[18.00]

[psychoticracer]

Hmmm.

If anyone finds some red Krimzon Guard armor and a racing mask with red lenses, they're mine.

Everything else I can replace.

{ooc: Feel free to volunteer to find Erol's stuff! But uh, you might want to give it back. Quickly.}

Comments

[Text]

[chorusangel]

I think I found something. A pair of red shoulder plates with white markings on?

Is that your alphabet?

[psychoticracer]

Ah. Those would be mine all right. I’ll come get them; are you in your room?

Yes it is. It’s based on old Precursor script.

[C’mon, ask what it says, c’mon c’mon c’mooon....]

[Text]

[chorusangel]

Yes, I am.

What do they say?

[psychoticracer]

[Yesss.]

It says "Commander." The chestpiece has a sigil on the front; it's the crest of the ruling family I served in Haven.

I'll come get them.

[Knock knock!]

[chorusangel]

[Still in a state of slight undress - putting on her dress without the corset felt wrong, somehow - Christine smiles at Erol as the door opens. THe shoulderplates are in her hand.]

Hello.

[psychoticracer]

[Erol nods. He's not wearing his normal ensemble, obviously, but he'd scavenged some casual clothes from Deck 12 before all hell broke loose and was never more thankful for his foresight. The colors are less striking than his usual outfit, but he's stuck to blues and yellows for the most part]

I'm glad you found them. I've had some threats from people who want to destroy my belongings if they find them.

[chorusangel]

[Christine can't help but feel indecent in her current state with Erol fully dressed, but there's nothing for it now. She looks at him with a slightly disbelieving and compassionate expression.]

Why? There no call for that. I talk to them?

[If he says yes, she's prepared to send out a message on her communicator - or even talk to the people who said that herself.]

[psychoticracer]

[Dear Mar, she looked nice. Did she not have any back-up clothing? Perhaps he should... help her get some.]

Well. Can't say I haven't done anything to warrant their animosity. People will hurt me however they can, and if they can't get to me, they'll hurt something that's... important to me.

[Falters slightly at the last, as if realizing that Christine now qualified. Let's see if she picks up on that]

I don't - need protection. I just hope the last piece turns up undamaged... well. As undamaged as the creature left it.

[It DID have a chunk taken out of it at the ribcage side...]

[chorusangel]

[She shouldn't get her hopes up. He's talking about the armour, not her... right? Christine pauses, wondering. He did falter, but... No, just... no. By God, she's engaged, and it still means something here in this strange place. These feelings are sinful, but she cannot completely repress them.]

Cruel of them. It so childish to do that.

[Would there be anything sinful about inviting Erol to stay for a while?]

[psychoticracer]

[Shrug.]

I suppose so. No rules of fair play on this boat, only what you can get away with.

[Never mind that HE had no sense of fair play whatsoever]

[chorusangel]

[That doesn't make it right, though, and she wants to say as much, but instead simply takes a step back, opening up the doorway.]

You have things to do, or...?

[psychoticracer]

[Oh yes.]

Make that "Or." I'm bored out of my skull around here.

[Slips inside]

[chorusangel]

[A smile, and she goes to sit down on the sofa. Her hands hovers next to Erol's for a moment as she passes him, but she stops at the last moment, and a barely-there sigh escapes from her. Why is this all so confusing and difficult? She needs a conversation topic that's fairly neutral...]

You arm... can it be fixed?

[psychoticracer]

[He feels her temptation, the way she leans towards him as though magnetically drawn. He barely needed to encourage her... and by the time he finally let her have it she'd be gagging for it]

Yes. The doctor's cloning a new one; though, even were I back home, I could get a mechanical one grafted on. The Baron had several replacements of that type.

[chorusangel]

Oh.

[In a flash, she remembers Erol's lips on her fingers, her own tracing his back...]

Flesh is better.

[psychoticracer]

I must agree. I could deal with the alternative, but I'm glad I don't have to.

[rubs his abbreviated right arm absently]

The - awkwardness of only having one hand to do anything with is bad enough, although temporary, but... not to touch anything ever again with my right hand? Hnmf.

[Of course, he would deal, as he always dealt with anything in his path. Wouldn't bother him anywhere near as much as he was making out to have a metal arm instead of flesh. But he read her reactions and tailored his own]