrupt marines which are everywhere, but that's a whole 'nother story.]

Not much in the way of religion, though. At least-- not anything widespread. A lot of islands probably have their own. Do you get into trouble at home, then?

[Which is another way of asking if Elizabeth is religious and on good terms with her own government. With a lockpicking skill, she wonders.

...also Max, get some taste. First that vile swill you were drinking and now this.]

It's just like that! Only, the Founders and the Vox... [ She sighs, shaking her head. ] They want things to be so black and white, but they never really are, are they?

[ Elizabeth watches Max rummage, slightly distracted. He reminds her of Booker, somehow. ]

Well... yes. [ Does "supposed to be an icon for one of the groups and absolutely fed up with it all" count as "trouble?" ] I don't really fit into either side, and... my father isn't very happy about that.

[ Beat. She turns fully to Max, then, sidetracked. ]

Would you like me to cook something for you? That can't be enough.

[Very interesting information. He's shockingly listening along — it's nice to just watch other people talk and ignore him, now that he really thinks about it. Less focus on him to make him nervous, less hearing the ghosts. And he's getting intel about their worlds? Good. Very good. But then Elizabeth glances over to him as he swallows a big mouthful of the mystery meat, and he blinks confusion.

Glancing from Nami and the girl to his food, he seems a bit puzzled.]

This is a lot. Shouldn't stretch your stomach.

[Shrug. The muzzle beside him, oddly, seems to be slowly eroding from reality.]

You could cook for you.

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mikangirl - 2015-08-01 07:47 (UTC) - Expand

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[Accidental Video] y'all suck

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