Dr. Adrien Arbuckal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prorenataa) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-10-05 07:45 pm
prorenataa) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-10-05 07:45 pm
Entry tags:
Scrap It - Junk Yard [ OPEN! ]
Who: Everybody
When: During the Moira's visit to the Mini Colony
Where: The Mini Colony
What: A junk yard
Warnings: Could be violence but none for now, will update if necessary.
In an area of space known as the Runoff you might expect a junk yard of epic proportions. It would appear that the yard, known on the colony as 'Scrap It', lived up to those expectations.
Positioned at the edge of the colony, it seemed to go on for miles. From scrap metal, to scraps of ships, to scraps of just about anything the mind could imagine, it had made its way to this Mini Colony; this junk yard.
The place was a treasure trove of raw materials for anyone with an eye to pick it and the smarts to develop it! Though the yard did NOT deal in high end tech or software disposal (you’re not going to build an AI from scratch out of this place) some people might recognize bits and pieces that belonged to their worlds. Even without those bits, the particularly crafty might still be able to develop a project or two.
During the day the clientele was pretty much as you’d expect. Mechanics, inventors, bargain hunters all mostly above board types who are simply going about their own business.
At night it’s a slight different story.
Night time in the yard is the time of scavengers and opportunists. Fist fights were a common sight, especially if two or more people were after the same bit of torn bit hose. Physical altercations were often the easier way to go about getting what you wanted, as more enterprising individuals would stake their claim on a bit of the yard, and their 'customers' had to be ready to trade, pay or fight for it.
Bidding wars were a song of the night in the yard.
The yard was manned by employees at all hours. Those in the daylight were fairly easy to find, could even be helpful if asked politely. Those on duty during the night kept to the office and weren't interested in being bothered by what was going on outside; they had ill gotten gains to count!
[ Welcome to Scrap It!
OOC information about the yard can be found here including approval from the mods for characters to find canon items in the yard! If you want to find something and/or want a thread with an NPC for the yard, let me know on the OOC post!
Otherwise, enjoy your dumpster diving! ]
When: During the Moira's visit to the Mini Colony
Where: The Mini Colony
What: A junk yard
Warnings: Could be violence but none for now, will update if necessary.
In an area of space known as the Runoff you might expect a junk yard of epic proportions. It would appear that the yard, known on the colony as 'Scrap It', lived up to those expectations.
Positioned at the edge of the colony, it seemed to go on for miles. From scrap metal, to scraps of ships, to scraps of just about anything the mind could imagine, it had made its way to this Mini Colony; this junk yard.
The place was a treasure trove of raw materials for anyone with an eye to pick it and the smarts to develop it! Though the yard did NOT deal in high end tech or software disposal (you’re not going to build an AI from scratch out of this place) some people might recognize bits and pieces that belonged to their worlds. Even without those bits, the particularly crafty might still be able to develop a project or two.
During the day the clientele was pretty much as you’d expect. Mechanics, inventors, bargain hunters all mostly above board types who are simply going about their own business.
At night it’s a slight different story.
Night time in the yard is the time of scavengers and opportunists. Fist fights were a common sight, especially if two or more people were after the same bit of torn bit hose. Physical altercations were often the easier way to go about getting what you wanted, as more enterprising individuals would stake their claim on a bit of the yard, and their 'customers' had to be ready to trade, pay or fight for it.
Bidding wars were a song of the night in the yard.
The yard was manned by employees at all hours. Those in the daylight were fairly easy to find, could even be helpful if asked politely. Those on duty during the night kept to the office and weren't interested in being bothered by what was going on outside; they had ill gotten gains to count!
[ Welcome to Scrap It!
OOC information about the yard can be found here including approval from the mods for characters to find canon items in the yard! If you want to find something and/or want a thread with an NPC for the yard, let me know on the OOC post!
Otherwise, enjoy your dumpster diving! ]
closed to tony;
Sure, Ingress Work and Engines have kept him busy even without the Moira breaking down and stranding everyone onboard for apparently 365 days, but there’s nothing better than good old-fashioned scrap metals and the possibilities they bring to brighten a guy’s mood – especially if those scraps consists of advanced alien technology and a shitload of other goodies.
As great as the Science and Engineering districts are, Scrap It is the one that makes him feel... at home. He could stay here for weeks. He just might. Considering they’re gonna be here for a while, T might as well make good use of his time, right? He’s been itching to build something of his own again.
He actually gets so enraptured in searching for parts and exploring the mountains of scraps that he doesn’t even notice that most of the day has flown by. It’s getting dark now. He should return to the Moira. Maybe stop at the food market along the way. Feed himself. Yet naturally he doesn’t.
Instead, he stays on until he comes across another guy who’s decided to stick around. He’s a little surprised he hasn’t run into him sooner, all things considered.] Hey old man, [Walking down a slope of junk, T stops a few feet away from him as his right hand slips into his pants’ pocket.] find anything good?
no subject
Scrap metal isn't exactly easy to come by on the Moira, mail drops notwithstanding. It's put quite a few hampers on his personal projects, to his occasional irritation. It's why this is like an all-you-can-eat buffet of the highest caliber: junk. Metal junk. What more could any engineer want from anything? He vaguely wonders how he's going to haul back the inevitable mountain of crap he's going to wander out of this place with, but decides to worry about that later.
When T approaches, Tony's busy holding up what looks like an alien power coil in the quickly fading light. He lowers it and sits back on his heels, giving his counterpart an artfully drab look. ]
Y'know, I might've been inclined to share, but I'm feeling suddenly less magnanimous than I was a few seconds ago.
[ There's no actual bite to the words, but he's not letting T off without giving him some shit first. ]
no subject
By now, most of Tony’s reactions don’t come as much of a surprise to him anymore. Not that they really did from the start. It’s all too familiar.
—yet they still manage to bring a grin to his face, the better option than aggravation.] Aw, did I hit a sore spot? [He places his hand over his heart.] I’m sorry. I forgot you were sensitive about your age. [As if he isn’t too.]
It feels nice to be here, y’know. [He gives the junkyard a cursory sweep.] Around scrapyards and shops, and buildings again. Civilization. I mean, not the most ideal civilization, but— [He lowers his duffel bags down onto the pile as he takes a seat.]
Better than an island, right?
no subject
[ Tony lifts an eyebrow at the duffel bags - fuck, he shoulda thought of that. Though, in his defense, he hadn't expected to find this place at all when he first ran into it, and by then he'd been too enraptured to think of returning to the ship for space shopping bags. Oh well. ]
I never wanna see a beach again.
[ He used to love beaches. It's all a huge goddamn tragedy. ]
no subject
He doesn't say anything for a moment. Then, he speaks up. His voice, hesitant.] Y’know, [He leans forward, resting his arms on top of his knees.] I... [His brows furrow slightly as he tries to figure out how he’s gonna word what he wants to say.] I’m glad you’ve stopped drinking. [He looks over at him, making sure he meets his eyes.] And I don’t want you to take this as an off-handed comment because I mean it.
[He’s been wanting to tell him this for a while since they’d left the island and he started to notice Tony hasn’t been drinking at all. But considering they’re rarely alone, he hasn’t had the chance until, well, now. In the middle of this junkyard. Fitting, if he really thinks about it.]
no subject
Being pissed off sounds like a lot of effort right now, but it beats feeling suddenly uncomfortable. Are they really gonna do this here?? Right now?? ]
That's an interesting thing to waste your time being invested in.
[ It's not the kind of thing he'd expected anyone to so much as notice, let alone comment on. It doesn't feel particularly noble, either, not when it wasn't a conscious decision so much as having the habit literally traumatized out of him.
The scrap ends up not being the steel-alloy he'd originally pegged it for, so it tosses it back onto a nearby heap, probably with more force than strictly necessary. ]
no subject
This way he won’t have to deal with the potential hissy fit he might be getting if Tony doesn’t take it well – and as expected, he doesn’t. It’s less angry and aggressive as he thought it would be. Considering he remembers the times when he was confronted with his alcoholism, T hadn’t exactly reacted in the... calmest manner. He was kind of a major dickhead, to be honest; and he’s thankful Rhodey, Pep, and Happy hadn’t abandoned him even after all the shit they had to put up with because of him.
He knows Tony’s current sobriety isn’t a choice he made on his own without any external factors contributing to it, but when do they ever decide to make a good life decision until shit flies off of the handle for them first? If he’s willing to stick to it and give sobriety a shot, then that’s what matters. T can’t be certain if Tony is ready for that, but he’s going to try. It’s the most he can do.
And even though this does affect him on a more personal note than he likes to admit, T would honestly do this for anyone else he considers important to him. He did it for Carol and now he wants to do it for his alt. (He especially wants to do it for his alt.)]
I don’t consider it a waste of time. It might not seem important to most. It might not even seem important to you, but I consider it something worthwhile to note. [He gives a light shrug of his shoulder.] And you can get as defensive as you want on me about it. I get it. But I don’t think it’ll hurt for you to know there’s at least one person onboard the Moira who notices you're making a choice, temporary or not, and thinks it's a good one.
no subject
Hey, you're not gonna hear me telling you what your hobbies should or shouldn't be.
[ He aims for deflection and misses the mark, even for him. After a long moment he seems to deflate, sighing. Does it ever really work on T anyway? No, not really. And if he's being honest with himself, isn't a little - something? - to have encouraging words directed his way? He can probably count the number of times that's happened in his life on one hand. It's novel enough that he can't even place the feeling right now.
He sits back on his heels, raking his hands through his hair, heedless of the grit and dust. ]
Still got a bar to help manage. How's that for irony?
no subject
They can fool everyone around them with their easygoing, lackadaisical façade, but, at the end of the day, they can’t fool each other. Sure, they can try, but it won’t work – or at least it won’t work if one is insistent on something he feels is relevant to them.
As much as he wants to help Tony, T isn’t going to force him into doing anything he isn’t ready for. He isn’t going to tell him what to do or what choices to make in his personal life, especially since he doesn’t feel like Tony even wants to be sober.
He might want to be sober right now, but he could just as well decide he wants to drink again next week. Most T can do at this point is give him the option and let him know that he’s willing to support and help him if he does make that decision.]
If you’re planning to stay sober, I don’t recommend it. I would remove myself from that environment if I were you. But I’m not you and, I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think you really want to keep this up. Maybe for a while, but— this isn’t a decision you’re making because you want to stay sober.
It’s a decision you’re making because you just spent an entire year drunk on an island and you’re kinda put out with the thought of alcohol right now.
You can correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I’m wrong. [He cranes his neck slightly as he regards him carefully.] That being said, [He starts off slow.] I’m willing to be your sponsor if you ever need one. [A pause and then:] I did it for Carol— I don’t know if you know Carol, but— [His eyes shift down to the side for a moment, almost like he’s contemplating if he should honestly say what he’s about to say next. Then, he trains them back on him.] I can do it for you too.
[This has to be one of the hardest conversations he’s had in... over a year. How’s he doing?]
no subject
[ Tony's not even sure he knows what he wants, most of the time. Does he consider the drinking a problem? Maybe, sometimes, depending on how bad it is. Had he been considering quitting prior to the events on the island? Not really. Does that mean he can't stick it out now that he's here?
Well, if nothing else, he resents the implication that he can't.
The offer brings him up short, though. There isn't a snowball's chance in hell he'd accept it - and T probably knows it - but it's still a greater show of support than anyone else has ever bothered to offer him, save Pepper and Rhodey. And it's coming from himself.
What the hell.
Just... what the hell. ]
... You know there's no AA in space, right?
[ Just - that's as good as he can manage right this second. ]
no subject
A sigh almost escapes his lips at Tony’s words. No AA in sp— He’s making a crack about there being no AA in space when he’s currently offering to help him if he ever decides he wants to take it up (and, yes, he realizes he’s probably never going to). T really doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or snap at him at this point. Please don’t be flippant about something that has plagued him for most of his life, Tony.
Fortunately, neither of those options seem plausible and he honestly doesn’t want to unravel everything just because he has once again lost his patience with, well, himself.
Closing his eyes momentarily, he takes a deep breath before he answers him as calmly as he possibly can.] Yes, I know. [He hasn’t been to AA since he awoke from his coma. If they offered it here, you can bet his ass he would be attending it regularly.]
You don’t have to accept my help if you don’t want it. I’m just laying it out on the table for you, in case you ever do. That’s all I wanted to say.
no subject
It's a little terrifying. ]
I'll think about it.
[ Because he owes T some kind of serious answer, even if Tony already knows how unlikely it is he'll ever take up that offer. His pride is too strong, his trust too flimsy. Still, the sentiment behind it isn't lost on him.
He looks up, finally. ]
At least riddle me this: why?