✋👮ℂỖή𝕥ᗩᶜ𝐓 ♤💎

[pampa]

un: millerlite
deck 3. room 20.

𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓬𝔂 𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽, 𝓿𝓸𝓲𝓬𝓮, 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸

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[creatio]

( She's seen the guy around the canteen a couple of times. Mostly he keeps to himself, though there are the rare days where he talks to Team We Already Know Space like he's familiar with them, so she doesn't think he's all alone.

It's the fuck off vibe he's got that keeps Clary's interest. She doesn't exactly know when to leave well alone, always muscling her way into situations without thinking. But today, there's no one in the room that she's friends with, and her head hurts from lack of sleep, silence pressing in at all edges. She's maybe feeling a little rebellious, a little aggressive, so when she sees him sitting by himself she makes her way over to his table, her tray slid opposite him as she takes a seat. Clary moves her spoon through whatever horrible mess the replicator hacked up this time, before she looks up to meet his eyes. )

So, who are we judging today?

( Because c'mon, it's obvious that's what he's doing. )

[pampa]

[ it was impossible not to notice the woman with bright red hair sitting across from him, no matter how hard he tries. and he's trying, pushing around his food with the butt of his spork. he's pretty obviously hungover, stinking of booze with big hollow circles under his bloodshot eyes. his hat is sitting next to his unoccupied left hand on the table, his gun sheltered under it - she might be able to see the barrel peeking out. ]

Thought I might start with the curious girl who thinks it's a good idea to sit with an obviously unhinged Belter. [ he leans his elbow on the table and puts his cheek against his hand. ]

{ action }

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Four days have passed since Rogue began to regain her sight, and she's starting to wonder if it would have been better to just stay blind. Light and shadows, blurred outlines of figures, fuzzy images that refuse to come into focus. Half the time she walks with her eyes closed, half a sense causing more trouble than no sense at all. And that's not even getting into the headaches.

Painkillers aren't exactly readily available on the station, not in enough quantity where she'd feel comfortable wasting them on herself for something as unimportant as a headache, however bad it is, and so when it gets particularly bad she makes her way to the bar for some old-fashioned self-medication.

She makes a beeline for the bar, ignoring whoever might be around for the moment and instead focusing on whatever bottles are still around. Or trying to anyway - it's more than a little frustrating to not even be able to tell which of the awful alcoholic substances might be inside. ]

Goddamnit.

[pampa]

[ miller hears the curse before fully registering the woman beside him. he thinks he saw her post, a while back. he remembered thinking it was ironic that alex was talking about someone drowning in the pool and then she went ahead and did just that. there's a gun on the bartop but it's mostly covered by a porkpie hat so that only the wooden grip is visible underneath.

instead of engaging her, he just pours another glass from the bottle he'd been working on and presses it into her hand before turning back to slump against the bar. there you go, quit your complainin', earther. ]

action

[rickitikitarr]

[It's a small boat, and there's only one bar, and Ricki makes a point of trying to be able to pin the names to the faces of everyone who haunts the place. He isn't by often, but the last few times in a row that he has been, he's seen Miller. So;]

Please tell me today is the day we've found a bottle of something palateable.

[While he slips behind it, to find himself a glass.]

[pampa]

[ he recognizes ricki... ish, too, though he'd never spoken to the guy. at the question, he stares down into his "gin" sloshing it around his glass in the low gravity with idle fascination. ]

We're drinkin' it either way, aren't we? [ he takes a long sip of the lukewarm liquid and sucks it off his teeth after like something to be savored. yeah, no such luck, buddy. he sets down his glass and touches his hand to the hat next to him on the bartop, the grip of a handgun peeking out from the brim. ]

(text that will probably end up action)

[resleeves]

what's up, beratna?

[ just keep blaming alex for this one, miller, because it's your name now.

after the arrival of his backpack, kovacs had been laying fairly low, staring at the fucking thing and trying not to see ghosts in the corners of his eyes.

he'd failed at a lot of that. ]

[pampa]

[ he's not the only one seeing ghosts. but he's still not expecting the text, even if he really should be after their last conversation. kovacs is like a dog with a goddamn bone when he gets something in his head. ]

Same as it was last time sabakawala

text

[charlieoscar]

[Mike sees Ricki's post, and while he has opinions on that weirdness, there's something more pressing.]

So he gets to smoke huh?

[pampa]

NO ONE gets to smoke asshole

don't make me threaten to get someone big to space you too

[ he knows his limits ]

text; un: slothbaby

[morphogenia]

So... you're some big, tragic hero back home, huh? I guess I should have seen that one coming. Sorry for spying on you btw. In my defense, I was trying to spy on the dying guy.

[pampa]

[ oh right, he had kind of aired his whole life story with ashford on the public network channel. whoooops ]

I'm not a hero. I just did something needed to be done. [ aka killed myself ]

text ; un: page

[subplot]

So what does sabakawala mean?

[pampa]

Asshole

action

[tekimetexeng]

[ Even though they ran out of alcohol awhile ago, Naomi decides to check the bar for Miller on her way back down to her quarters. If he's not there she'll just call him to come by but it's worth looking and sure enough... there's her favorite (okay, her only) space detective, sitting at a table in the corner by himself. She meanders over to him, taking in the very empty bar around them. ]

Never seen this place so quiet... how did I know you'd be here anyway?

[pampa]

[ he registers magboots vaguely, but he's pitched forward against the bar, his hat shielding his face with his head propped up on two fingers. it's impossible to tell if he's waking or asleep and even as he asks himself that question it doesn't become any clearer. her familiar voice starts him, and slowly he's moving like a tin soldier with his winder well-spun. swiveling on the barstool to face naomi, he gestures to the one next to him before his hand goes right back to his face. ]

Bar with no booze... isn't great for business. You can imagine why.

[ his eyes narrow, as always in assessment. he hasn't seen her in a while - a long time, really. though he knows she helped their friend. it's not like her to leave a belter stranded, what he's more concerned about is what that belter told him about the future. ]

I like it better this way, it's the only place I can get some peace.

Action

[tumang]

[ It’s not quite like Amos spends all of his time in the hydroponics farm, now that the door’s been unlocked, but it’s a close call. First, he has no machine shop here in which to retreat to, and there is a lot of work to do in the farm, testing the seeds, replanting, checking the systems are all working, water going where water should go, etc.

It’s not just for the company, even if the company is of quality.

He expects people coming and going, helping out however they can whenever they can. What he doesn’t expect is how often Miller checks in. ]

Found yourself a love for greenery, Detective?

[pampa]

[ miller shows his face down here at least once a day. he's still working on the hangar and lending support to everyone opening more doors on the outside, but prax needs people to remind him to eat, drink and sleep. he has to smile when amos drags the mattress in - that's probably for the best, the poor guy wasn't gonna leave otherwise. ]

Looks like I'm not the only one.

day before he zooms planetside

[solarcharged]

Okay, Mr. Detective. Here's a question for you. If you had the opportunity to go planetside, what clues would you look for?

[pampa]

That's Mr exdetective to you pal.

Any sign of organic life, a shipwreck, anything with this goddamn stupid logo on it. Oh and if you see anything glowing blue, run.

un: gunny - backdated to the 19th ish?

[marineris]

when's the last time you spoke to amos or alex?

[pampa]

saw alex yesterday. amos i've been looking for.

[ well, shit. this can't be good. ]

id: botanist | forward dated to stage 3

[contorta]

are you sick too

[pampa]

no.

[ a blatant lie ]

What's wrong with you Belta?

video; un: connor

[rk800connor]

[Connor usually would have opted for a text for this sort of thing, but considering his state the last time they'd met, he decided a text might seem almost suspicious.]

Hello Miller.

I wanted to contact you to let you know that I seem to be making a full recovery. [He raised a hand in greeting, also showing that he had regained functionality in his limbs.]

I wanted to thank you again for your concern.

[And now it was Connor's turn to look concerned.] How are you doing?

audio for reasons wow!!!!

[pampa]

I didn't have... concern. But good. I mean, no one likes a malfunctioning toaster.

I'm glad. Ish. Whatever.

[ miller chill omg ] I can hold a glass in my hand so God-willing, not sober for much longer.