.026 [Text]

[thebestnose]

I've noticed the Admiral likes to celebrate holidays. But what does that actually mean for you? We might as well talk about something other than the fact that this place is turning brown and there are ghosts or pookas or whatever you want to call them. At least the colour garden hasn't wilted

Comments

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[metallonkardia]

I can't remember the last time I celebrated a 'real' holiday, to be honest.

I understand Morse.

text | private

[metallonkardia]

John Connor. When do you want to meet?

text | private

[thebestnose]

When is good for you, Mister Connor? I have a free schedule.

text | private

[metallonkardia]

Might as well get on this shit presently. Common room on your level?

text | private - spam/log/assume?

[thebestnose]

I'll see you there.

text | private - spam for justice?

[metallonkardia]

[ ! ]

[spam] - for GREAT justice

[thebestnose]

[Jane waited in the common room, pacing between the door and the television, alert. She didn't like the idea that things could simply spring up out of nowhere. And she didn't like meeting new people. Naturally suspicious, she kept looking towards the door.]

[spam]

[metallonkardia]

[ John is there in short order, outfitted as if he's going on a field mission - but fuck, with everything going on, he might as well be. When he approaches the door, he looks vaguely annoyed (... and like he got snowed on a little), but otherwise calm and alert. ]

You Brunswick?

[spam]

[thebestnose]

Mister Conner. [It wasn't a question. She walked up and politely held out a hand. She felt a whole lot younger than twenty at that moment, but mostly because She had no idea what to make of all this. She was used to working alone.

Raising a brow as she approached, she eyed the state of his clothes.] Snow?

[spam]

[metallonkardia]

[ A nod and he shakes her hand, gloved grip firm. He looks severe, but not unkind. At her inquiry, his face twists into a wry expression and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. ]

That CES thing is fucked. [ Hell if he knows, man. ] Have the power fluctuations been bad down here?

[spam]

[thebestnose]

[She glanced back behind him and then up to his face.] No. Well, not recently. It did at first for me. But that's the problem with this shit. It's not the same for everyone.

[spam]

[metallonkardia]

Fucking headache. [ He sounds more wry than genuinely annoyed. Anyway - he's got a couple walkie-talkies (MBITR, for the curious) clipped to his belt, and he unhooks one and offers it to Jane. ] Familiar at all?

[spam]

[thebestnose]

[She took it, holding it awkwardly and then looked up to him.] Not at all. Not a lot is.

[spam]

[metallonkardia]

It's a handheld transceiver - hand radio, or a walkie-talkie. [ And he'll show her how to turn it on and off and fuck with the volume as he talks. ] They're simple communication devices that let you talk to people who have them, pending various degrees of atmospheric interference. I have no idea if what's screwing up the barge devices will do the same to these, but they have a code key - [ he presses it, showing her, and it makes a slight noise that echoes in the one she's holding ] - for sending Morse.

[spam]

[thebestnose]

[She was an attentive study, looking to each button as it was pressed or explained.] That's effective. But you can't really trust it.

[spam]

[metallonkardia]

Not really. [ Facts is facts. ] If it comes in handy, great. If not, we've still got yelling.