useofaswhat | 009 ✫ Voice/Spam

[Voice]

Just so y'all know, Nicole an' I'll get the boiler tonight. Do we got a dinner shift going here or are we fending for ourselves?

[Spam for Natasha]

[Sharing a room with Natasha might get a little awkward, but Mal has to admit that in an old-fashioned way it's a pretty nice one. There's a pair of double beds and a window looking out over an actual view, bleak and snowy though it might be. The place ain't exactly homey but for a stopover during a crash it's comfortable; at least there aren't any aliens this time. But funnily enough, whenever he looks outside he swears he sees Tracey's family graveyard on St. Albans.

Must be one of those times where looking out in the snow makes you see things. Mal shrugs his wool overcoat off and pushes the thought from his mind – he's got an inmate to deal with and a great amount to work through. That's far more important.]

Ladies first. Go ahead, pick your bunk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

keepsthemsafe

[It's the accent maybe that gets Shane's attention. Are you from home man? For his part he looks mighty at home and perhaps even more pleased then he was on the boat.]

Is there any food? [Fuck he's no Daryl Dixon but sure, he's magnanimous, no walkers so far but he can't shake the feeling that they're almost there and no Rick and Lori? Because that's what this place reminded him of, that lodge the man was fucking obsessed with back home, dragging Lori and Carl and sometimes Shane. It's a growing feeling.]

From:

useofaswhat

[Psh, Shane, don't be silly. Nobody's from Mal's home anymore.]

Note said there's food in the kitchen so it don't sound like we're gonna starve.

From:

keepsthemsafe

[No shut up no one is from his home either. WAY TO GO SOUTHERN SPACE BRO.]

You know, as much as people keep bitchin' about this place? I still have yet to see a bad side of it. Mean that. It's a nice if somewhat unsettlin' winter lodge. Glad there is food tho. I'm shit at winter huntin'.

From:

useofaswhat

The Admiral's dumped us on worse worlds, I can tell you that. Wait, what d'you mean unsettling? [That wasn't just him getting creeped out?]

From:

keepsthemsafe

[Be proud of him Daryl Dixon. Be so proud. Shane leans close.]

You ever been huntin'? Been out in the woods? Seen any game? Not like...like some backwoods survivalist but just...

Ever had any experience on that?

Edited Date: 2012-11-18 07:23 pm (UTC)

From:

useofaswhat

Yeah? [He'd gotten to go snaring with some of the hands growing up and when rations got cut off during the war they'd hunted small game for meat.] What're you gettin' at?

From:

keepsthemsafe

...Ain't no animals out there.

No birds. No anything tryin' to hide. No footprints neither. Sure maybe it's the snow, maybe it's deep winter, but I can think of at least three animals off the top of my head that'd be making noise.

Then again I dunno. Maybe... [He shrugs, looking annoyed] Maybe 'm just paranoid but..

From:

useofaswhat

Could be the woods round here got cleaned out. [Which would make sense if the place wasn't completely abandoned.] Could also be nothing's comin' out in the snow, like you said. Most critters don't like a deep freeze.

From:

keepsthemsafe - Date: 2012-11-20 01:57 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

buildindreemz

Let me know if you see anything else down there. I'm kind of curious about it, but I also... don't... really like rats.

I'm a pretty terrible cook so I'm kind of hoping the shifts take over.

From:

useofaswhat

Will do. Who knows what a place like this has got hiding underneath it.

Yeah, cooking ain't my strong suit either. I'm crossin' my fingers someone saves us from ourselves.

From:

buildindreemz

Rats the size of my head, probably. [Ew.]

I'll just make my boyfriend cook for me if nothing else.

From:

useofaswhat

If that's so we won't run outta meat. [Purposefully grossing out the civilized folk? Mal? Perish the thought.]

Think you could talk him into whippin' up a proper meal?

From:

buildindreemz

Ew.

[He can probably hear her wrinkling her nose.]

He's no chef, and I'm not sure he's nice enough to cook for a whole crowd of people.

From:

useofaswhat

What? 's just meat like any other animal. [Which is not exactly true – he's met people who happily chowed down on dog and rabbit, but there aren't many people not struck by famine who would willingly dine on rat.]

Not even if you give him puppy eyes?

From:

buildindreemz

It's rat. That's gross.

[Gross gross gross.]

I can try, but he's stubborn.

From:

From:

useofaswhat - Date: 2012-11-24 07:06 am (UTC) - Expand

From:

persuadeyou

[Natasha valued her privacy, but she wasn't exactly shy; she'd shared rooms with Clint on missions plenty of times, and there was no way she trusted Mal as much as Barton, but she didn't distrust him, either.

Shrugging off her parka, she tossed it on the closest bed, closest to the door.]

The snow's picking up. [She nods toward the window, following one of his looks. At least she isn't seeing graves. Yet.] And of your planets get bad snow?

From:

useofaswhat

[So basically if she were Zoë and he were Clint everything would be cool.

More'n a couple. Some get nothin' but.

[He tosses his own jacket on the opposite bed and turns abruptly from the window (one dreary snowscape on a backwoods planet looks much like any other, he reminds himself) and turns to her. Tracey and his folks and St. Albans is not what he wants to dwell on right now. Too much work to be done.]

Where do you reckon they keep flashlights in a place like this? If that cellar ain't lit I don't fancy fighting with the furniture.

From:

persuadeyou

[Preeeeetty much, she's been sleeping in his room for months anyway. But the Admiral never makes things easy, so.]

Front desk, maybe. Or the closets. [Which is where she heads first, checking the very top shelves and the very back corners. And while she's looking, she could swear she heard a creak behind her, felt someone stepping close - but when she looks over her shoulder, ready to tell Mal that he missed his shot when he didn't hand over her file the first time she asked, there's no one there. A frown crosses her face, just briefly, and she shakes it off, rising on her toes again to finish looking.]

Nothing here. You find anything?

From:

useofaswhat

[Yeah, the most physical contact he ever had to think about while sharing barracks or tents with Zoë was whether she'd kick him in the ribs if he snored.

While Natasha scrounges the closet, Mal's combing through the wardrobe and finding nothing more exciting than empty wire hangers. The desk turns up nothing interesting either, just a blank pad of stationery and a King James Bible he doesn't even bother picking up.]

Nope. Wherever they keep the good stuff, it ain't in the room.

Want to go start up the heat?

From:

persuadeyou

[He should probably worry about the same thing here. She looks around, taking stock of the wires, the untouched bible, but she doesn't comment on them. When she looks back at Mal, she shrugs, and ignores the idea that she should hide one of those wire hangers under her pillow, just in case.]

Might as well. Why'd you volunteer?

From:

useofaswhat

[If he walks out of here with just bruised ribs courtesy of Natasha, he'll count himself lucky. In the meantime, he plans to keep one eye on her at all times, as well as one hand ready to draw.]

Why not? Crawlin' around in a cold dark cellar while trying to coax the breath of life into an old machine sounds like a right grand adventure, don't you think? Plus, I wasn't sure anyone else would.