SPACE T'aint What You Do

Discussion in 'Private Roleplay' started by Donatien Lefèvre, Oct 26, 2019.

  1. Donatien Lefèvre

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    Remarkable what you could buy in an Earther waystation's supply shop. Onto the check-out stand Donatien had piled three canisters of energy-drink concentrate in three flavors, two canisters of some kind of malt liquor whose name he didn't recognize, but which he had chosen based on the universal symbols for alcohol and alcohol content percentage, four fresh sandwiches of some description (or, he mentally amended, as fresh as one could get on a station like this), two packets of crisps, and a bag of sweets. To the pile, he added three lengths of reinforced hose, a set of clamps, and a packet of diagnostic strips.

    "And can I have..." He pointed over the cashier's left shoulder at a wall of medicine, indicating an anti-nausea medication that he had used more than his share of on the journey. The cashier turned, trailing his finger along the shelf until Atien told him to stop. "Yeah, gimme... five of those, in the red wrapper. And the coolant."

    "Need to see some ID," the cashier said, his tone bored, as he set the medication and coolant down on the counter. "Need bags?"

    Atien glanced at his haul. Fat chance of bringing it back in his arms without dropping it all along the way, like a grown man's version of Hansel and Gretel. "Yeah. Two should do it."

    "ID," repeated the cashier, finally looking up at his customer.

    "Right," said Atien. He reached into the inside pocket of his dark cerulean spacesuit and drew out his wallet, offering the cashier his ID. It identified him as Lexios Carver, Earth-born citizen in good standing, aboard the Jubilee, a cargo-hauler. The cashier handed it back and then completed ringing him up. Atien tucked his ID away and drew his cash, paying out the man and tucking his change away. He was never quite sure whether to tip anymore; was the cashier sullen because he was being stiffed? Was he just bored?

    Atien left a five on the counter anyway. "For your trouble," he muttered, picking up his bags and heading from the shop. The door opened onto the main concourse of the station. There was gravity here, but weak. Not quite as weak as to make him think he could fling himself up to the ceiling if he stepped a little too enthusiastically, but weak enough to make his stomach quiver with anxiety. He almost preferred the bruising ordeal of high-G spaceflight to the troubling sensation of low-gravity. He almost clicked his mag-boots on, but he knew that would marm him out as troubled. Wouldn't do. Image to uphold.

    Five minutes later he was entering the berth where Jubilee was docked. He keyed his way into the docking ring and headed for the crew lounge. "Hey boss," he called, his voice echoing around the confines of the ship. "Got us some grub while I was out. You hungry? And before you ask: yes, I got the hosing and coolant, too. Didn't blow my whole allowance on beer." He lowered his eyes and pulled the canisters from his bag, studying them for some sign of identification, then mumbled to himself: "Or whatever the hell this stuff is."

    @Rook Davies @Edel Concordia
     
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  2. Rook Davies

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    "Hey boss..."
    The silence had been nice. Of course, he knew it wouldn't last - they were a cargo vessel after all. It was the nature of the beast. Crewmen, constant station to station travel, it was the very nature of his career and yet he couldn't help but feel like there had to be something more. It was in these quiet windows of time that he truly had time to ponder these things. Alas, its time had come to an end.

    "Welcome back Lex, I could have sworn I told you to..." his voice dropped off as the boy continued. So he had listened. One couldn't be too sure these days. "Careful with that, it's extremely volatile stuff don't you know?!" Rook exclaimed. He rose from where he had been seated, a small oval lounge chair in the Jubilee's crew mezzanine. "What you do with your allowance is entirely not my interest." Rook quipped, gathering the canisters towards one end of a vaulted counter. Mumbling as he checked the labels he stepped over to a small panel on the bulkhead and depressed a button. :: Engineering, the supplies you asked for are in the mezzanine. Looks to be in order. :: With a soft audible click, Rook let the button loose.

    "As for food - I'd take anything that isn't reconstituted. You bring something back?" he questioned.

    The thought of food not eaten from a can or in liquid form sent a tremble through Rook's stomach. The life of a spacer wasn't a gentle one, specifically on the food front. You knew you were truly a spacer when canned meat and re-hydrated vegetable stew might as well have been cordon bleu experience. Simply put, they rarely had time to eat a proper meal and Rook wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to spend some hard earned scrip on food. Maybe the Martians could live off dried fruit and nuts but could that really be called living? He doubted it.

    @Dominique Lefèvre @Edel Concordia
     
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  3. Donatien Lefèvre

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    Atien opened the carrier bag and looked inside, then started pulling out small plastic containers covered in film. Each had a small label in the corner of the film, with a brief description of its contents. "Let's see. I've got, uh -- F. Beef, F. Chicken, Pasta/Red Sauce, Curry/Rice, F. Fish Sticks, F. Chicken Tndrs. What does F stand for?" he wondered aloud, nudging the plastic containers towards the captain across the table, reserving the last, which he flipped over to read the ingredients. "Oh, for the love... textured and flavored mushroom protein. Still, better than soy protein, I guess. Umami and stuff." He tossed the packet down onto the table with the others.

    "I'm gonna stash this gear," he said, gesturing to the coolant and things he had bought for the ship. "Wanna give it all time to cool down. Anyway, take your pick and I'll be back."

    He wound his way through Jubilee, coming to a stop in the engine access mezzanine where he offloaded the coolant, cables, and seals. He made sure everything was laid out correctly before turning and making his way back to the galley. "What did you decide?" He leaned against the table and snatched up a canister of the alcohol. He unscrewed the lid and took a swig, then cleared his throat and setting it back. "Oh, that's bloody," he muttered, pulling a face. "Puts hair on your chest, though." He took another swig, then nodded to the other canister. "It's yours if you want it, boss."

    @Rook Davies @Edel Concordia
     

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