[You are greeted by a man who looks nothing like his usual self, a bit lazy and unkempt and half asleep. He had a long couple of nights exploring, alright? But he runs a hand over his chin and looks thoughtful.]

You know. I was going to ask something else, but... I'd give twenty bucks I don't have for a good shave and a trim on my hair.

Yeah, you've heard it before. Doesn't change that there's necessity. Somebody ought to make a list of this stuff. Barbers, tailors, cooks, things like that.

( here have a cut for a long explanation as to where Gwen's been and what she's been up to! )

so when the video feed clicks on, she looks... okay, haggard is a strong word. but it's obvious she's worn herself out, her hair is a mess compared to the usual neat ponytail she wears in the labs, and she's surrounded by pieces of tech she's used to try and get a read on the hard drives. she props the camera up on something just ahead of her, so she has room to scroll through her iPad and use her free hand to show visuals ( oh yes, she has visuals ) on camera. ]

Hello, Tranquility. [ she waves ] I know it's still early yet, a month isn't a long time to search through labs that are as torn apart as the one we found a few weeks ago, but I was hoping to get in touch with anyone that's managed to pull some of the tech from those new labs. I remember someone - a man named Cambridge, yes? - made a request over the Network for people to find equipment he could look at in regards to the virus found on the computers down there - [ she might be flipping through her iPad until she finds her transcript for this transmission ( yes, she keeps transcripts of conversations she thinks might be important later, and here we are ) ] Yes! Right. I'm assuming some of you answered the request? So, I would love to discuss anything you might have found on those hard drives, especially if it looks anything like- [ she's reaching out to grab the text-book sized drive she found in the labs herself ] -this one. Um. [ okay all hard drives probably look the same if you're someone that hasn't been staring at a few for the past million days, oops ] I just mean, if you pulled them from any of the computers on the second floor of the genetics labs, specifically.

Because I've found something, but it's very obviously just a small piece of a much bigger file. [ much bigger discovery, but she doesn't want to seem like she's in over her head here. ] If you've found anything at all, any file that doesn't appear to be damaged or corrupted beyond saving, let me know. I definitely feel that we would benefit from aggregating our information, especially when it comes to something like this. It- It could open a lot of doors for us. When it comes to the original crew, of course. Maybe finding out what happened? This- This might make that possible, we just need to keep digging.

And if you've got the perseverance for finding more, let me know here as well. Peter and I can use all the help we can get trying to recover information from those labs, because I have no doubt we'll find our way back down there to look for more. So. Right!

-- Thank you!

[ here's a tired, ( but enthusiastic! ) Welcome-to-Oscorp! intern smile, then she's shutting off the feed. ]

[PRIVATE to TONY STARK ( OPR » 001 » 005 ), encrypted 100% ]

Are you busy? I need to show you this. Or- Look what I found. [ someone might be kind of exhausted and running on SCIENCE!!! adrenaline, so she's scrolling around her communicator so she can send him a file] It's safe, I promise, just a raw text file. I didn't want to show everyone else right away because - well, it doesn't look like much, does it? But look at it, there's- just look. [ oh my god please tell her to chill out ]

>>
>>FILE TRANSFER:
>>
>> PROJECT4241516PT1.EXE
>>

[PRIVATE to WHEATLEY ( SCI » 001 » 089 ) encrypted 100% ]

Hi. We've never actually spoken, but, I've noticed you spend a lot of time in the labs and I know this is possibly way too presumptuous of me, but I was hoping you might be able to assist me in further researching the tech down in the genetics lab. Or.. maybe just answering a few questions for me. Please. [ BIG SHEEPISH SMILE. ] If you have any interest in doing so, I mean. Of course. [ duh. way to go, Stacy. cool manners, bro. ]



[ ooc: SO. I was going to make a separate ooc post, but I realized it's pretty much all explained here, and shown here ( click on le file she sent to Tony to see what she found ). basically yeah, Gwen's got a tiny bit of metaplot of the info variety, but she has no idea what it means ( and neither do I ahhhhhh ), so she's basically just hoping someone else found something similar to it. yep! any questions, feel free to ping me about it, but the only info the mods actually sent me was that image, hahaha. and they let me know that it would take a shit-ton of work to get to that tiny piece of file, too. sneakysneaky ship trying to hide things!! -- if you're interested in having your character find another piece of the genetics experiment puzzle, contact the mods! :D ]

[ There's the whisper of not-quite silence that indicates the device is recording, followed by the sounds of someone obviously fiddling with it, like Emily's realized what a bad idea showing her face to the network could be, and might just turn the device off and call it a day. It takes a minute, but the video eventually clicks on. ]

So.

[ No going back now... ]

Everyone's got this moniker that their parents gave them, and it stays with you- its, really, the only thing that can't take it on the heel and toe, dig? And- I mean, there's gotta be some thought that goes into giving a person a name, like... your parents know you're coming and they've got all these gowed-up hopes, savvy? That you're gonna be this tomato of a doll, that you're gonna be a right gee, that maybe you'll end up a little bit like both of them- [ A glance off screen, chewing on her bottom lip. ] Or nothing like either of them...

But they've gotta choose this moniker that's going to stay with you for the rest of your life, that stands to define you, and--

[ A hopeless look, like this is the edited and condensed version of a much longer conversation she's had over and over with herself- one she's well past frustrated with. ]

How does someone do that?

Ladies and gentlemen of the Tranquility, good evening.

[From the video, you can see Albert is seated somewhere in the oxygen gardens, on a wide-open patch of grass. He looks somewhat contemplative.]

I have a-- a somewhat personal question to ask of you all, so don't feel compelled to answer if you don't wish to. [He seems to hesitate, and then he plunges ahead quickly, as if he must ask it before he loses courage.]

How many of you here believed yourselves to have passed away before you woke up in this place?

And-- for those of you who don't want to talk about something quite so morbid, maybe you could tell me what year, or what country, or planet you come from. I'd... really like to hear about other people's homes. As for me-- I'm from Paris, France, the year 5053.

I've also got some tea and plenty of cups to go around here in the garden, if you'd prefer to speak in person. I'd welcome the company, and the chance to meet all of you.

[ The video comes on and Nolan is putting on a tie over the pink polo he was given in his locker. He's not a fan of the uniform he was given. He has an annoyed half-smile on his face. ]

So let me get this straight. I get abducted, put in what is essentially goo, and then I'm expected to wear a uniform and march around the ship like a happy, obedient person.

[ He shifts a little as he gets the tie neatly in place. ]

I don't do dress codes. I may or may not even be wearing pants.

[ The camera is focused on his upper body for just that reason. ]

At least the rooms are easy to navigate, although the rest of the ship leaves much to be desired. I wonder how many individuals get lost to it. You can skip the 'you can't leave' thing. I've seen movies, and this is all very science-fiction.

( Locked to Emily Thorne | 100% Encryption )

Em. I know you're here. Time to talk.

i've noticed crew members talking on the network about wanting to go out to explore the deeper parts of the ship, so i thought i'd reach out here - how many of you would be interested in going out as a search party for *people*, instead of places? so far three people we thought were lost for good have actually been here on the ship this whole time, what if there are more? what if none of the passengers we've lost have actually gone home? the ship is impossibly huge, isn't it?

i know it's a long shot, and i know it's a lot to ask, but i can't shake the feeling that there might be more people lost out there and need help getting back.

and i'd like to leave as soon as we wake up from the next jump.

no plans are set in stone just yet, but i'd like to get a headcount of those that would be interested in helping me.

( INDIVIDUAL PRIVATE TEXTS TO SPOCK, KIRK, TYKE; ENCRYPTED 80% )
i know i should have run all this by you before posting a transmission, but it's cutting close to jump time, so. there's that. am i crazy for wanting to do this? you can say yes. but i'd really you much rather give me the okay to do this because i can't tell you how much it's been bothering me since we all got back from finding the genetics labs.

( PRIVATE TO ERIK LEHNSHERR & CHARLES XAVIER; ENCRYPTED 80% )

message me back, let me know you're both okay. we're long overdue for a talk.

( INDIVIDUAL PRIVATE TEXTS TO JAKE ENGLISH, REMUS LUPIN, SIRIUS BLACK; ENCRYPTED 80% )

hi.


[ooc: mildly aggressive!Raven is brought to you by the letter want-to-wear-my-mask-is-finally-affecting-me. she doesn't have it back yet, but being out in the ship made the pull to wear it stronger, so. yep! ]

[Edgeworth sounds characteristically brisk and serious.]

I would like to ask everyone to take a moment to speak here - or to leave a text message - about what it is that they most wish to get home to, or what it is they most appreciate here.

There's a jump approaching, and not too long from now. As we all know, jumps rarely bring good things - they herald lost friends, new disasters. This is a difficult life we have here aboard this ship - one fraught with pain, with misery, with fear. It's far too easy to become lost in the morass of despair. It's too easy, with each jump, to think: what if I don't? What if I do not go to the jump bay? What if I simply sit back and let it all end?

I ask that you, in this post, remind everyone why it's worth it to keep on. Why it's worth it to suffer through these jumps, month after month, and why it's worth it to keep cautious and not just go seeking our death in those hallways, and why it's worth it to keep trying to make life better here. As we approach this new jump, as we prepare ourselves to welcome and console these new arrivals, let us remember why we should continue to fight.

Thank you all for your attention and cooperation.

[Blake's not using video today - he's still feeling the effects of the illness he contracted after that rat bit him, and he's tired, and he's not interested in showing the entire ship the bags under his eyes. So it's just voice today.]

Blake here. We've been testing the elevators, since Ianto made his post. They all seem to be working now, but I still recommend exercising caution - go with a friend, if you can, and report any possible malfunctions to engineering ASAP.

[That's out of the way, at least. And now for a slight change of subject:]

The jump is in a few days. I know a lot of people are still recovering from what happened. If you're not already in the med bay, and you need help getting to the pods, please ask for help. I know there are a lot of lone ranger-types around here, but maintaining your pride doesn't mean anything if it kills you. For those new this cycle, yes, I'm completely serious - if you're not in a pod when the jump happens, you will be killed. Whether you think this place is real or not, when people die here, they're definitely dead, so don't be stupid about it. If you can't find a friend or acquaintance to help you get there on time, ask someone on security. We'll give you an escort.

We don't have to like each other - but we do need to communicate and cooperate with each other, if we want to live long enough to get back to our homes.

[Private to Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle - batcryption 85%]

Has Crane been accounted for since the elevator malfunctions?

So the lifts are working correctly now, far as I can tell. I got from the first floor passenger deck to Communications without any problem. And before anyone starts slagging me off for taking the risk of checking them, my defense is that I haven't had any coffee this morning and I was moving on automatic. When any one of you can tell me you've never done anything embarrassingly stupid while half asleep, then you have permission to berate me.

Jack, don't even start.

[Locked to Meg]
I have your chessboard ready, finally. In my defense, the delay was somewhat unavoidable.

[Locked to General Support: Murphy and Ariadne]
We should have a meeting, now that things seem to be in working order again.

[Locked to Nathan Petrelli]
Apparently I'm still in denial, because I looked for her in Communications. But I suppose she really is gone.

You poor things, I worry so much.

Tell me what you see.

-S.

[ It's been a long, long time, Tranquility. Maybe it's time to test the waters again—especially important for a man who is so 'hush-hush,' but it's left to you to determine if this holds any meaning. So much time, so much silence ( what exactly could be done in that time? ). It scratches at the nerves, doesn't it?

What do you think? ]

Been here almost three months now, and I keep coming back to the same conclusion. Almost none you get it. And by almost, I don't mean some, I mean one, and maybe that's even pushing it.

[ As much as he considered taking the opportunity to full on shout at his comm device in video, Peter still can't find it within himself to splash his face on the network. Especially not right now, when he's busy splitting from any idea of reality. It doesn't really help matters that he's aware this he's bound to be in disagreement with... oh, maybe everyone? You don't exactly get to tell people they don't exist and expect them to like you.

Now, it's time for a reality check. For everyone else, mind, not him. ]

This isn't real. It's never going to be real. I don't even know how many of you are real, but nobody really likes hearing that they might not exist so we'll just stick with the basics.

[ Does it sound like he's being condescending? That's because he is. And he doesn't actually care all that much anymore about potentially hurting someone's feelings. ]

I don't care if you've got reasons, I don't care if you've got explanations. Everyone comes up with some way to convince themselves that what they're stuck in is actually reality. Give someone too much time and something they can't pick apart and eventually they'll tell themselves whatever they have to, just to make it all make sense.

But it doesn't. It's not going to.

And before you even ask, no, I don't think it's a nightmare or a dream. Or even a hallucination. So no, I don't need to get shipped off to the psych department to get my head fixed. [ He's particularly growly about that one. ] It's a construct. It's supposed to look real, and unless you've been in one, I wouldn't expect you to know the difference. Looks real, feels real, it's supposed to make you think it's real.

And fuck, if this one's working just a little too damn well.

You won't believe me, i've already got that down. Nathan's got some of you wrapped around his finger, I already know that much, and I already know what he thinks about all this. But I know a different Nathan, and I know one that'd do things to your brain that you wouldn't believe. Doesn't get any better after that. You don't get fixed.

You get his public service announcements and now you're getting mine.

I don't think this bullshit is real, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.

[there's the familiar face of Jim Kirk, and judging from his expression, you can expect this isn't going to be a fun broadcast. next to him is Tyke, who is leaning back in her seat, Jim seated in the middle and Spock standing on his right, hands at parade rest and as unflappable as ever.]

Passengers, this is Jim Kirk, if I could have your attention for a moment.

As everyone knows, we've got people lost in the ship. Petrelli has already asked everyone not to use the lifts and I'm going to repeat that caution. We believe something is malfunctioning and the lifts are sending people to the wrong floor. Judging by the faulty messages we've been getting, we can guess that it's somewhere deep in the ship. Communications is currently working on clearing that up.

Right now I need able-bodied personnel to report to the Gunnery via the stairs. We're going to be working with Security to put teams together. While we don't want anyone else getting lost, we've got people out there who weren't prepared for it. That means they need food and water and probably weapons.

[ spock doesn't step any further into the feed, but he does pull a series of data padds from seemingly nowhere. his gaze doesn't lift from the bundle as he speaks. ] The gunnery department is able to supply a number of projectile based weapons as well as several dozen phasers for those willing and capable of utilizing them. Medical is standing by to receive members of each party and equip them with first aid kits.

[ it isn't an afterthought, but there's something about the way he finally looks at the screen that still says illogical humans. ]

Despite individual concerns for the well-being of friends, family, and your fellow passengers, I do not believe it unreasonable to remind you that this is an emergency alert. Personal feelings aside, we are meant to aid others, and cannot be expected to do so if we do not also ensure our own safety.

[It's at that point that Tyke finally leans forward, but it's clear in her expression and tone that she doesn't want to be talking any more than she has to, barely covered-over frustration and agitation.]

Respond to this if you can see it and you're currently in a known location, even if you're not gonna be involved in running supplies. We need to figure some working idea of how many are lost and how many are safe.


[ooc: kirk, spock & tyke. here is a OOC post for coordination if you guys need it! if you're renting a weapon, check that post out please! also feel free to action it up in this post/talk amoungst yourselves etc]

[ Hey tranquility, hope everything is good on your end, because it sure isn’t on Ariadne’s end. Because she is pretty sure she has no idea where she is right now, and might be freaking out a little.

She would have locked this post to a few people that might have been wondering where she was, but her communicator seems to be having issues and she is just hoping this is at least viewable to someone. ]



I'm lost.




((ooc: obviously her communicator isn't getting a signal like it should, so all her replies will be very limited here. sorry about that.))

[ the feed winks on with no trouble, and there’s an elegantly disheveled man on the other side. it takes skill to look this good, okay. ]

Right. I see you - and that’s a general "you" rather than a specific one - have taken the liberty of marking me without my consent. While I don’t necessarily disapprove, it would be greatly appreciated if you would ask me prior to the event next time, as this isn’t necessarily the location that I would choose. Perhaps something more discreet, I think, for something so boring.

[ can you see the other tattoo peeking out from underneath his sleeve? maybe. he’s got a few. Sherlock sits back in his chair. ]

I assume these numbers mean something [ and there’s a wave of his arm ] if they’re so important as to be tattooed on. I can’t say that my- [ the tiniest pause ] associate will be too pleased with it, but experience tells me that these things are quite meant to last. I can’t see that she has any say it in now, in any case.

[ he’d spin around, if the chair would let him. good lord, don’t you people even have spinny chairs? ]

The way I understand it, we are all currently on a spaceship hurtling into the great beyond, yes? As I’ve not seen any proper crew members, I’d like to know who is piloting. What are their credentials, where did they train, the like. I assume that interplanetary kidnapping is a rather large part of their agenda, so I won’t be so obvious as to ask when I can return to my "cozy" little brownstone. All I ask is that, when I am finally returned, you see to it I’m accompanied by a, a doctor’s note, of sorts, describing the circumstances and why I am not to be held accountable for my mysterious disappearance. You can address said note to Joan Watson, and Captain Gregson of the New York City Police Department. They can pass it along to any other possibly relevant parties, whomever they may be.

Oh. [ there’s a pause where he remembers something, and it’s muttered to himself: ] I hope Watson remembers to tend to my bees. They’re rather high-maintenance around this time of year; it’ll be the least she can do, before she takes her leave.

[ and it ends there. ]


[ooc; like I said, the post is backdated!]

[ sup, tranquility. attractive blond on the network today (nothing new). dressed in a tank-top, hair pulled back in a short tail, he looks tired and a little stressed, but somehow still very.. charming?

he huffs when he realizes the feed's begun, rubbing a hand over his face. ] Okay, so I practiced this shit in the mirror, but-- [ he groans, hand dropping away, frowning a little. ] Basically, there's no amount of goddamn practice that can prepare you for outing yourself on what equates to national tv or whatever. ... Fuck. Okay. I'm not the weirdest thing on this ship, so no big deal, right?

[ he mutters something else under his breath, then sits up. ] --Look, it's like this, right? Hi. I'm Finch. I have a seriously specific diet that I'm gonna' need some help with. [ a fidget, rubbing at the nape of his neck, gaze sliding away briefly. ] .. Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this shit, this is ridiculous. I'm-- uh. Where I'm from, I'm called an incubus. I eat sex energy, and yes, fuck, I know how sleazy it sounds, you don't have to point that shit out, I live it every goddamn day. [ obviously, he's accustomed to jackasses, and will handle other jackasses accordingly.

he pauses for a moment, softening his glare carefully. ] .. Point is, I try to eat at least four times a week to keep myself from turning into what basically amounts to a monster that doesn't give a shit whether you want it or not, and there's only.. what, three-hundred people on this tub? So it's not like I can just feed and move on, you know? [ he looks a little embarrassed, mouth thinning. ] .. I need to know if there are people who'd be willing to be dinner-- regularly.

[ a pause, realizing that sounds, well, pretty negative, before brightening a little, sitting up. ] There are benefits! Seriously, I mean, I'm an incubus. I can personally guarantee it'll be the best fuck you've ever had, and a normal night's sleep should be enough to fix you, and, like, I don't even need you to be human or anything. As long as you can feel pleasure, I can figure out how to give it to you. Also, it doesn't matter how kinky you are, either, you know?

[ another pause, blowing his bangs out of his eyes, head tilting. ] .. Anyway, yeah, that's it. It'd be great if I got some volunteers like, asap. It's been three days and I'm fucking starving. [ he lifts his hand in a little wave. ] Thanks!

[ and the feed ends. y e p. ]


[ ooc; permissions post! ]

[ Wichita is not. a happy. camper. and it's very obvious by her tone, the fact that this is a voice transmission instead of a video and the fact that she hasn't left the bar since she got there earlier today.

in fact, a note to all you Space Babylon regulars, the doors to the bar have been locked ( by her ) and there's no music coming from inside it either. just normal, boring silence. on the transmission, you can probably hear the slosh of booze inside of a near empty bottle ( it was nearly empty when she got here, mind. some of the bottles stopped refilling themselves each jump. isn't that great? ) and the smack of her lips once she finishes her sip before she starts talking ]

To everyone that was fr- that knew Brian Kinney, crew member 006 » 033, I've got some bad news. Or good news, if you're an optimist, which I'm not. He went home last jump. Went to sleep here, woke up not-here.

Which I guess puts me in charge of the bar.

[ hence the doors being locked and the general 'fuck off' vibe of the place ]

Are there any bartenders on board that wouldn't mind working for free? 'Work' is a loose term, I mostly just sit around drinking with people whenever I'm here. Or if anybody wants to.. be here regularly and help make sure it doesn't turn into a crapfest, let me know. Assholes need not apply. [ because nobody will ever be a better asshole than Brian. ..wait, ew. she takes another sip, and only cuts herself off when she hears the tell-tale 'whoa whoa whoa!' of her mini Wall-E bumping into something in the near-dark. ]

Did your light go out again, bud? [ the one she fashioned onto his front in case the power went ut again. or, in the case, when Wichita decides she can't deal with colored strobe lights guiding the little cleaning bot's path ] Here, c'mere- [ aaaand the feed cuts ]

Just in case anyone was wondering, I didn't grow a beard and I didn't acquire an alarming amount of sass.

[ That's a good way to start, Ned. ]

Face-alikes are as common as common can get around here, but I'm not one for big jokes. If the beard isn't a reliable tell, let it be his jokes. Here's a joke: Why did the chicken cross the road? [ Wait for it, wait for itttt... ] Not sure, I don't eat chicken.

PSA done, Pie Maker out.

[Michelle is at the gym today. Behind her is a target peppered with paper arrows, clustered in the bull's eye or around it, and she is proudly holding her paper bow.

She sits down in front of her communicator primly with a smile, and her paper bow falls apart into individual sheets that zoom straight up the sleeves of her usual white, black and green dress. One piece of paper remains in her hand, however, and she begins folding this slowly and deliberately in front of the screen.] 

Good day, everyone! For those who don't know me, I'm Michelle Cheung, and I'm part of security. [She pauses from folding to wave cheerily, with a little chuckle.] That means if you're ever lost, or you need someone to protect you, or just someone to talk to about the strange things that have been happening around here, you can call me, or any of the other members. Or, if you need a big sister, I'll be your big sister!

[Michelle does not realize how out of place it is to suddenly offer being a big sister as a member of SEC, and even looks excited at the prospect of sister-ing others on the ship. And she'll just continue to fold.]

Now, as some of you might have noticed, paper is in very short supply here. [Duh, Michelle.] I use paper to fight and do my job, so it's very difficult to conserve the paper I already have. So I've been thinking about learning how to use other weapons - real weapons. Perhaps I could start with a real bow, or a gun, but I'll try anything. If anyone has a spare gun or anything they can lend me, or spare time to teach me how to use other weapons, I would appreciate it.

Thank you very much! [A short bow, as she ends the transmission. But it's not quite finished yet. What's finished is the paper crane in her lap, fully formed.]

[Filtered to SEC]

I'd like to practice and train with each and every one of you. Not all at once, but I'm sure you know what I mean. I think it would be very useful to learn how to work with everyone in the department.

[ normally, this kind of thing starts with jenna scattered, or looking slightly surprised that recording is actually happening. none of that, for once; instead she's sitting in one of the therapy rooms, behind a desk with her comm propped up enough to see a truly righteous amount of brightly colored pillows behind her. she's calm, cool, collected and super prepared, there may be notes involved.

she has a handout, y'all. ]

I have a speech I put together so I'm just going to launch into it, and I'll do the social skill stuff after, honest. [ a deep breath. ] Okay, so. Between earlier in the month with Tony, and-- other conversations, I've realized that there might be more confusion about what therapy is and what it can do for people than I had thought. So! Consider this one woman's very, very biased take on it.

Therapy is, in an overly simplified hippie way, trying to help people heal their brains and their hearts. Not the actual organs-- thoughts and feelings. It's working through problems that keep you from living your life as well as possible.

There are a lot of fields and specialties but I'm going to talk about my preferences and style, since-- I'm kind of it, right now, when it comes to the traditional discipline side of things.

[ looking down again, at an out of frame notebook, jenna takes a breath. ]

The first thing I want to say is I'm not stuck on sitting in chairs and talking about your childhood. If you want to take a pillow and beat the wall and then talk about music? It's your session, go ahead. That doesn't mean we can do whatever you want, but it does mean I understand that opening up to a total stranger is hard and admittedly sucks and most of you don't know me well enough to just assume you can trust me. That's okay-- it's smart, actually. And if you'd like to start seeing me, we can work on building that trust, but I don't expect it to just magically appear because I say I'll do my best to help you.

Uh-- right, second point. I can go over this more in detail one on one, but I'm not a licensed therapist, I'm a grad student. A grad student would be like... a master apprentice? Almost to being a master maker of whatevers myself, but just a year or two shy. Anyway, that makes what I'm doing illegal, back home-- not to mention a million kinds of unethical and more than a little gross. Believe me, I know, and I didn't really set out to declare myself Space Therapist. If me not being licensed makes you uncomfortable I completely understand and respect a desire to hold out for someone who isn't still midway through their thesis, but it was pointed out that until then I should offer for people who don't mind.

...and a quick third: at home, I'd never see clients in a social situation. No one would know about my life, my problems or bad habits, anything like that. But this isn't home and you may see me at the bar, so if that would make you uncomfortable I also understand, but we make do with what we have up here.

[ she clears her throat and taps a few keys. ]

Here, I put together an informal quick list about what therapy is and isn't.

( ic post attachment )

...I think that's about it for the official side.

[ and with that the attempt at Serious Posture and Mature Gravity fades back into something more naturally jenna. ]

Now I get to be normal life Jenna, not therapist Jenna. [ offering a wave. ] Hey, new people-- I'm Jenna, if you missed Tony's last scientific doom post. I mentioned it there too, but again: if you don't mind being expected to lend a hand helping in some way or another, dinners happen nightly on the kitchen nearer to the lower numbered rooms, floor one. It's not exciting food, but I can promise it won't completely suck and there will be enough for anyone. Anyone who wants something fancy can... make it for themselves, pretty much.

...does anyone do haircuts, on a completely different end note? We can talk trading if you want, I just need a trim. [ her mouth twitches, mischievously. SUP CHAPEL. ] And a friend told me it's good to make sure people know how to cut hair to the right length before you ask for the haircut in the first place.


( locked to damon salvatore » 100% )