004 | video + spam

[myresponsibility]

[Peter is sitting at his desk in his room, legs pulled up onto the chair and crossed in front of him. It's a sort of awkward fit - Peter's as tall as he is skinny, even though he's definitely gained some muscle mass since getting bitten by the spider - but it doesn't quite look uncomfortable. His expression, though, is sort of another story, because he definitely looks a little uncomfortable. He wasn't affected by the flood, but it was still weird, to see everyone babbling about themselves and letting everyone have access to their insecurities and worries.]

So, uh, how often do floods like that... happen? Not that it didn't make for an interesting couple days or anything, but I kind of figure too much sharing usually just ends badly, especially in a place where everyone kinda seems like they overreact to everything. [And really, he's just counting his blessings he wasn't affected, because too many people have suspicions about who he actually is and what he does already and he did not need to just blab it over the network. B(]

[Private to Bond]

Are you gonna threaten to shoot me again if I ask how you're handling what happened?

[...]

Where did you even get a gun, anyway?

[Spam for the Deck]

[Thus far, Peter had been unable to find much of anything useful when it came to figuring out how just about anything in this place actually worked. Not that it was really unexpected, because everyone had been pretty upfront about there not being much more than theories about how anything actually worked, but he was still curious and wanted to see for himself about a few things.

Like the deck, for example. He and Tim hadn't been able to find any signs of a generator for whatever was stopping them from being sucked off into the vacuum of space, or creating an atmosphere or whatever was actually going on here, and today he'd specifically dug around in his room for a while to find a pair of gloves to further test the theory that it could be a force field keeping them safe.

It was a little juvenile, probably, but considering he couldn't fly and didn't know anyone who could, it was pretty much the best option he had available at the moment, and so for a few minutes, he can be found up on deck lobbing snowballs over the side as hard as he can throw them, waiting to see if they bounce back or hit something. So far, they hadn't, and after a couple tries, he leaned over the deck railing, peering down into the weird... river was probably the best word for it, even though it was definitely not water, and wondered what would happen if he climbed down the side of the ship and tried to touch it.

It seemed like a pretty terrible idea, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious.]

[ooc: So, since Bond officially knows Peter's Spider-Man, feel free to fourth wall him within reason. His updated permissions are here!]

Comments

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[ichoosefight]

Floods are pretty often, but not they aren't always like that.

[ She didn't tell Peter about her sex life, so he gets the rare treat of seeing her face. Her embarrassed, vaguely miserable face. ]

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[myresponsibility]

That's what I was asking about, I know they happen like, twice a month. How often do floods like that happen?

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[ichoosefight]

I'd say a couple of months. I don't remember when exactly the last truth flood was.

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[myresponsibility]

But it's happened more than once.

[supersonic]

[ Pietro can handle cold weather — his native Transia is no tropical beach — but for that very reason he doesn't like it. Unfortunately, the alternative is staying below deck, and he likes that even less. Even if the deck isn't as large as he'd prefer, it's less claustrophobic. Whether or not anyone else happens to be using the space doesn't strike him as a thing he should care about — at least, not until he sees who it is.

Or who he thinks it is, anyway. He's only seen Parker's face on the news, never in person, and that Spider-Man must have had at least a decade on this young man, but alternate realities being what they are, that doesn't mean he doesn't know Pietro. (Or know what Pietro did.) And that's something he'd rather find out sooner than later.

Which means striking up a conversation. He considers lobbing a snowball at his head instead, but satisfying as that may be... ]

Would you like a push?

[ He can gather what all that peering over the edge is about, ok. ]

[myresponsibility]

[To say Peter startles at the voice is maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but he does straighten up quickly to look at the stranger, and there's certainly no recognition in his expression as he looks him over.

He's reasonably certain he was just kidding, and that he'd be able to hang on and pull himself back up if he did decide to push him, but he's not really looking to see what happens when you actually go over the side, so he just grins a little and takes a half step away from the railing.]

I'm good. Thanks.

[supersonic]

[ Casually unnerving people is a hobby Pietro should probably enjoy less. He's internally relieved at the lack of recognition, though, and shrugs, like More's the pity, before leaning on the rail himself. ]

I am sure there are other ways to test it. Have you any theories yet?

[ Because trolling aside, he is actually curious about the view (...and whether it presents a potential means of escape, but. still.) ]

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[looksfine]

So it was a Flood. I suspected, but was not certain.

[Aya had been "asleep" for the very start, waking up to rather interesting conversations with a few of her closest friends. Given the circumstances at the time, she could not determine the precise reasons behind their unusual-but-not-that-unusual behaviors.]

They occur at least once per lunar month, at fairly regular invervals.

The effects..vary.

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[myresponsibility]

No, I know that's how often they usually happen, that's like, the third thing people talked to me about when I got here after "are you okay" and "why do you look like you got hit by a bus?". I'm asking specifically about floods like this one we just had.

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[looksfine]

My apologies. You should have been more specific in your request.

[Despite the choice of words, her voice is calm and rational. Not accusatory in any way.]

To my knowledge, this was the first.

[Private]

[lastrat]

I'm not going to shoot you. [Or answer the question. 8|]

[Private]

[myresponsibility]

Thanks. I'm sorry you got hit with it.

[Private]

[lastrat]

[Man he is just grunting at that because why the fuck are they talking about this B|]

You weren't. [Hit with it, so why were you being share-y, kid :c]

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[hungryanhorny]

Couple times a month. Guess the admiral's a pretty bad driver.

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[myresponsibility]

Yeah, I noticed that.

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[hungryanhorny]

You having problems?

[most_feared]

Floods along those lines usually happen two or three times a year. Floods in general once or twice a month.

[myresponsibility]

Are there any other ones that repeat like that?

[most_feared]

Animals. Kids.

There's a godawful one that has records of having twice. It's the "other" Barge. One where wardens are alternate versions and there to "corrupt" their inmates through abuse and manipulation.

Everyone kinda hates that one.

[surfaceshine]

[The deck is as far from Dean's favorite place on board as he can get, probably, but there comes a point in a man's life where old phobias simply don't get to have the power that they once did. If anything, he's learned that what someone is or isn't comfortable with doesn't mean jack squat around here; furthermore, it will probably even be used to hurt him or her. He doesn't have the stomach for most of what bothers him, maybe, but this he can fix.

So he's walking around up there every day now, and if he still seems tense, at least he can do it without help now, and at least he doesn't look pale anymore. When he spots Peter lobbing snowballs, he's about ready for a break from keeping himself distracted, so he digs his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather jacket, forces his shoulders down, and digs up a smirk.]

Pretty sure this is how that movie about the gods being crazy got started.

[myresponsibility]

[Peter stops and grins sort of sheepishly, because, well. He knows he looks kind of ridiculous, chucking snow balls off the deck, and it's pretty apparent he's got a very good arm while doing so, which isn't exactly sticking with the whole trying to keep a secret identity thing.

Not that it mattered, since there were apparently comic books about him. :|]

At least a snowball's less likely to kill someone on the way down. I mean, a Coke bottle falling on someone's head from that far? Pretty bad.

[surfaceshine]

[The sheepish grin gets an easy one in return from Dean; he gets it. He does. He's just never been interested enough in what's over the rail to actually, you know, look over it.

That's not going to change today, okay? Okay.

If Dean is aware that he's a comic book character, he's not showing it; fifty-fifty about the odds on that, though.]

Yeah, but you're still probably causing some kinda religious crisis somewhere. Some nutjob's prayin' for rain and gets smacked in the forehead by a slush ball. Good luck interpretin' that, shaman.

[Private]

[peektuttut]

I don't think I have to point out how lucky we were.

[Private]

[myresponsibility]

No kidding, last thing I need is to start running my mouth off about everything to everyone.

Did you know there are comic books about me?

[Private]

[peektuttut]

[What.] No. Seriously? Have you seen them?