Welcome to the Illyria!

[statusreport]

Stardate 58561.8: Day One

Now that you've all got your room assignments and communicators, it's time to explore this ship. Please check out the deck plans to figure out where you're going. You can read about some of the existing crew members you might run into here.

Even those of you who may feel right at home on a spaceship will find that the Illyria is definitely a bit... different. Mostly because she's kind of a wreck right now. Whatever it was that threw the ship all the way out here to wherever we are, it really did a number on the ship itself. There's a lot of damaged areas, and several of the ship's systems have been compromised. You'll find that the replicators don't always work right (I asked for hasperat and I got pok tar!?), the turbolifts are unusually persnickety (I said bridge, not engineering!), and the environmental controls in your quarters may not do as they're told (why is it snowing in Room 4J?). Several corridors are blocked by debris, and more often than not the lights are flickering if they're on at all.

So what will you do? Help clean up the mess in the hallways? Try some bizarre alien food in the mess hall? Try and infiltrate restricted areas to get a peek at the ship's systems? Feel free to make your own top level comment, and treat this as a big mingle. Get to know your new crewmates, explore your new home, make friends or enemies, and whatever you do, don't try the gagh. If you need the captain or the first officer, please let a mod know, but try and stick to threading with your fellow new recruits!


(Don't worry about the entry tags for the moment, they will be added shortly. Before we throw ourselves into missions on alien planets, we wanted everyone to have a chance to get to know one another, so please use this opening log as an opportunity to kick off some CR with crewmates and bunk buddies, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask a mod!)

Comments

[farmboyjedi]

Luke walked through the halls of the ship, trying to get used to it. He was still a little out of sorts, his mind filled with a lot of questions that weren't necessarily easy to get answers to. He could still feel the Force, fortunately, and kept in close communication with it as he explored the vessel.

It looked as though it had once been state of the art, although the technology wasn't readily recognizable to him. Now, however, it reminded him a little of the Millenium Falcon-run down and with a lot of broken parts. He just hoped that all the necessary parts kept working to keep them all alive.

He kept alert for any of his fellow passengers-he might as well get to know them if they were going to be here a while. He already knew that no one from his family was here. He couldn't sense their presence. He did still feel his Force bond with Mara, and sometimes tried to send anything he could to her through their connection in hopes she would feel it, but he knew she was far away from here.

Luke kept an eye out for any of the ship's officers as well. He wasn't his father in terms of mechanical ability, that was certain-but he could still help to a fair degree. He could use a combination of the Force and his own innate skill to learn what he could and try to help with repairs if they wanted him to.

[nevermindtherunning]

Luke was moving around very cautiously through the corridors, and he wasn't the only one. The Doctor was equally confused and cautious as he did the same before ending in the same hallway as the other man.

"Hello there!" The Doctor greeted before wondering if he had startled the other man. Luke certainly appeared lost in thought, which hadn't surprised the Doctor as he too was in search of some answers.

"Mm, don't go that way," He commented pointing just behind him, "seems to be a bit of a dead end." He tried to remove some debris, but there was more than he could handle on his own right now.

Disaché | OC | OTA

[spoiledegg]

Near Sickbay

"-That's my property! You can't just steal it, I-" Disaché is ushered out into the hallway by the firm hand of Lieutenant Commander H'litaj Tis, and as soon as they clear the doorway, the door swishes shut behind them, cutting off any more scathing words he might have for the medical officer who decided she could simply confiscate his research materials.

"This is absurd!" he shouts, his mane fluffing progressively further out of order with his irritation. He jerks away from the grip on his shoulder - or tries to, ow, ow. Okay, so maybe some of the fluffing is a threat response. "Don't touch me! I can walk on my own."

The hand on his shoulder lifts, and Lt. Commander Tis continues in her duty to 'show Mister Amenone to his new quarters' (aka 'Get him out of my Sick Bay he's giving me a headache'). It's not a long walk from Sick Bay to room 4E, but it's enough to bump into someone, especially with debris in some of the corridors and the turbolifts misbehaving.


Room 4E

This is supposed to be his room? It's so... small. And sparse. And- wait, are those multiple beds? Stacked on top of each other? Is he supposed to be sharing these tiny quarters?

"This must be a mistake," he says out loud.

Later

Disaché sits sulkily at the computer console in his room, belligerently sending complaints to the command staff and demanding personal meetings. He refuses to be treated like- like- like someone unimportant. Never mind that the captain and her officers are probably busy dealing with the fact that the ship's a mess, lost in space, and picking up mysterious passengers.


Observation

On Deck 7, Disaché has finally found something to not complain about. He stares silently out at the startlingly clear view of space. It's not a screen or a projection, but a legitimate window. He reaches out to touch the clear surface, and it feels... a lot like metal.

"Fascinating..."

IA ships don't have windows. The only human vessels he knows of with windows had thick blast shutters to protect them. There was nothing quite like this where he came from, and more than anything else - more than the talk of transporters, or nobody having heard of his species or the Istiff Alliance - this finally drives it home that he's, well, very very far from home.

Not that he really had any place he called home.

Deck 4 hallway buddies

[senkan_yamato]

Yamato...wasn't sure what the heck was up with these quarters. They were far too spacious. This ship was only a little shorter than Mogami, and twice as broad...and Mogami had nearly a thousand crew. How many had been here? Had they hot-bunked? The room was clean and pleasant, and she couldn't detect any odor in the sheets so they must be sticklers for such things. There were TABLES and DESKS wasting deck space and she was starting to wonder if these were officer's quarters or for VIPs.

She knew that comfort was not a priority on Japanese ships but...she had to know if this was normal elsewhere. She walked back into the hall and knocked tentatively on the first door she saw.

ROOMIE

[withimagination]

"What must be?" That voice is probably accented strangely to Disaché and right behind him. Like really close. Sorry, bud.

"Looks like a respectable room to me."

If he turns, Eames will give him a grin. FRIENDS?

[senkan_yamato]

Armory

Yamato had not wasted time after waking up. She had simply wanted to check that her weapons and equipment were intact-they were after all as much a part of her as her arms and her legs. And then, this crew had tried to tell her she wasn't authorized. She had begun to speak to them slowly, patiently.

She was running out of patience, and her words were growing sharper. The hands that clenched her parasol were white-knuckled. Her smile, ever so fine, was just a bit hard around the edges. Maybe she would have more luck if her words didn't sound so insane. "I am a warship of the Japanese Empire. I do not recognize that you have any right to intern me or my equipment, under the Geneva conventions or any other laws of war. Which would not apply because there is no war here." Leave aside the Abyssals-they are hardly a thing you can be at war with. "I am hardly going to fire my guns inside your ship's hull."

Damaged areas

Damage control can help one to work off stress. That's Yamato's working theory anyways. Oddly though, there is no soft-wood wedges to hammer into holes or familiar patches to rivet over larger ones. The only thing Yamato trusts herself to do on this strange ship is to...walk and pick up pieces. Sometimes, she comes to a blockage and shoves the whole thing aside, but sometimes when she does that, her rudder heels punch new holes in the carpet and the floor. And she doesn't have any way to fix that so she just crouches next to the holes and tries vainly to fix them by hand. She's screwing up, she just knows it. Maybe she should ask if there's anything she can usefully do-but the answer would probably be no.

If she thinks nobody is around to watch, now might be a good time for a sniffle or a few tears.

Damage

[got_it_memorized]

Boy had this ship seen better days. Axel hadn't ever been on a spaceship before, but he had to presume they didn't usually look like they were about to come apart at the seams and fling everyone out into the vacuum of space (the threat of which was, incidentally, why he had never been on a spaceship before). This thing was supposed to be pretty state of the art, though, which interested him. Of course, he didn't have access to anything interesting in the computer so far, that he could tell, and he wasn't allowed on the bridge or in engineering, so for the moment, it seemed his hands were a bit tied. He hated being forced to bide his time, but it looked as though he had no choice right now. Rats.

Rounding a corner, his hands in his pockets, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a figure crouched near the floor. She was pawing rather forlornly at a hole in the corridor floor. Curious... Maybe he shouldn't get involved, he thought; she seemed pretty intent on... pawing at the floor. He started to turn to head back in the other direction when he heard her sniffle miserably, and he grimaced.

What the hell? Why did this always happen? He came across someone who was upset or in trouble and something in him just wouldn't let him walk away. It wasn't his heart--he didn't have one!--so what was it? Ugh, this was so bothersome.

Hefting a sigh, Axel turned back to the girl and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hey, ah... you hurt?" he asked haltingly. He really had no luck with white magic, but it couldn't hurt to make the offer.

Hiya, roomie! :)

[condemned_copper]

Indeed, the detective sergeant was in the armoury as well, ostensibly to check that her own weapons were intact and fully operational; however, she too was stymied, and couldn't help but to overhear the little speech given by the rather grand-looking little woman off to her left.

Unamusedly, she walked over and coughed a little to get Yamato's attention. "Little use arguing with it," she stated flatly, sniffing, her clipped accent tighter than usual."Hardly any of these...these things do what you ask of them, anyway. And I believe you may be my bunk mate, in any case. Perhaps we could cajole the actual staff into giving us our stuff back."

[aes_thetic]

Never let it be said that Tony Stark couldn't deal with reality.

Sure, he did it with a highball in his hand, but still. His coping skills were excellent.

So it was absolutely understandable that Tony had suddenly decided to get this particular corridor up and running again, including clearing out debris and trying to rewire a lights panel - using nothing but his bare hands and a lot of very creative cursing. Well...okay. One bare hand, and one hand encased in a form-fitting, articulated metal gauntlet.

"Next time - ow - I decide to drink an entire bottle of Macallan at three in the - fuck - morning, I'm going to strap my ankle to the bed. And build an anti-teleporter. Why didn't I think of that? Simple. Obvious. Shit who wired this ship, Mr. Magoo?"

[nobettycarver]

There was a somewhat familiar cast to the swearing, but Peggy paid it no mind. There was absolutely zero chance that there was anything familiar here in this 'star'ship, millions of kilometres from anything she knew.

Actually, no. There was one familiar thing - pain, and the hard work that came after destruction. Whether the cause of it was war, or whatever all this was, there were still injured people to comfort, and debris to shift, and since the medical bay was filled to bursting and she wasn't a doctor, Peggy was out shifting debris.

She worked her way towards the cursing man, gathering pieces of metal onto a sort of hover-board with a handle - convenient, that - but stopped when she saw the gauntlet. While amazing technology was par for the course, this particular thing was so colourful it stood out.

Well, they were both in the same corridor, might as well make conversation.

"Why do I get the feeling you aren't from around here?"

[notalwaysstrong]

"You sure you should be messin' with that?" A voice comes from behind him, the voice being deep, accented with a tinge of southern US that's really hard to pinpoint where in the US it comes from.

When Tony looks, he'll spot Mack almost instantly, peering around him and into the light panel curiously. He only asks because this guy, clearly, isn't a member of the crew. Not with all the swearing coming out from him.

This Starfleet lot were nothing if not PG-13... At the moment.

[snapturtle]

"The engineers at the Utopia Planitia Shipyards. That's where all Starfleet vessels are built."

The voice coming from a woman with a rushed forehead, standing there with her arms crossed and a frown on her face. She sees your your doing there.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

[spoiledegg]

Disaché pauses in his sullen exploration of the hallways to watch Tony's expletive-filled attempt at repairs. No uniform, garishly oversized prosthetic... Another accidental guest or local janitorial staff?

"Presumably it was the same people who decided to create a vessel without self-repair capabilities. Or even some sort of repair-bots."

Not impressed, Starfleet.

[farmboyjedi]

Luke had been cleaning nearby, glancing up to study the man every now and then. He knew they were roommates and had met Tony briefly, but they hadn't spent a lot of time in the quarters. Luke tried not to think of what might confront them about the facilities. *please just let the fresher work...that's all we'd need* he thought for a second.

He had to admit there were ways this guy reminded him of Han. Cocky, swearing, drinking...if the Corellian ever showed up here, they might just hit it off.

"Yeah, it isn't the best ship I've ever been on, I'll agree there." Luke commented. He kept a friendly expression, hoping to project that he was easy to get along with, if a little guarded in his own way at times. A little Force backing usually went along with it. "I thought my brother-in-laws's ship was a junk pile, but this is even worse. I just hope it doesn't break down as much as the Falcon</> likes to."

[nobettycarver]

Various corridors

Being transported so far in both time and space was so surreal that Peggy still felt at times like she was walking in a dream. It seemed there was absolutely zero chance that there was anything familiar here in this 'star'ship, millions of kilometres from anything she knew.

Actually, no. There was one familiar thing - pain, and the hard work that came after destruction. Whether the cause of it was war, or whatever all this was, there were still injured people to comfort, and debris to shift, and since the medical bay was filled to bursting and she wasn't a doctor, Peggy was out shifting debris.

She worked her way down the corridor, gathering pieces of metal onto a sort of hover-board with a handle - convenient, that. If she ever saw Howard again, she thought she might give him a few ideas.

Room 4H- Closed to Martha Jones

After a long hard day, Peggy wanted nothing more but to go to a room where she felt safe and relax - perhaps take a bath. But there didn't seem to be baths available in this place - only a small room with a bathroom she had no idea how to use and six bunks.

She entered said bathroom cautiously and explored, almost afraid to press any buttons, but eventually she decided that it was unlikely that any of the buttons in the bathroom blew anything up, and pressed something at random.

The resulting blasts of air in the tiny shower cubicle sent her jerking back in shock, letting out a cry of surprise.

[fist_of_hydra]

For the first half hour or so as he explored the ship, Bucky managed to keep to himself. He avoided corridors where others were gathering, stuck to the back halls and damaged areas. He wanted to find every bolt hole and escape route he could so he'd stop feeling so trapped in this maze of a ship.

In the end, though, he couldn't quite make himself ignore the desperate plight of the ship and its people. When he came across a green-skinned woman desperately trying to free herself from beneath a fallen girder, he used his inhuman strength and the metal arm to haul it off her. From there it was a short step to prying open a damaged door that had trapped three of the crew in their quarters.

He kept his head down, his eyes averted, and said very little when spoken to, but he kept working diligently. At least for once he was helping people, not hurting them.

Then he heard something tantalizingly familiar, coming from around the curve of a corridor. A voice. A woman's voice. It teased at the edges of his shattered memories, causing a few new fragments to drift to the surface of his mind.

He knew her. He wasn't sure how yet, or who she was, but he knew her. How could that be possible, in this place? Warily, Bucky crept along the corridor, trying to get a better look without drawing notice.

When he saw her, he got another jolt of memories, and his hand itched for his journal. He'd have to start a new one, as soon as possible. She was familiar. Every time he blinked he kept expecting to see her suddenly wearing an Army uniform. How could he possibly know someone here?

He trailed her for a while, using as much cover as the damaged corridors provided to stay hidden while he observed.

Hello Second World War Buddy, just an Axis ship here.

[senkan_yamato]

The hallway was blocked here, where the ship had buckled up from the deck and down from the ceiling, creating a wall of debris and fallen supports. Two frames had been shifted fractionally closer together and everything in between them had been squished up as a result.

Yamato had examined it for several minutes before deciding what to do...and spurring her crew into action. Tiny welding torches cut through large pieces of debris, as her fairy-sized crew worked away. Other used tiny axes and hammers to clear away less durable things. Many of the power tools were on cables that disappeared into Yamato's own clothes, and she was somewhat thankful for that. Considering how she was powering such things always made her head hurt. Instead she pulled on pieces to pry them loose and neatly stacked them behind her...right up until she turned and saw Peggy, and realized what a bizarre tableau this must be. Tiny figures, some no more than three inches high scurrying over the pile, and a tall Japanese woman with cables and tubes coming out of her clothes (which were not very concealing) overseeing the whole afair? There would be questions.

[notrosesshadow]

Martha had just entered said room and barely looked around before she heard a cry of surprise and came rushing.

"Are you all right?" she asked as she turned the corner and found herself in the bathroom.

[fist_of_hydra]

Various corridors

For the first half hour or so as he explored the ship, Bucky managed to keep to himself. He avoided corridors where others were gathering, stuck to the back halls and damaged areas. He wanted to find every bolt hole and escape route he could so he'd stop feeling so trapped in this maze of a ship.

In the end, though, he couldn't quite make himself ignore the desperate plight of the ship and its people. When he came across a green-skinned woman desperately trying to free herself from beneath a fallen girder, he used his inhuman strength and the metal arm to haul it off her. From there it was a short step to prying open a damaged door that had trapped three of the crew in their quarters.

He kept his head down, his eyes averted, and said very little when spoken to, but he kept working diligently. At least for once he was helping people, not hurting them.

Room 4J - Closed to Mack

Given his druthers, Bucky would have found a secure corner to hole up in and stayed there. As far away from other people as possible, preferably somewhere it would be difficult for others to get to.

Actually, he was going to do that. There was no way in hell he was sleeping in a tiny space with people he didn't know. But he figured he ought to at least try to play along and not draw too much attention from the Powers That Be, and that meant living in the assigned quarters, if not sleeping in them.

He'd been in the Army. He knew what grunt quarters were like. Hell, having an actual room with actual beds was a step up from what he'd had through most of the war. From what he'd had through most of his time with HYDRA, come to that.

So he'd expected the space to be tight. He'd expected the narrow beds crammed in together. He'd expected the minimal storage and utilitarian uniformity.

What he hadn't expected was for it to be snowing.

It was fucking snowing. In his room. It was like Siberia all over again.

Room 4J!

[notalwaysstrong]

Mack knew something was wrong when his boots crunched into snow.

Supressing the automatic shiver, he looks around the snow-covered surfaces of his assigned quarters, before his eyes lock onto Bucky. Taking a few more steps in so the doors close behind him, he addresses the only man who might know what's going on;

"Unless you did this, I think the ship's playin' a goddamn joke on us."

[snapturtle]

Finding herself on another Starfleet vessel had been jarring, sure. But then, weird things tended to happen when you were stranded out in the middle of nowhere. She's just managed to find herself in the middle of a different nowhere. Without a single person she actually knew, and weird people showing up along with her. What the hell is going on?

B'Elanna didn't take much time to ponder that though. Not with everything going on and the ship being a wreck. It was just like when they had been flung across the galaxy. Both Voyager and the Val Jean had sustained quite a bit of damage. This was a situation she unfortunately knew all too well. So she hit the ground running.

Whether anyone wanted her to or not, B'Elanna had grabbed the first tool kit she found and got to work. She knew her way around a Starfleet ship well by now. In fact, this one was similar to Voyager at about half the size. Pushing herself into engineering and elbowing into repair there, she had gotten a couple cocked eyebrows from the Vulcans there. Another engineer had tried to give her a hard time for being in a restricted area but she was quick to snap at them.

"Your chief is dead, the ship is in pieces, and you want to argue about protocol? Either we can stand around debating this or you can get the hell out of my way and let me help."

Well. The argument hadn't lasted long to say the least.

The critical systems of course took priority, and then things could be worked on from there. Thus she could be at varying locations at different times all across the ship. In engineering, in Jeffries tubes, in the maintenance areas, in corridors. She even has the gall to walk onto the bridge to see to repairs. Not asking permission and not apologizing. If someone wanted to confront her, that was fine, but they will get a gruff rebuttal. In fact she will only get crankier the more time goes on as she burns the midnight oil, staying up at all hours to work.

Someone might even stumble upon her taking a quick cat nap in a weird location. She could probably use something to eat too, but that was luxury she didn't really have much time to indulge in. Especially with the replicators not working right.

[nobettycarver]

Peggy had done a little shouting of that type in her own time, too. The sound of B'Elanna berating a crewmember who was giving her a hard time had attracted her attention, and she diverted her route to draw a little closer.

The crewmember scurried away, leaving the two women alone in a heavily damaged corridor where the lights flickered merrily on and off in a dizzying rhythm.

She wasn't quite sure what to make of the odd forehead ridges on the woman's forehead, but it was either a deformity - in which case, Peggy shouldn't stare - or it was normal - in which case, Peggy should try to pretend that it was normal for her, too.

So she strode up to a nearby doorway where pieces of debris had fallen and blocked the door from closing. It was making a rather annoying, repetitive beeping noise.

"I'm Peggy Carter," she offered, after a moment.

[notalwaysstrong]

It's been an interesting day. He'd met his new roommate and even found someone to help him stop it snowing in his room. Obviously, as soon as he fixes the lighting in the same section of the ship.

For now, however, he's stood on the observation area on Deck 7, just staring out at the stars. Thinking.

He doesn't recognise any of these stars, any constellations, any combinations. It's like nothing he's seen before. He folds his arms, rubbing them to prevent the goosepimples from this realisation showing too much.

"This is too damn weird..."

[condemned_copper]

The diminutive redhead had been out on the deck for a time herself, silently watching the man down a ways from her, likely thinking the exact things she was: What has HAPPENED to me? What even IS this place? Am I dead? In a coma? Or have I been sectioned in some sort of asylum and these are hallucinations?

Of course, she didn't really believe she'd gone mad; but the fact that prior to waking up in Sick Bay she'd just been pistol-whipped in an ambush by a suspect fleeing the scene of a jewelry heist didn't help the other two thoughts any, and her stomach lurched slightly in response. Louise's physicality matched his in the way the whole place made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and soon she, too, found herself rubbing at her arms and shoulders.

When he spoke, she just turned to regard him a moment.

"Indeed," she said, her reply stiff and sober.

[got_it_memorized]

Mess Hall
Food out of thin air, what a great invention! Axel could definitely get used to this. No more fighting over katsu bowls with Larxene, no more scrounging for munny in the cushions of the sofas of the lobby for the vending machines...

Now if only this replimabob would give him what he wanted he would be in good shape.

"Sea. Salt. Ice. Cream," he said again, slowly and deliberately. Why was this so hard?

"Please specify parameters," the machine said again, and Axel gave a grating sigh. He flowered baleful lyrics at the four bowls of ice cream in front of him in varying flavors that were not sea salt, and kneaded his forehead.

"Dammit, ship, I'm an assassin, not a dessert chef," he grumbled under his breath, and then gestured vaguely with his hand. "Okay, it's ice cream," he said, "but the flavor is sea salt. But it's not just sea salt, that was way too salty!"

He pushed aside the bowl of ice cream that had definitely only been made with salt, making a face.

"It's sweet, too!" he insisted. "And it's blue, not purple!"

he pushed aside the bowl of salty blueberry sorbet that he was sorry he had even dared to taste. Another bowl of ice cream shimmered into existence, this time a bright neon blue, and Axel let his head thunk against the front panel of the machine.

"Why is this so hard?" he whined.

Anyone brave enough to give him a hand?


Anywhere
[Literally anywhere you want.]
There was a whooshing sound, and then a bloom of black and silver smoke erupted into the air, a great gaping maw of purple and indigo opening up behind it.

Axel stepped out of the portal and dusted his sleeves off. The Corridors of Darkness were behaving a bit strangely: they wouldn't take him home, and every time he tried to go to some world he knew, he wound up somewhere else on this blasted broken spaceship.

"The hell am I now?" he asked wearily, and then glanced up when he saw he wasn't alone.


Room 4G; locked to The Doctor
He had figured he wouldn't have the room to himself forever, given how many beds there were. Pity, sleeping was going to be difficult with roommates (though he supposed no more difficult than it usually was anyway). Sprawled out on the top bunk, Axel stared at the ceiling, then rolled over when he heard the telltale sound of the door sliding open.

Oho, time to see who the new roommate was.

The Mess Hall.

[condemned_copper]

The petite, redheaded detective sauntered up behind the grumbling, wild-haired young man and slid her hands into the pockets of her grey trousers as she rocked back on her heels.

"Don't ask it to make you shrimp and asparagus risotto, then," she said, her voice low and lilting, with more than a hint of a British accent to it. "If you think that salted ice cream is the worst thing this sad lot of machinery can crank out, you've got another thing coming, mate." A snort punctuated the sentence.

[notrosesshadow]

Mess Hall
Martha took a sip from the tea she had just ordered and promptly spit it back out. "Eugh... sorry," she replied to whomever just witnessed that. She turned back to the replicator. "I asked for earl gray tea. Not... not... I'm not even sure this is an Earthen beverage!"

[Corridors]
Martha worked her way through the corridors, moving things when she could, checking for wounded as possible. The latter didn't seem to be all that numerous though. She pushed her weight against a particularly large piece of wall that needed to be moved, grunting when it didn't budge. "A little help please?"

[fist_of_hydra]

((I apologize in advance; given he's from the 40s, he may sometimes be unintentionally racist. Feel free to have her call him on it if he does.))

Mess Hall

One of the downsides to an Enhanced metabolism was the need to eat significantly more food than a normal guy his size - and that was saying something. With the way it continued to snow in his quarters, Bucky was finally forced to venture into a space he'd been intending to avoid - the mess hall.

Thankfully it was mostly empty, and the only person he saw was a black girl who didn't seem likely to be much of a threat. She didn't move or stand like a fighter, didn't have the muscles he'd expect to see if she was any kind of soldier or mercenary.

Which didn't mean she wasn't potentially dangerous. The Black Widow was capable of making herself look perfectly harmless and innocent, and dressing to hide her lean muscles. For that matter, nothing said this woman was human, so who knew what she was capable of.

Still, her comment made him crack a smile. The British accent and the attitude reminded him strongly of the woman from his past he'd just met, Peggy.

"These things can make anything, right? Not just food?" He stopped well out of reach of her, body language wary and voice rough with disuse, but the small smile lingered. "Are we sure they won't accidentally make antifreeze or something when we ask for drinks?"

Eames - Open

[withimagination]

Hallway - Lights

Eames is walking down the hallway back to his quarters, his belly full. He feels like he's starting to get used to this, and even if he weren't, he'd be pretending he was. The lights go off with zero warning.

"Hello?"

He walks along as best as he can before-

"Oof. I do believe that's my stomach you just elbowed." Never mind that it's just as much his fault.

Hallway outside Room 4E - Environmental controls

It's hot as hell in this hallway. The temp controls must be going crazy, because it feels like a sauna. Or at least that's what Eames is using it as. He's in shorts and no shirt, spread out in a chair with his feet propped up on another. A book is in his hands, and he'd be wearing sunglasses if he'd brought some, just to complete the look. He's also blocking the way, so...

Hallway - Lights

[nevermindtherunning]

The Doctor had been moving quickly through the coordinators, searching for answers to this place. It was unfamiliar to him and he didn't recognize any of the parts or clues as to whose it was. One thing he had figured out, which didn't take much, was it was obviously abandoned for a while and a good chance the crew was in distress.

He was in the middle of examining some debris when the lights flickered and turned off, surrounding him in darkness. As he groped the wall, he collided with someone -- or at least his elbow did.

"Sorry 'bout that!" He speaks in a light tone, searching his pockets for something helpful, but only managing to find his sonic screwdriver. Maybe he could reroute some wires to return things to this section, at least.

"Mm, a bit dark innit? I'll see if I can fix that."