This topic contains 33 replies, has 4 voices, and was last updated by Nhaima 2 months, 3 weeks ago.
-
Posts
-
On the far wall, Eric can be seen digging through the contents being held by shelving. It’s easy to see where he’s been so far by the mess.
If you think that’s bad, our transition got rid of every stash I had in the division. This ship is my last hope.
A pair of boots click against the deck plating and Alia turns the corner, stepping through the open hatchway.
“Finding what you need?”
Sorry, can’t hear you. Where is that voiddammed bottle?
Eric noisily rummages through the storage. At times sticking his head into cupboards.
Matsiyan appears in the doorway wiping his hands with a rag which he sniffs at from a distance, wads up and hurls in the nearest rubbish bin.
It certainly degreases a treat, but it smells awful. Hey Eric, would you mind stashing this back on one of those shelves. Can’t remember which one I got it from. Tosses to Aramond, a metal can with a narrow screwtop, labelled “Solvent”
Although it’s hardly worth it. Barely more than fumes left.
Any chance of a decent cup of tea?-
This reply was modified 2 months, 3 weeks ago by
Matsiyan.
There you are!
Eric pulls himself out of the cupboard, and turns around, presenting an odd sight. The annoyed, yet victorious, grin is nothing new. Neither is him holding a bottle of alcohol. But covering his left eye is a dark-red eyepatch.
Mats, do I even want to know why you’re storing paint thinner in the mess?
“Having an effect on you too, sir. I don’t remember ever seeing you this hard up for a dose of medication. And might it be best to wean yourself back, just in case your counterpart doesn’t partake?” she said softly, her new somewhat leaner face bending over gently to say it into Eric’s ear… before adding, “With respect sir.”
Eric blinks, the look of victory being uncomfortably replaced.
No ranks in the bar. He says quickly before taking a swig of his trophy bottle. Though, this appears ruined for him as well.
…this is orange juice.
Her eyes scanned the mess hall pensively before she waived her black gloved
hand around at the surrounding space.“I suppose if anyone is allowed to say that authoritatively here, that would be you Eric,” she said with a nod, followed by a small smile.
I wonder if they have vodka. Eric glances at the bottle before walking over to the bar.
After a moment, No, tequila won’t do! Do I look like a first-year academy student to you?
He walks back to the group, sighing. The Kommandant lost his eye in the same way I did: fighter malfunction. Only in his version of events, there was some sort of complication that prevented a cybernetic graft.
It also must have taken out a few brain cells. Erik Aramond spells our damn name wrong. Takes a swig of OJ.
-
This reply was modified 2 months, 3 weeks ago by
You must be logged in to reply to this topic.