Liquid Snake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saveyourserpent) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-03-19 09:35 pm
saveyourserpent) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-03-19 09:35 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] full speed right ahead
Who: Liquid Snake and anybody else!
When: mid-March onwards
Where: The Moira (Various spots, cargo bay, his room) and Ceta (just wandering around, totally working)
What: non-event stuff. Liquid does his job, explores things, gets some presents, and sits in a chair.
Warnings: nothing, will update if necessary
[cargo bay]
Liquid was a little surprised when he received the message on his MID. Sure, he'd put in a request for a few things, but the last he'd expected was to actually get something. Meant they must have had the stuff lying around. Maybe he should have asked earlier instead of waiting around, although he supposed going by the book was the best way to do things. Either way, though, they had everything he wanted... including the box.
The box he had to take away from cargo bay. Of course, it was obvious it was a box of things, but it was a small amount of things for such a large box and the fact that he'd even gotten one to begin with was particularly embarrassing. Yes, he was plagued with the family Box Thing. Still, who the hell was going to be taking it and seeing how light it was?
Of course, it'd be easy to notice when he opened it to see what was inside, anyway, since he didn't take it away before he did. A package of razors, some shaving cream. Look, he'd be able to keep the beard at bay for a long time without having to go to the salon. And, of course, a knife, fit for stabbing. You know, for self-defense.
It was like Space Christmas.
[Nomo Deck, room 005- open to roommates or anyone who knocks on the door I guess]
The box with the knife and razors and shaving cream was one thing, but when he made his way back to his room the next day, there was apparently an additional item that made him pause the second he stepped through the door.
Something in that room hadn't been there before. Something in the corner nearest to where he slept, something white, and plastic, and, well, chairlike.
"Oh my god."
It was a pretty nondescript plastic lawn chair, but it was scuffed and stained just so, in certain places, and holy shit did it bring back memories. It was his chair. His "throne," which he'd spent plenty of time sitting on as "Nyoka ya Mpembe," leader of a group of child soldiers in Angola.
Vintage 1984. Ah, the memories.
Well, obviously he had to go sit in it, hands behind his head, legs spread out like he didn't have a care in the world. And that's where he stayed, for... a pretty long time, really.
[WILDCARD - working hard or hardly working]
One thing a counterintelligence officer needed to know was just about everything. This, of course, was justification enough for Liquid to try and stick his nose into just about anything he could.
Taking an armful of snacks from the mess hall? Working. Working out? Working. Playing video games in the lounge? Working. Watching whales down on Ceta? Working. Actually working? Working.
Ah, job perks. He sure did work hard.
[Liquid will be wandering around both the ship and Ceta, keeping an eye on things and "gathering intel", so if you want to plot things out or just start or whatever, go right ahead. (thumbs up)]
When: mid-March onwards
Where: The Moira (Various spots, cargo bay, his room) and Ceta (just wandering around, totally working)
What: non-event stuff. Liquid does his job, explores things, gets some presents, and sits in a chair.
Warnings: nothing, will update if necessary
[cargo bay]
Liquid was a little surprised when he received the message on his MID. Sure, he'd put in a request for a few things, but the last he'd expected was to actually get something. Meant they must have had the stuff lying around. Maybe he should have asked earlier instead of waiting around, although he supposed going by the book was the best way to do things. Either way, though, they had everything he wanted... including the box.
The box he had to take away from cargo bay. Of course, it was obvious it was a box of things, but it was a small amount of things for such a large box and the fact that he'd even gotten one to begin with was particularly embarrassing. Yes, he was plagued with the family Box Thing. Still, who the hell was going to be taking it and seeing how light it was?
Of course, it'd be easy to notice when he opened it to see what was inside, anyway, since he didn't take it away before he did. A package of razors, some shaving cream. Look, he'd be able to keep the beard at bay for a long time without having to go to the salon. And, of course, a knife, fit for stabbing. You know, for self-defense.
It was like Space Christmas.
[Nomo Deck, room 005- open to roommates or anyone who knocks on the door I guess]
The box with the knife and razors and shaving cream was one thing, but when he made his way back to his room the next day, there was apparently an additional item that made him pause the second he stepped through the door.
Something in that room hadn't been there before. Something in the corner nearest to where he slept, something white, and plastic, and, well, chairlike.
"Oh my god."
It was a pretty nondescript plastic lawn chair, but it was scuffed and stained just so, in certain places, and holy shit did it bring back memories. It was his chair. His "throne," which he'd spent plenty of time sitting on as "Nyoka ya Mpembe," leader of a group of child soldiers in Angola.
Vintage 1984. Ah, the memories.
Well, obviously he had to go sit in it, hands behind his head, legs spread out like he didn't have a care in the world. And that's where he stayed, for... a pretty long time, really.
[WILDCARD - working hard or hardly working]
One thing a counterintelligence officer needed to know was just about everything. This, of course, was justification enough for Liquid to try and stick his nose into just about anything he could.
Taking an armful of snacks from the mess hall? Working. Working out? Working. Playing video games in the lounge? Working. Watching whales down on Ceta? Working. Actually working? Working.
Ah, job perks. He sure did work hard.
[Liquid will be wandering around both the ship and Ceta, keeping an eye on things and "gathering intel", so if you want to plot things out or just start or whatever, go right ahead. (thumbs up)]
no subject
Liquid then looked down at the box, which had a convenient flap opened from when he'd peered inside. "It's just some supplies." Very sharp supplies. And a whole lot of nothing otherwise save for some shaving cream and a single combat knife, certainly not enough for such a big box. He sighed and showed the box to him. "I... don't like having a beard." Because that was the embarrassing part.
No matter what he said to the contrary, he'd be in that box soon enough.
no subject
"It is a Slavic thing."
Though now that he thought about it, his roommate was pretty wooly, but he'd never seen Snake more than a little stubbly.
no subject
"Took me ages to find out where they keep the razors 'round here. Thought I'd go mad. So I got a package just for myself." Then he wouldn't have to mess around with salons or finding razors that other people might have used or anything else.
no subject
This was about as bad as the first time he saw Snake in a sneak suit and about gave himself an aneurysm trying to figure out how he squirreled his way into it.
And now he was wondering how much body hair his brother had. And honestly he didn't want to go back to work and be trying to stare at parts that weren't above the neckline on his buddy. "Well. I guess it is now time to clock out and erase everything with vodka."
no subject
"...Are you alright?" He noticed him looking down, but it hadn't dawned on him just yet why he even did it. Liquid was sometimes a little slow on the uptake. Definitely a Snake family thing.
"Is the work 'round here that bad?" Then it kind of hit him and he narrowed his eyes. "...Whatever the hell it is you're thinking, it wasn't what I meant at all."
no subject
But that didn't mean the damage wasn't done.
"If it is any consolation, I think I have a great-aunt who has more facial hair than both you and your brother put together."
no subject
He snorts a little at the 'consolation'. "... Well, that's unfortunate. She must have to shave more than I do."