outofclothes | ||| 001 spam/voice

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||| 001 spam/voice

spam.
[For most people, dying is a big problem. It tends to put a damper on their whole day. For Stark? Well, it's not quite the relief he thought it'd be (and a little more embarrassing than expected; going down to some rogue Sub Rosa was just not what he had in mind for his blaze of glory, but what can you do?), but it was on the to-do list somewhere along the way.]

[It doesn't even really faze Stark much when he finds his surroundings different from what he remembers from his last trip. Hell was on the brink of civil war. New management was always a possibility. He's annoyed, but not that distraught over the lack of his guns and knife. The na'at makes him a little sad, but he can always pick up another here. Weapons are everywhere if you know where to look.]

[And look, he does. Stark doesn't need his hand to be hold or to be told where he is even if this isn't what he was looking forward to. (And yes, he's completely aware of how fucked up that is.) The best he has, once he's on the deck, is that whoever took over the shithole has been watching a little too much Star Trek between organizing an army and overthrowing Lucifer. He hopes they didn't do something equally stupid to the arena or he's going to be pissed.]

[It's at that point, when he's fairly alone, he tries stepping into a shadow. When nothing happens, he's not all that relieved, but he's still not mad.]

voice.
[It's his cabin that makes Stark go from apathetic to not in less than a second. He would've shrugged off and forgiven being pushed off the U.S. Bank Tower compared to this. Stark knew death wasn't going to be a vacation for him, but there are some pretty clear lines that no one should have the balls enough to cross. Then again, there's always morons wherever you go.]

[Stark won't give anyone any satisfaction of an obvious reaction. You never let the other guy know he's under your skin because the second you do that, you've lost. He knows how to turn that part of his brain off and work on pure auto-pilot to close the door behind him, to sit down on the mattress, and start puzzling out the communicator. Luckily he's mastered enough of the ridiculous phone technology to figure it out.]

So, who'd like to take credit for this?

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[ New voice on the network. She's not really sure why she picks up the communicator - maybe she just wants to talk with someone.

Probably the Admiral, she thinks, as an answer to the question. Instead: ]

For what?

I mean. I'd like to, but that wouldn't be very honest of me.

[It's not, exactly, that Dean is paranoid. Not really. Not so he'd call himself paranoid. Cautiously alert, he'd put it, if asked. It's just that he's talked to almost everyone on board at least once or twice, and those he hasn't he still knows their faces; this is a face he doesn't know.

He'd remember.

That plus the sheer amount of murderous new passengers has him both curious and determined to be boldly proactive; this guy doesn't look very murderous, granted, but it looks like someone did a number on him and he's still standing, more or less. Or was for a while anyway. Possibly not, if he's here now.

Whatever.

Dean is on his way up to the firing range when he sidetracks himself, tugging his dark blue buttondown back into place over his Colt in its shoulder holster, arming himself instead with an easy smile.]

Hey. What's up, buttercup?

Depending more or less on what this is, I'm sure there are plenty around who would like to take the credit.

Better question is who deserves the credit.

[She waves, smile small but genuine.]

Hey, so it's Stark, right? I just saw you use that name earlier, I don't know you, sorry...though I did know a Stark before.

[Why did Tony keep showing up and then disappearing so soon?]

It's a lot to wrap your mind around, but I promise it all gets kinda mundane pretty fast.

I see our Cassel introduced me already, love. Pop up on deck and I'll bring you a bottle and some ciggies.

I think you'll do well 'ere. This is a place where smart choices are crucial.

Threaded | Flat

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