(open)

[tinkerhell]

Who: Reaper and YOU
When: End of October
Where: See prompts
What: Catch all for miniplot (and possibly beyond)
Warnings: None...yet

ooc: feel free to wildcard, or plurk/pm if you want to do something different

[He'd never been much of a music man. There was always too much to do, not enough time to discover and search. His soundtrack of choice hadn't changed much since he was a young man, and it didn't do much for him these days anyway. That said, having new and unfamiliar mixes of music available was doing wonders for his focus.

Recent goings on had made it difficult to concentrate in complete silence -- his mind would wander to things he could have done differently, things he might have forgotten, maybe a twitching in a muscle that he couldn't consciously stop. He was going crazy, crazier than he already was, just sitting still.

He'd been given a lot to think about recently.

At any time of the day, Reaper can be found sitting with a datapad, a croissant in some various state of consumption, and a nearly full glass of some kind of alcohol. The old TAB sits uselessly on the table beside the datapad, half dissected with most of its parts still in tact in spite of the fact that its guts have been pulled from its shell.

He doesn't look up when there are footsteps until they cross some invisible line, and then he pauses exactly what he's doing to look up and stare silently, waiting for some sort of introduction. If the person doesn't take the silence, Reaper will speak up himself:]

Enjoying the scenery switch? Not like we've been here for more than a few days. Probably. Who can tell when you're in space?

Comments

[magneticfields]

[ Since his conversation with Widowmaker, Erik has been doing some research on her friends. He still is learning how to use the computer system, and certainly couldn't bypass any security. But at least the names of her roommates were listed in the directory. It seemed a sensible place to start if he were to learn more about the organization she was a member of.

The man's name was listed simply as "Reaper", and Erik doesn't quite know what to expect as he approaches. He tries to take in as much as he can before he gets close enough to speak. He notes the exits and catalogues the metal in the room as a force of habit. There is something extremely odd about Reaper, something Erik can't quite place. As if the edges of him are somehow undefined and shifting. Or Erik's eyesight is not what it once was. An unpleasant thought. ]

Are you taking it apart or putting it together? [ His tone is reserved but genial enough as he gestures toward the pile of parts and takes a seat opposite Reaper. ]

[tinkerhell]

Took it apart before I came here.

[His voice is a horrible sound, a tired and old grizzled growl that echoes off the wall. The mask turns sideways to look at the open device. Some part of him had been hoping to find something salvagable, but it wasnt really his area of expertise. Sombra was far better at using technology than he was, but asking her to assist carried the risk of needing to trade a favor for later.

He wasnt in a position to be in debt at the present.

And then he turns his head back to his holotablet, finishing whatever note he was making before setting the pen aside.]

Not like they’re much use these days. Just like the MIDs

[magneticfields]

[ Erik nods and pours himself a two fingers of whatever it is that Reaper is drinking. ] Yes, the engineering team is working on a replacement gadget for the replacement gadget. Maybe next time they will construct it in such a way that it continues to function after circumstances change.

[ He wasn't an expert on this particular technology, yet. But he's fairly certain there has to be some way. Perhaps he will take that project on as he learns more about it. ]

I'm Magneto, by the way. I arrived only recently. I take it you have been away from home for some time?

[squadgoals]

[It's the croissant that catches her eye, first. The disarray of the dissected TAB, the parts strewn about--no.

Where the hell did he find a croissant?

She doesn't say anything as she watches him, tapping away at the datapad, until he speaks up himself.]

It's been about a Sol standard month. Give or take.

[She's been keeping track.]

There a bakery on board we didn't know about?

[tinkerhell]

Noted.

[He's watched Shepard make posts on the network before -- if anyone might be familiar with space time conversion, he imagined it might have been her.

When she asks about the croissant, there's a sound that comes from behind the mask -- its short, sounds a bit like a throaty growl, but judging by the way his shoulders move it is in fact a chuckle.

Or something close to it.]

Colleague brought them back to the room. You'll have to talk to her.

[He closes the notebook in favor of giving Shepard his full attention.]

Or, if you're desperate, I might be convinced to part with mine.

[Bitten into, and probably a little cold. How thoughtful.]

[squadgoals]

I'll pass. Think I've still got half a nutrition cube on me somewhere.

[Hard, green, nutritious. What more could you possibly need?? She was aware of the bias, one that she publicly shared—although if she was being completely honest with herself, didn't mind them that much at all. Food was food, and there was a kind of comfort in knowing that you could have it all in one compact block.

Still, variety was the spice of life—and a great morale booster.]

Wouldn't mind learning how she's making them, though. I'm sure there's people on board who would cry at the sight of food that's not a cornerstone of geometry.

[Her eyes flit over the scene again (minus invested croissant interest), circling back around to the mask, and its owner.]

Don't think we've met before. Feel like I'd remember the face.

[ha ha ha]

[wallride]

It's more like what I'm used to, man.

[commented calmly. lúcio remembers reaper and the, uh. shenannigans. the guy doesn't seems as hostile this time, though, so he's willing to not immediately boop him off the deck and run away.]

I don't know how time works in space. Maybe we've only been here a month but technically it's a year? I'm no scientist.

[tinkerhell]

The music? Or space?

[He remembers Lúcio's disappearance more keenly than he remembered other's. Now that he's settled into the crew more than he cares to admit, he finds that aggression doesn't get the results he's typically accustomed to.

It isn't exactly being nice, but its definitely a tone switch.]

[wallride]

Either or.

[he stays nearby, clearly interested in striking up a conversation; that doesn't mean he mistakes reaper's lack of outward aggression as friendliness.]

You seem different, man.

[sleepdarts]

( she doesn't answer his question at first, making herself comfortable in one of the other chairs. she'd keep pushing, tiptoeing over the unspoken line that had started moving between them. whilst this was new, and things unclear, she'd take what she could get, and try and push for something of what they used to have.

she wasn't a fool, and as much as ana might reminisce about how things used to be she knew it would never be quite the same. it shouldn't be, either. she'd always seen the cracks, but if she can pull them closer a little-- )

I've slept a few nights. ( "nights". she had some ways of marking the hours but she'd have to ask shepard for a little more information on how to figure it out. though it wasn't high on the priority list )

But I preferred having my feet on the ground.

( and despite the retirement of the situation part of it had been nice. a chance to rlax, let certain things dvelop, and there'd still been things to do. is that what a normal life was supposed to be? )

[tinkerhell]

Not much difference anymore, if you ask me.

[And she was, of course, asking him by nature of being there trying to talk to him. Reaper has since accepted that Ana wouldn't give up trying to get through to him, though there was nothing to really 'get through' to anymore. He'd surrendered the possibility on following through on his promise to eliminate the surviving Overwatch agents, and they could live peacefully at a distance so long as they didn't try to interrupt him anymore.

But this time, Reaper actually has something to ask of his old colleague. He sets aside his task for the moment and folds his arms, leaning back to better appraise her.]

Is this about Widowmaker?

[She hadn't told him about their conversation, but there was zero chance that Widowmaker hadn't already found her wandering around.]

[sleepdarts]

It wasn't.

( she actually found his perspective refreshing after all of the years, especially in their more jaded years. grumbling as two old people would--

though ana actually had something for him, some other part of the past, though perhaps this wasn't the moment for it )

But I do know she's here. We've spoken.

( been threatened, sassed back. as you do )

[mylawn]

[It's been some time since the deal with Sombra--since she vanished with his visor and returned it intact a few days later. Jack can't fully trust that she kept to her word, so he isn't wearing it any more than he usually would since he learned it was compromised, and he certainly isn't wearing it now, chasing after Reaper. He knows he should be keeping his distance after their conversation at the bar, but Jack has never been particularly good at leaving well enough alone.

Approaching directly is likely a mistake, but just circling Reaper's orbit will be enough to make his presence known.

It also gives him the opportunity to make sure he isn't followed, or that they aren't being watched. Sombra's monitoring might be impossible to find, but at the very least he can avoid Widowmaker. Jack gets the feeling Reaper might want that too, and he only approaches once he confirms that they're alone--or as alone as they can be, given the fact that Reaper has posted up in public.]

I try not to think about it.

[How long it's been. Jack sounds a little detached, like this means less to him than it actually does. He kind of wants to know where that croissant came from.]

[tinkerhell]

'Course you do, because you can't stop thinking about it.

[Reaper wasn't about to pretend he didn't know exactly what Jack was thinking. A few months ago, he hadn't been too far off from it himself. But those days were starting to slip through his fingers like sand -- a life here seemed simpler, less of a confusing chore.

But then again, that was the consequence of owing a lot of debts, on top of everything else wrong with the world.

He doesn't look up right away, peeling back a wire with one careful claw while scribbling notes blindly with his other hand. This thing was all but useless, at least in his hands. He hadn't wanted to admit it.]

You should probably start getting used to the idea that we're not leaving.

[He was almost starting to believe it himself, after all -- even if his plans to stay had only been vocalized to Sombra, it was hard not to think that there might not have been a choice when it came right down to it.]

[mylawn]

[He laughs a little, more of a huffed sound through his nose as he folds his arms and leans against the wall. He takes care to keep a bubble of space between himself and Reaper, trying to infringe on it as little as possible, like it's going to give them both some plausible deniability if Widowmaker walks down the hallway and wants to know what's going on. Reyes is, of course, spot-on in his assessment like always--Jack very rarely stops thinking about it and the mission he's left behind. It comes up practically every time they try to talk to each other, so he might as well stop acting like he doesn't.

Still, he won't accept being stuck as an answer, even if the more logical part of him knows that if they haven't found a way home by now, it's likely they never will. The chances are even worse now that the Ingress is ostensibly destroyed.

But Jack doesn't want to admit that outright to Gabriel, so he tries to turn it around, instead.]

Why, have you?

[It's difficult not to recall what Sombra said to him. At the time, he'd taken it as her trying to mess with him, but now he wonders if there isn't some truth in it. If Gabriel isn't so interested in the things going on back home.]

[araignee_du_soir]

[There was a slight clatter when Widow's Kiss was set down on the table as Widowmaker sat down with an irritated sigh. She pulled off her visor just long enough to loosen then repull her hair back, fingers running across her scalp, before it was situated back on her head.

Hands folding over her rifle, the right one bearing a bandage, she simply sat there staring at Reaper. Waiting.]

[tinkerhell]

[He knows something isnt right when the rifle clatters on the table. He doesn’t startle, but he does freeze what he is doing (which, at the moment, is taking half a bite of croissant with his mask set aside on the table. It affords Widowmaker full view of his calcuating stare, scarred, twisted and dark.

He finishes chewing and sets the croissant down nonchalantly, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. His fingers are inches from his only weapon hidden inside of his coat: a shock staff with enough power to subdue a dinosaur.]

Long day?

[imperceptus]

[ Rin likes hanging out in the bar, especially now that it's actually stocked. In the absence of an actual garden or any other source for alchemy, he's fine to practice mixology with spirits instead. Presently, he's just come from nearly drowning what few flowers he's managed to keep alive in this suddenly harsh environment, and he's irritated. But none of it shows in his expression or posture, which seem just as composed and friendly as ever. ]

I'm afraid I'm not one for the heat, but I can't say I dislike the new bar.

[tinkerhell]

Help yourself.

[With a fully stocked bar, sharing doesn’t actually hurt him, so he offers before actually looking up to see who he is talking to.

But then, when he mentions the heat, Reaper takes a moment to pause to consider who has just walked up to him, tilting his head in one direction. He hasn’t actually had to endure the heat yet, and he wouldn’t be rushing to it in a hurry. But more importantly, he is looking at a drow, which is definitely Something New.]

Heat?

[Its probably not a surprise that he hasn’t been in the greenhouse yet. Just look at him.]

a million years late

[lavelly]

[The thing about being perpetually in a bad mood is that you can't be fucked to pretend you're not.

Who can tell when you're in space, indeed. Even if all things were equal, the lack of sun and fresh air alone would leave Lavellan feeling sour.]

Not particularly. [If only the change had been to something actually pleasant.]

I rather hope this won't turn into a pattern.

<3

[tinkerhell]

Previous track record says it already is.

[He could gesture to his long tenure without further comment. From the Moira to now, his year had been spent being displaced involuntarily. He doesnt expect it to stop now.]

Best get used to it.

[closed to nihlus]

[tinkerhell]

[Reaper had not had much of an opportunity to explore the inner workings of their new home with everything else that had been going on. Widowmaker’s arrival had been untimely to say the very least, but he had managed to roll with that. He deserved some quiet time.

Which is why he pauses in the doorway of Life Support when he spots Nihlus who had apparently had similar thoughts.]

Am I interrupting?

[He isn’t short himself, but he taller than he imagined a turian to be.]

[beautifulspaceraptor]

[ Nihlus is actually on the shorter end of the Turian height spectrum, standing at 6'4". Vetra is taller than him.

Currently, the Turian was pouring over the scraps of blueprints he'd pulled up from the Avagi's systems, decked out in civilian-wear that he'd had designated for working in life support, sleeves rolled up-

... To reveal a sliver of the obnoxiously bright, glittery neon red prosthetic that is his right arm.

At Reaper's voice, a mandible twitches, followed with a head turn, inhumanly green eyes peering at the other man over the edge of a cowl. ]

No, just working, [ Nihlus greets, tones cordial. ] This isn't any private affair, just a very convoluted one.

Reaper, was it?

HERE I AM, FINALLY

[flexing]

[ Zarya doesn't need any time spent in silent staring, she'd approached with a purpose and she intends to follow through on that. He looks up, and she's quick with her greeting: ]

Hello! [ Followed immediately by a firm and decisive point at his croissant. ] Where did you get that?

[ Please, please sign her up for anything besides Saylent Blue. ]

HERE I AM, TWENTY YEARS LATER

[tinkerhell]

[Reaper pauses long enough to look down at the croissant, and then looks back up again.]

Don't get your hopes up. It was one of those things this place seems to be spitting out at random.

[He takes his hands off the TAB and leans back in his seat to fold his arms, tapping his claws on one gauntlet.]

You'd have to go hunting.