myresponsibility | 038

[Public Spam]

[Every once and a while, Peter heads out with his camera and fills a roll of film or two with pictures of the Barge. It's partially because he misses his hobby - he'd done this a lot back home, for the school paper and sometimes for money, and for fun - but also because it sort of feels like he needs a visual record of this place and the people he's met here for when he goes home.

Because he does plan on going home. Just not yet.

So he snaps pictures of the deck, the library, from the roof of the greenhouse, and of the people wandering around on deck, or in the dining hall.

He's not an idiot - there are a couple people he definitely avoids taking pictures of, just in case - but there're definitely times where you might have noticed him taking a couple candids of you and your friends.

After he's got the film, he usually heads to the lab to develop the negatives, which takes forever, even when you've been doing this for years. He's fortunately remembered to paste a knock first sign on the door, but feel free to ignore that and interrupt.]

[Spam for Scott]

[So.

Peter still doesn't feel very good at this - still, it's been forever and he still feels like an awkward asshole who's got no business trying to be anyone's emotional support system - but here he is, and here we are, so it sort of just makes sense that he finds himself wandering by Scott's door and knocking to see how his friend's doing.

Dead ex-girlfriends showing up on board are kind of a weird thing to wind up dealing with, you know?]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Tig can't spend all his time in the room. The room might be familiar, might be a place he actually recognizes, but that's all the more reason not to hole himself up there, honestly. He's not home, the more he's tempted to fool himself that he is the worse off he'll be. So he takes a walk. Wanders the hallways, tries to find his way (and isn't that a hopeless case). He hasn't taken his kutte off since pulling it back on during Iris' one woman welcome wagon, and now he relishes the reassuring creak of leather. One way this prison isn't really like prison, no uniform that's not his own, his identity remains intact. His affiliation. And even with his beef with Jax...SAMCRO's still his family, or at least the closest he's got besides his own.

Prison instinct comes back easily, whether or not the place seems like one. Watching your back, watching every corner, being on constant guard. It's what tips him off, the subtle click, the flicker of light, and glancing around quick it's easy to miss, maybe, but he's waiting for it after the first few.

He finally catches the kid halfway down the hallway, a sudden stop and a slow turn, triangulating, until he finds him, tucked in between the wall and the ceiling like he's velcroed to the wall. The biker tilts his head, curious, evaluating.]

You know, most people find it more comfortable on the floor. Less chance of falling. Or swallowing a spider web.

[It sounds ridiculous even as he says it, but as long as he accepts it as a given that he might be high already it doesn't seem quite so much so.]

[It's a totally common sight to see - Peter's even picked out a corner on the ceiling of the maintenance office that's pretty much his "desk", which frees up the rest of the room for Anya's and the variety of clutter that seems to find its way in there. His legs are folded under him, and he's putting another roll of film in his camera when the stranger stumbles upon him.

Tig's slow stop is what attracts his attention, and Peter looks up at first in surprise, and then smiles and shakes his head.]

Yeah, believe me, I know where that stuff comes from. It's not going in my mouth.

[Since he's probably more responsible for any spider webs people find around here these days. Or ever. Does the Barge even have spiders?]

You're the new guy?

[It might be common for the rest, but it's not like anything Tig's seen outside of the movies. Kids don't hang on the wall, least of all like it's nothing; it's going to take him a few moments to adjust.]

Yeah, I get that a lot too.

[It's easier to joke, to ignore the shit that shouldn't be happening.]

Tig. Fresh meat here, yeah. Listen, you mind gettin' down from there, you're kinda weirding me out. And I'm not easily weirded out.

Yeah, okay. Fair enough.

[He's done more or less everything he'd set out to do when he'd first climbed up there for a break. He clicks the back of his camera shut, swings it over his shoulder and hops back down, landing totally nimbly on the floor before hopping back up and brushing himself off.]

I'm Peter. But like, as a head's up, that's kind of super low on the scale of weird stuff you're gonna see around there, so. Get excited?

I'll try to contain myself.

[So dry.]

What's with the paparazzi thing?

[Peter shrugs unhelpfully.]

I like taking pictures. There's a lot of time to kill around here.

And that's the best way you got to waste time.

You at least got anything good on there? Sneak into anywhere you're not supposed to be?

No. Why, where should I be sneaking into?

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