While he may have been stranded on a tropical island in some sort of pocket dimension, Arnold Rimmer certainly couldn't complain about the weather. It was almost always bright and sunny, and for someone who had spent most of his recent existence stuck on a spaceship out in the depths of space it was a welcome change
( ... )
Margot half-turned, gaze flicking once over the man. She didn't recognize him. That made sense - she didn't recognize the beach, either.
She was fairly certain that if this was a figment of her imagination, there would have been something familiar about it, but there wasn't. She took a long drag of her cigarette and let the smoke out slowly, through her nostrils, dark eyelashes shuttering just once before she gave the man her undivided attention.
She fixed him with her most unsettling stare and said, "I guess I didn't come prepared."
He wasn't standing very close to her to begin with, but the combination of her unnerving eyes and exhalation of smoke made Arnold unconsciously back up a step. He told himself it was because he detested smoking but couldn't completely dismiss the effect of her expression either. It was vaguely reminiscent of a GELF looking for a snack. That didn't stop him from putting on a brave front though.
"No, you didn't, did you?" His condescending tone sounded a little forced but still carried the weight of his disdain. "Most people have the good sense to wear lighter clothing for a stroll along the beach. I can't believe you left the Compound wearing a fur coat!"
It then occurred to Arnold that he'd at least glimpsed most of the people living in the Compound but didn't recognize the woman in front of him.
"Wait a minute..." he said slowly. "You're new here aren't you?"
Compound? The man wasn't making any sense. Margot was about to point this out, when finally something he was saying seemed to offer an avenue of logic.
"That depends," Margot said slowly, removing the cigarette from her lips with two fingers and letting it dangle by her side. "On what you mean by 'new' and 'here'."
Gideon had been heading over back to his hut. The fact he noticed someone that looked familiar wasn't all that big a fucking deal - he saw plenty of people with the faces of movie stars walking around every day. It was what she was smoking that made him pause.
"That a real cigarette?" he asked, raising a brow at who he expected was not actually Gwyneth Paltrow. He was so used to the smell of the smoke from the shitty kind that could be made on the island that it was hard to miss.
What a strange question. "I didn't ask," Margot said simply. She took a drag to illustrate her point and blew a smoke ring at the new face. Another one she didn't recognize. She was sensing a trend here.
Closer now, he could definitely see that shit wasn't from the island. It was enough to make him ignore her kind of being a bitch for the moment.
"New, right?" he guessed, eying her up and down for a moment. "Or are you really fucking good at rationing? You're not going to find decent ones like that around here once you run out, if you're wondering. Just a bunch of handmade shit."
He figured he'd be nice and let the chick know something he hadn't been told in the beginning. He sure as hell wished he'd saved his supply for a while.
Margot's expression changed subtly, in that her frown became slightly more pronounced.
She definitely hadn't come prepared. To be fair, she hadn't known that she would be walking off the bridge and onto a beach on an island without a tobacconist.
Habits, bad or otherwise, were not things that Charlotte Charles was in the habit of judging. Having grown up in a household where her main guiding figures were decidedly against certain good things like natural light and fresh air and for bad things like cholesterol laden foods and alcohol her perspective was remarkably skewed. Even here.
Dressed brightly she gave the woman a wave. "Hello! How de do!"
Margot felt as if she was being greeted by a Sesame Street character. Nevertheless, her mother had tried to raise her not to be rude, so she offered the brightly-colored woman a nod while she shifted her cigarette to the other corner of her mouth in order to speak.
Charlotte Charles had never seen Sesame Street. If she had, such a comparison would probably not have caused her any sort of offense.
"Aren't you worried about heatstroke?" Perhaps this woman had some sort of internal temperature regulation problem that saved her from things such as fevers.
His pile of sharpened sticks were running low. He had used them to hunt various animals that scurried past his hut and now, there were only a few that were still usable. The others were bloodstained. Or broken, from the larger game Walter managed to score.
The best place to sharpen the sticks was on the beach. Walter found he could easily find rocks there and the threat of a muscled, obviously unfriendly man sharpening thick sticks on beached-rocks proved to be threatening enough for people to avoid conversation with him. And this is how Walter liked it. Talking was to be on his terms.
He watched the woman for a moment. After she had lit the cigarette, Walter spoke.
Turning with her hands in the pockets of said coat, Margot eyed the man appraisingly. He appeared to be playing with sticks. She could think of several reasons why and none of them were nice. She was probably wrong, though.
She hadn't been here more than five minutes. She still didn't have a clue what was going on.
Walter blinked, still looking at her. He let the silence hang in the air like before returning to his sticks. He ran the flat wooden edge over the rock. In a short time it'd be sharpened.
Still looking at the work before him and not pausing to so much as glance up at the woman, Walter let out a brief, gruff snort.
One of the things that became easier after a good deal of time spent on the island was spotting someone who had just arrived. Of course, it wasn't incredibly difficult when there was someone standing on the beach wearing a fur coat and smoking what appeared to be a real cigarette.
Figuring there really wasn't anything else to do, Mikal headed in the woman's direction, having been on her way back to her hut after spending some time out on the beach. "You're new, aren't you?" she asked bluntly, a small, but friendly smile on her face. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to be the one to give the whole explanation.
"You could say that," Margot replied, her expression wreathed in smoke. Some of the hair at the back of her neck was sticking to her skin with sweat, but still she hadn't removed the coat. Impractical, probably, and risking heatstroke, but Margot didn't care. She was still taking everything in, even if she didn't appear to be.
She took the cigarette from between her lips and tapped some ash onto the sand, mixing it in with the toe of her shoe.
"You seem to be taking it pretty well," Mikal noted wryly, head tilting slightly to the side. She hadn't freaked out too much either, but then, she had been found by the person she was supposed to be with at the time anyway. Grinning, she held out a hand. "I'm Mikal."
"Nobody's told me how I'm supposed to be taking it," Margot said. She looked at the woman's hand for a moment before extending hers - her free one, the one with the wooden finger - and shaking it.
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She was fairly certain that if this was a figment of her imagination, there would have been something familiar about it, but there wasn't. She took a long drag of her cigarette and let the smoke out slowly, through her nostrils, dark eyelashes shuttering just once before she gave the man her undivided attention.
She fixed him with her most unsettling stare and said, "I guess I didn't come prepared."
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"No, you didn't, did you?" His condescending tone sounded a little forced but still carried the weight of his disdain. "Most people have the good sense to wear lighter clothing for a stroll along the beach. I can't believe you left the Compound wearing a fur coat!"
It then occurred to Arnold that he'd at least glimpsed most of the people living in the Compound but didn't recognize the woman in front of him.
"Wait a minute..." he said slowly. "You're new here aren't you?"
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"That depends," Margot said slowly, removing the cigarette from her lips with two fingers and letting it dangle by her side. "On what you mean by 'new' and 'here'."
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"That a real cigarette?" he asked, raising a brow at who he expected was not actually Gwyneth Paltrow. He was so used to the smell of the smoke from the shitty kind that could be made on the island that it was hard to miss.
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It wasn't necessarily a bad one.
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"New, right?" he guessed, eying her up and down for a moment. "Or are you really fucking good at rationing? You're not going to find decent ones like that around here once you run out, if you're wondering. Just a bunch of handmade shit."
He figured he'd be nice and let the chick know something he hadn't been told in the beginning. He sure as hell wished he'd saved his supply for a while.
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She definitely hadn't come prepared. To be fair, she hadn't known that she would be walking off the bridge and onto a beach on an island without a tobacconist.
"That's a shame."
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Dressed brightly she gave the woman a wave. "Hello! How de do!"
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"Hello," she said.
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"Aren't you worried about heatstroke?" Perhaps this woman had some sort of internal temperature regulation problem that saved her from things such as fevers.
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"Why would I be?"
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The best place to sharpen the sticks was on the beach. Walter found he could easily find rocks there and the threat of a muscled, obviously unfriendly man sharpening thick sticks on beached-rocks proved to be threatening enough for people to avoid conversation with him. And this is how Walter liked it. Talking was to be on his terms.
He watched the woman for a moment. After she had lit the cigarette, Walter spoke.
"You're wearing a coat."
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She hadn't been here more than five minutes. She still didn't have a clue what was going on.
"I know," she replied.
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Still looking at the work before him and not pausing to so much as glance up at the woman, Walter let out a brief, gruff snort.
"Sun's shining. Don't need a coat."
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Neither her tone of voice nor her expression gave any hint as to how she felt about that. If she felt anything at all.
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Figuring there really wasn't anything else to do, Mikal headed in the woman's direction, having been on her way back to her hut after spending some time out on the beach. "You're new, aren't you?" she asked bluntly, a small, but friendly smile on her face. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to be the one to give the whole explanation.
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She took the cigarette from between her lips and tapped some ash onto the sand, mixing it in with the toe of her shoe.
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"Margot," she said.
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