[ HEY NETWORK long time no chat. have a mike ross in his room wearing jeans and t-shirt, barefoot and looking like he hasn't eaten properly in a month (which he hasn't) nor shaved or combed his hair in a month (which he also hasn't). his back is to the door of his room as he props up the communicator on his dresser and takes a step back, giving the communicator enough of a vantage point to show him from head to toe. when he deems the communicator secure enough, he smiles. ]

Hey! [ nervous energy kicking in: now ] Uh, hi. Small request.

[ and then he reaches off camera to hold up a suit ]

Anyone willing to trade a bag of funyuns for this thing? Or doritos. Or... cheetos, I guess? Basically anything in the chip family, really. I'm not picky.

[ he frowns for a moment before tossing the suit to the side again and moving to approach the commmunicator. and suddenly!!! the door opens behind him showing one (x1) donna paulsen in the doorway. donna looks as well put-together as always, but with her hands on her hips, she's definitely a formidable force. which means mike, of course, jumps in surprise. ]

Holy fucking--

Mike Ross, are you addressing the network while looking like a space hobo?

There is no such thing as a space hobo, okay.

And yet here you are.

[ so mike sighs! ] Okay, fine. Fine! [ and then, reaches for the communicator, addressing it. ] And I guess I could also use a haircut too or whatever.

[ a shrug and boom, end feed. ]

(( mike is in blue, donna in orange ))

[The feed clicks on to show a very well-dressed man eyeing the device with a hint of mistrust - almost as if he has perfectly well worked out how to use it, but would still rather not. It's an expression that's only there for a moment before it smooths out, replaced instead by a polite, friendly smile as he begins speaking.]

I'll spare everyone the repeated demands of how it is we're here and why no one has succeeded in changing the situation. I think I've been here quite long enough to skip over that apparently necessary initial introduction, and I'm certain the more long-standing residents of this vessel are tired of enlightening that particular strain of ignorance. And while I will throw my voice in with the chorus of those that would prefer not to be here, my question - and offer - is more what can be done to help.

[His gaze travels away from the camera, but it isn't with an air of uncertainty. More the look of a man who isn't used to being pinned in one place - or having to hold a camera - as he talks.]

I've taken the time to read over the information offered, but found the matter of how some of it was acquired notably... absent. [A tilt of his head, a more wry smile on his mouth.] I've an interest in the details. The devil's often in them, as they say. And perhaps a fresh set of eyes might discover some previously unnoticed potential, given the opportunity.

Of course, if anyone else would like to take this chance to fill in any gaps in our so-called F.A.Q. [A loose gesture of his hand.] My ears are open.

Uh, this is Stormtrooper ... zero, fifty, zero, omega (that works, he supposes) we have a situation here, requesting backup. We have a wookie on the loose, I repeat, we have a wookie on the loose. Warning, warning, warning, warning he's loose in sectors four, five and seven. Probably.

Possibly.

We aren't sure, but that's why I'm requesting backup because how am I supposed to scout this entire facility for him?

(there's the sound of a laser shooting something) Also, cancel that reactor leak. I think I fixed it. Uhm, you never answered how you were doing?

[ 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! ]

How can people be so idle when there is so much at stake at your inaction?

[It's quiet. The past jump has not been kind to Marius. In fact, he sounds positively unsettled, almost as if he needs to just go to sleep and not talk to the public at large, but he needs to do something and this is the only way he can make his heart less heavy.]

We are slaves here to the whim of individuals we cannot even see, to those we cannot even meet, and -- I cannot keep quiet about it any longer.

[He draws in a breath.]

I know there will be much discussion about why we are here and whether or not we can escape -- and I am interested in hearing all of that, but what I am more interested in is opinion. I want to hear what people feel about being here, be it anger or apathy, rather than the facts of our situation, for nothing has ever been changed with cruel numbers and statistics so much as heart.

[And he stills for a long moment before Marius shuts off the feed -- and, maybe twenty minutes later, he sends out a text.]

[Filtered Away from Enjolras]

What can be done about nightmares?

oh, wow.
let's face it: this is all sorts of crazy.
but like the sci-fi kind of crazy, which is a cool and dangerous kind of crazy!
although if you tried telling that to your therapist or rose, they'd probably argue that lunacy is lunacy, no matter what.
which brings me to my next point...
am i crazy?
did you ever think that maybe the reason that goo is blue is because it's the color of your destroyed dreams??
the kind of goo that seeps into your ears and totally brainwashes you????????
WAIT.
what if i am figuring all this out way ahead of schedule.
i've been scratching the tattoo a whole lot, too.
i didn't mean to, i swear. i was just itchy!
the effects are wearing off, i repeat, the effects are wearing off!
HOLY SHIT.
i just heard a highly suspicious noise.
...they're right behind me, aren't they.

[ 5 seconds later: ]

TELL DAVE SPRITE I REALLY WANT TO PUNCH HIM!

[ the feed pops on to mike, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding the communicator in his hand. he looks a bit tired but, really, why wouldn't he? still, there's a bit of strain around his eyes like he's trying to not look as bad as he feels.

instead he opts for speaking, getting right to the point. ]

So, hey, Tranquility. Does anyone know where I can get a box? I mean, I have all this stuff and just nowhere to put it and--

[ he takes a moment to frown off to the side before looking back at the communicator again. ]

It's kind of bullshit, actually, being stuck with a bunch of crap when someone leaves. I don't have any use for it, y'know? Why do I have to keep it? Like, who the fuck needs two pairs of sunglasses in a spaceship?! A spaceship!

[ and he glares a little off to the side again before going kind of quiet, deflating slightly and continuing a moment later. ]

... But, well, I guess, we don't actually know what happens when people leave, do we? We just... assume they go home, right? Except--

[ he looks a bit panicked for a moment, looking off to the side again before shaking his head and just murmuring a "nevermind". ha ha, yep, harvey specter has left the tranquility and mike's... dealing better than expected, honestly! ]

... Also, I have a vacuum now.

[ he just pans over to the other side (not the one he was looking at) to this sitting on the floor, then back to himself. ]

Dunno why.

[ and then he hangs up. thanks, tq. ]

Sup, Tranquility.

Handsome Jack here. Just arrived, what, like a month ago? Yeah. So. I think we got to talk.

You know. Get everything real nice an out in the open. Not a huge fan about airing out dirty laundry, but it's best to put this out there now rather than have to explain myself later. There's two people out there that tried to murder me when I got here, and I figure they'll keep trying for as long as I'm here... You might be friends with my buddies- and I say this sarcastically-Lilith and Mordecai, and they might say some things about me. Why not hear it from the horse's mouth?

I got nothing to hide. It's story time, kiddos. Gather 'round.

( Story time. Enjoy this manipulative son of a bitch. )

[ no one has ever looked more irritated to be on camera than derek looks right now. there's a beat, and then derek gestures to his beard, which has progressed past stubble and into full on beard territory. ]

I need a new razor.

[ there's a pause. he doesn't actually have anything to trade, which is a problem. there's maybe a minute of dead air and then derek just shakes his head and shuts the feed down. ]

[ 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% )

[ The comms turn on and Rachel's face can be seen. She looks calm, confident and put together. Even though, on the inside, she might be anything but. ]

Hi.

[ Rachel doesn't ask for help often - or, at all. So, she's not quite sure how to go about this. ]

I have a few [ how shall she put this ] questions. I'm new and I'm used to being the one who knows everything. [ except how to be modest ] I'm a paralegal [ because she refuses to use past tense ] and I know the ins and outs of the firm I work for. The associates, other paralegals - they all came to me for help. Granted, I've worked there for five years. [ As their best paralegal ever, but the network doesn't... need to know that. There's such thing as some modesty. ] For the first time in a long time I find myself with more questions then answers.

Hopefully, that's where you come in. If you wouldn't mind taking some time to answer a few questions?

First, I haven't been that impressed with the food here. It might be that I'm eating the wrong thing. And I haven't made it down to the oxygen gardens yet. Are their any chefs on board? Or, is there anyone familiar with food? [ a smile. ] Good food?

( neal caffrey )

public ]

Second. Is there a way to transfer information from the datapads in the library onto my phone? I've been doing a lot of reading but I've been stuck in the library. There's nothing wrong with it, it's actually quite remarkable but... I'd like the option of reading somewhere else. Maybe the common room or my room.

Third. Things... happened a few days ago. Is there anything I shouldn't be doing? I got the basic rundown from several people my first week here. You can never be too safe, right?

Four. And it's less of a question and more of an apology... For those of you who know Mike Ross, I'm sorry. He's - well, you get used to him. So, if he's done anything to you or said anything to you [ or generally been himself at all ] just, please accept this blanket apology.

[ because she may have spent some time looking up conversations between Mike and people and wow, Mike, you fail at being a human being but why would that be different then in space? and maybe this is sort of flirty and needly - she may not be divulging voice mail details but she's only human. mike ross pushes her buttons. so she's pushing his ]

Okay. I think that's it. Oh, my name is Rachel, for those who haven't met me.

( previous cr )

( donna paulsen )

[she's small, and she's weak, and she couldn't have done anything to help the dead people even if she knew them. she can't join a security patrol or go scouting or make a helpful PSA to the network; pretty much all Hana can do is stay out of the way, hide in her room, stick her communicator under her mattress, and use the other bed to barricade the door. and she does exactly that for a good six hours! but after that, when sleep fails her and her thoughts are her only real company, after she's fished out her comm again and looked at all the things people are saying, she knows she also can't just sit by and do nothing.

when people are consumed by grief, they often forget to consume anything else -- she remembers what happened with Michiko in San Paraiso -- and even though she doesn't really know any of these people like she knew Michiko, that's not right. she can't help them or comfort them, but she can at least do one thing for the rest of the people on the Tranquility, while it really hurts. she can cook her feelings, and she can feed and nourish the everliving shit out of them.

and all of that unnecessary smalltext buildup explains how, around a day later, she ends up making a PSA anyway! Hana figures that if she does voice or video, there will always be that one person who chooses to focus on her age; instead of doing the sane thing and taking 30 seconds to make this post she hunt-and-pecks her way through a torturous 10-minute text message, then spends an additional five minutes scrutinizing it for spelling and grammar errors in the erroneous belief that this will make her appear more mature.]

Attention please! I want to say something.

Everyone keeps saying "it's dangerous, it's dangerous" and talking about what to do but you can't just do that alone.If you forget to eat something you won't be strong for all the things you keep talking about. So even if it's so dangerous you still need to eat, because if you do not take care of yourself that's also dangerous! Since you are busy [and grieving, and scared, and angry] and probably do not have time to think about all of it I cooked for you. There is lot and it is in the kitchen on floor 14. Anyone can come and eat. Even if you're not busy you should come, that is ok too. Because this is important and nobody else should get hurt.

If you are doing to much to come someone else can bring you the food. Or I can do it. If you can't eat it I can make another thing for you. I will take recipe's too. Thank you very much.

[It's a rare video post from Edgeworth. He looks tired, but he seems less depressed than he did a few hours ago; he's focusing on his anger to carry him through.]

Security has a certain amount of the ship secured. These areas are the ones we patrol, the ones you're all accustomed to: the passenger quarters, the oxygen gardens, the medical bay, et cetera. The areas in which you reside. If you stay within those boundaries, we try to keep you safe to the fullest of our abilities; though our manpower is limited, we will do what we can.

If you stray, then we can do nothing. As I said, our manpower is limited, and beyond where we have secured, it is essentially enemy territory. So all of you, no matter how impressed you are with your survival skills and abilities, needs to treat it like enemy territory. It isn't a place to have a walk. It isn't a place to go out and search for monsters so that you can get your fun cracking a few heads. It isn't a research lab. It is a place fraught with danger, and if you go out there, you run the risk of death.

So if you go out, then you will treat it like it is enemy territory. You will not go out alone. You will not go out unarmed. You will not go out without notifying security. If you fail to do any of these things, then you should damn well compose your suicide note to your friends on-board, because you're very likely going to die. And while security isn't ever going to leave anyone to die, you can't treat this ship like an amusement park and expect to live to see the next jump.

[And he glares at the camera a moment longer - and then he glances off to the side, his lips relaxing very slightly.]

Condolences. To those who knew them.

Good afternoon, unwilling citizens of the Tranquility. Ianto Jones here. As it turns out, the ship has seen fit to gift me with all the necessary materials for making professional signage. As a General Support officer, I figured I might as well branch further into public service and put these materials to use.

[He pans his communicator around to show a neat-looking sign he's set up in the Oxygen Gardens. Myfanwy is in the background, perched on the branch of a large tree and tilting her head inquisitively.]

Anyone who feels the need for any official signage is welcome to ask. Anyone who feels the need for less official signage is also welcome to ask, but as it's for personal and not public use, I'll be taking advantage of the bartering system and asking for something in return. I would have made this offer sooner, but I seem to have been out of commission for a month. Sorry about that.

[Locked to Hayley Stark; encrypted 100%]
As if embarrassing myself in front of Obi-Wan Kenobi weren't enough, I've now made the world's most humiliating first impression on James Bond, and Anakin Skywalker just showed up with R2D2. Please save me from myself and come have more drinks with me. I'm trying to rope Jenna in too, so feel free to bring a friend.

[Locked to Ariadne; encrypted 100%]
I haven't seen you about yet. How are you?

[Locked to Jenna; encrypted 100%]
I know we need to talk business, but I don't feel like it at the moment. Come have drinks with me and let me tell you about my most recent humiliation.

[Locked to Tony Stark; encrypted 100%]
How's the eye socket? Have you gotten a cool eyepatch and started hiding things in there? Or are you going for something more bionic?

[Cambitas encryption; locked to Cambitas members]
We have a new recruit. Thought I should let you lot know.

Tranquility.

[ Lucrezia Borgia's hair is braided and her silks are pink as her cheeks. ]

The fireflies had returned to us. To them and to those who had been asleep, Ben Tornati! as you all have been so direly missed. I would hear that you are well from your lips or through the firefly.

To all others, I offer a trade.

I would hear of your name. I heard so many names since my arrival here and yet I never asked for their meaning in your respective languages. I would listen and tell you of my own, if you care to hear it.

[ but then she seems a bit bothered by something, as if she had realized something is missing. ]

I have no words of poetry to offer today, what a shame.

[ give her a moment before she'll smile and, lifting her chin with mischief in her eyes, speak the next words in Latin before shutting down her firefly. ]

quae bello est habilis, Veneri quoque convenit aetas.

( The age which is apt for war, is also suitable for Love. )