starlogs | [open] i'm wishing on the death star

WHO: Dave Strider and OPEN
WHERE: All around Eluvio
WHEN: Various. Present time, mostly.
WHAT: Dave finding his bearings, muddling around and being a nuisance.
WARNINGS: naughty cussing

one: skating.
[Working at a Skateboard store as a clerk has almost little to no perks. People are annoying, nobody knows who Tony Hawk is and he sure as hell didn't sign up for this shit. The one perk Dave has found, is that taking merch from the store is not only allowed, it's encouraged. Why not be a mobile advertisement? What could go wrong?

Of course, Dave doesn't waste time with the snap back caps or the knee pads for toddlers, he just wants the board.

Admittedly, it's been a fucking eon since he legitimately rode one. But it's like riding a bike. Where the break is your foot and your bike is a wooden board that reaches Incredible Speeds. He's rusty enough that he feels self-conscious dicking around in the open. He's found a reasonably secluded part of the ship for practicing and he's picking it all up again pretty fast.

He starts getting cocky, working on tricks. Kick flips, heel flips, grinding, etc. Every so often, he nails it. Every so often, he fucks up spectacularly. God knows at which point someone could possibly happen upon him.]

two: cafeteria.
[The cafeteria is a source of great conflict for Dave. On the one hand, it is a bountiful harvest of delicious food. He's been deprived of decent, palatable food for so long he might as well be at a Lord's banquet every time he steps in there.

On the other hand, a niggling, awkward feeling gets his goat whenever he sees the herds of people in there. It's been so long since he's been around more than five people at a time, it's like he's developed some sort of meteor-deprived agoraphobia. He tries to slink in when there's less people around, but that tends to be difficult.

Dave doesn't realise he's chewing his lip as he looks upon the cafeteria. He has a tray with a large glass of apple juice, three cheeseburgers and an apple pie and a look of determination behind his shades. He scans for an empty table and realises, regretfully, that there isn't one. He'll have to take his chances with sitting at the end of a less occupied table.

He'll slink forward, set his tray on the opposite and furthest side of a table and take a seat. Nope. Not awkward at all.

Fuck man, say something.]

Sup?

three: space view.
[Being in space isn't the strangest part about this ordeal for Dave. He was in space before, assing around on a meteor propelling to some glorious location. The ship is a change, but the thing that bugs him out is the small, near impossible chance that the meteor might actually be in this universe. It's not like he wants to go back. Hell no. He just kind of wishes he could bring some of the contents of that meteor onto the ship.

Now, he's not about to go tug on the captain's sleeve and beg him to keep his eye out for a shitty chunk of rock. Hell, he's not even sure he'll keep the remotest of hopes up. For whatever reason (mostly boredom) he decides to be like the stupid-ass kid who leaves cookies out for santa and starts taping up calling cards.

That ought to do it.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Because Jason hates his job, he spends his time wandering as a mobile seller of lollipops. He knows it sounds fucking suspect as hell, but he's not all that pressed one way or the other. Either people want some candy or they don't. Honestly, he's probably three steps away from getting fired, but whatever. It's cool. Today, though, today is one of his wandering days and he's eating a blue lollipop that tastes like the ocean and regret when he happens upon some...

Well. Something.

He pulls one of the ~calling cards~ down and looks at it, not understanding what it means, but hella curious. Because, shit yeah, sounds like some sort of crazy conspiracy nut and he wants to hear these warnings that... he wasn't really warned about but might have been. Jason looks around, seeing if he can find any more of these that will hopefully lead him to the one behind it.

Of course, when he finally finds the perp, it's... not really what he expected. Whatever. He's still interested. ]

Yo. [ he holds the flyer up, shaking it a little. ] The fuck's up with this, man?

[It seems like job satisfaction is at an all time low around here. Hopefully soon they'll all rise up and seize the means of production, but for now it's to be endured.

Dave can smell the sweet, salty smell of regret before it addresses him personally. He's caught red-handed, really, because he still has a few copies in his hand.]

Sup. [Nonchalant. Effortless. He raises a brow and leans in, furrowing his brows and narrowing his eyes behind his shades before he straightens up and points at the flyer.] Looks like paper.

[ Jason just gives him kind of a blank look before shifting his gaze down to the other copies then back up to his face. ]

Yeah, no shit. Figured that out for myself.

[ But. He's curious, so. ]

What's it about, kid?

Flyers are used as a means to distribute a message to a surrounding area. [He nods knowingly.]

I dunno, I just wondered if enlightened beings might get a kick out of observing the Eluvio passing in all its glory and squinting up into the corners to see the face of modern art staring back at them. [It's a big fat lie, but this guy doesn't need to know that.]

[ Except he totally does know that because as a bullshit artist ( self-proclaimed ), he can smell another one a mile away.

Or, in this case, only a few feet away. ]

Dude, when you're done with your existential spewing of shit, I'll be here. You know, waiting for the real answer.

C'mon, dude. Are you a lollipop salesman or a therapist? You think I'm going to spill the beans without sitting my ass down on some sweet, leather couch and staring at the ceiling talking about my childhood for at least five sessions?

[Okay but he is being annoying and he should really just admit it and stop being vague and making it worse.] I'll tell you the truth for a cola flavoured one. No more, no less.

[ Well, he's got him there. Sort of. All Jason can do is laugh a little because what even. ]

Gotta say, man, not real interested about childhood woes.

[ But, okay, he digs around in his pocket and produces about four suckers that look like they might possibly be cola or some sort of facsimile of that... ]

No clue what any of these are since I guess having normal names is too fuckin' difficult. On you if you wanna try 'em.

You're not a good lollipop salesman or a therapist then. But good, because I don't have the time to trot out all the closeted childhood trauma. We could be here hours.

[Dave observes the suckers critically before he takes one and pockets it with a shrug. If it tastes like ass, he doesn't want to eat it in front of this guy.]

I got peeps in space. I'm trying to let them know I'm here. Can't exactly spray paint a message on the side of the ship, so I compromised.

[ Jason snorts a little derisively at that. ]

Yeah, no shit. I'm not either one.

[ And, quite frankly, it would be fucking terrifying if he was. No one wants Jason's help. ....Or suspicious candy. ]

Anyway; what? So you're not new to this whole space thing, then?

Shame they didn't just filter you into that line of work here, we could all use some more trauma. [So dryly.]

Hell no, I've been a galaxy immigrant for three years now. Primarily on a meteor with a bunch of alien compadres and my sister, but I've been to planets you've never heard of. Because they're retarded. [He shrugs.]

I take it this is your first time gyrating on man's great moon machine, then?

[open] i'm wishing on the death star

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