( creative title goes here )

[rumbling]

WHO: maine ( rumbling ) + you
WHERE: random places on the ship
WHEN: throughout the day on dec 11
WHAT: idek
WARNINGS: nothing at this time, will update if necessary!


( ATRIUM )

[ He can't say he ever expected to be in space again. Not after everything that's happened. Hell, he wasn't even expecting to see land again. But, shit changes and life is often unpredictable. And now here he is. Apparently living aboard another ship, traveling through space like he has some sort of purpose. Maine doesn't know what that purpose even is. And after dealing with Project Freelancer and all the bullshit the Director did, he's not really inclined to believe he has some purpose with some faceless crew in the middle of outerspace.

Trust issues? You bet.

After orientation and locating his bunk ( it's all so goddamn familiar but so different ), he sets out to get the lay of the ship. Though Maine did give a few moments of hesitation in whether he should wear his armor or not on the friendly walk-about, he decides against it. Instead he swings by the first store he sees and purchases a few different clothing items; the charcoal grey hoodie is put on before he even pays for it, hoodie up and not suspicious at all.

After exploring certain areas, he winds up in the atrium. It's... nice, in certain ways. Something that probably would've been nice to have on the Mother of Invention. Eventually he settles on a bench by one of the ponds and—are those ducks? Weird that this place has animals just wandering around. They waddle and quack their way over and Maine gives a threatening rumbling noise in return. It doesn't deter them, however, and the next thing he knows, he has a bag of breadcrumbs and ducks all over, eating and quacking happily, even going so far as to join him on the bench in their quest for more.

This is not going as planned. And who the hell gave him this bag of bread, anyway?! ]

( TRAINING ROOM )

[ Later on towards whatever counts as evening in this ship, Maine hits the gym. At this point it's completely necessary to work off some pent up aggression. It's not that he's mad or anything, but there's just some shit he needs to work through and being trapped around all these people isn't doing much to stave off the aggression levels.

So, he's going to take it out on some punching bags. And the weight machines. Probably the pool, too. Want to race? Let's go, buddy. Eventually, though, if anyone is milling around the boxing ring, he's going to gesture to himself, to them and then to the ring. Wanna go a few rounds? ]

( ETC. )

( feel free to throw anything my way or get me on plurk ( honnleath ) if you want to discuss sth specific!! )

Comments

[sixth]

[ So. Epsilon's going to be a touchy subject all around, Wash thinks as Maine's expression changes. It doesn't worry him, exactly, but he makes a mental note to keep mentions of any of the AI to a minimum until he can figure out...

Until he can figure all of this shit out.

Thinking it better to just move on from the subject as quickly as possible, he hurries into an explanation. ]

We got separated. The Reds and Blues went to confront Hargrove. Me and Carolina stayed planet-side to fight off the Mantis army he dropped on us. [ He frowns a little, nearly grimacing. It sounds like a damn movie. Two former Freelancers and some poorly trained soldiers going up against a robot army. How all the crazy shit keeps happening to him, he just doesn't know. ] We weren't dead yet, so...

[ Wash shrugs. It says something unflattering about his life that he can make this kind of assessment. He knows it. But there it is. ]

I'm taking that as a win.

[rumbling]

[ He could wish it wasn't so. That they could discuss Freelancer and the AI program and have it not Be An Issue. But it's going to be an issue until Maine can somehow work through all this crap. If he can. ( Maybe he should see someone about that here... )

Hearing about what's going on back... there—it's not home, really. Maine doesn't even know what that means anymore—makes him feel a little uneasy. Not that Carolina is useless in a fight ( she wouldn't have constantly been number one or so if she wasn't ). Not that Wash is, either. He remembers how much he was underestimated. Wash is crafty, though. People never really gave him credit for that. But. Well. It just makes him feel uneasy. They're not a team anymore, haven't been for a while. But it was still Maine's job to take the brunt of the fight. Now Wash is there with only Carolina as back-up. Maine can't know that she's changed a little, so it only annoys him that she'll be looking out for herself and not having Wash's back like she should.

He doesn't really want to talk about that anymore. So, he shifts the conversation slightly; You stayed with those sims? ]

[sixth]

[ Wash doesn't mind that the conversation moves on to another topic. The sims, dysfunctional disaster that they are, are easier to discuss than Freelancer and its assorted tragedies.

He makes a face, a little bit sheepish and a lot resigned. One shoulder twitches in a shrug. ]

Yeah. Didn't really have anywhere else to go. And I'm pretty sure the UNSC would have arrested me if they hadn't thought I was dead.

[ Whether they still think that after Epsilon's broadcast of the Chorus fiasco, Wash doesn't know. It's possible they think he's just another sim trooper, which is a blow to his dignity but still better than being imprisoned. Again. ]

They're not so bad. Usually. [ Oh, who the fuck is he kidding. He sighs. ] Sometimes.

[rumbling]

[ It's a strange feeling that comes over him then. Maine doesn't really know how to explain it, just that there's something sitting there in his chest like a pit. Something heavy and loaded and he doesn't like it. Maybe if he did have a word for it, he'd be able to better figure out how to handle it. Instead it just weighs him down and will fester in the back of his mind like everything else he doesn't want to think about.

For a few long moments, he doesn't say anything. He just stands there quietly assessing everything and figuring out what he wants to say. If he wants to say anything at all. He could just walk away. There's no obligation to continue the conversation or have any interaction with Wash at all. He hates that he thinks that, but, it's not the first time. He's trying, though, to remember the human parts of himself. That's hard.

Everything is so goddamn hard.

He shifts from one foot to the other, lifting a hand and running his fingers over his chin. A breath is exhaled. Good you found a place for yourself.

That's the best he can do. ]

[sixth]

[ Yeah, so hey. Remember those guys you tried to kill a bunch of times? I decided to hang out with them. Become their leader. No big deal. It's awkward. Even in Wash's head it's awkward and no matter how he says it, he knows that's probably how it sounds.

This is such a goddamn mess.

He feels tired and so much older than he is. If there's a right thing to say here, he doesn't know what it is. He can't tell if Maine's going to stay or go or what it is he wants him to do. Or what it is he should want him to do.

And once he responds, Wash knows that he ought to let it go. Grunt, shrug, and move on. Except this isn't Carolina. He's had so much invested in Maine, he can't just brush it all aside. ]

I didn't. [ The Reds and Blues are all right. Wash cares about them. But they aren't family. His place isn't with them. It probably never will be. ] But it's good enough. Freelancer taught me that sometimes, that's the best we can ask for.

[rumbling]

[ Okay, so. This is going well.

It's going well, which means it's going terribly. Maine still doesn't really know how to feel. Only that whatever Wash is implying is likely not what Maine is thinking. Because he's thinking something not so good. And he doesn't know how to take how that makes him feel. Not knowing how to feel ( on top of suddenly being alive again and finding he's trapped in space with Wash again ) is only throwing all of his thoughts into chaos. He probably shouldn't be out here anymore.

Probably shouldn't be near Wash anymore. He could say he wasn't ready for this, but people aren't ever ready to be blindsided.

The sound he makes is mostly irritable, but it's not at Wash. Freelancer taught a lot of shit.

Because that's what it was. Shit. And thinking about it, Wash, the sims... It's not making for a pleasant mix. Maine doesn't really want to stick around and needs to find some place he can destroy something. He flexes his fingers before jamming both hands into the pockets of the hoodie. Everything in him tells him to just walk away from this and don't even look back. But, he doesn't want to leave on a sour note. So; Seen a gym around here? ]

[sixth]

[ Even now, Wash can tell when Maine's getting restless. When he's going to need to go do something, especially something destructive, to work off the energy. As far as he can tell, there aren't any overt enemies here. No dangers. Nothing for Maine to take his aggression out on properly. But there are other ways to tire oneself out and Wash is familiar with working out until the body and mind are too exhausted to continue.

So it's not surprising when the question comes. Maybe there's a part of him that wishes Maine would stay here longer, but it's a childish part of him that doesn't want to acknowledge what they've become.

He knows it's better if they take this slowly. ]

Yeah. There's a whole gymnasium.

[ He gives directions to the place as best he can. And since his memory's the way it is, that means his best is pretty damn good. There are feelings bubbling up inside him, pestering to be recognized, but he ignores them, offering Maine a faint lopsided smile. ]

Try not to break all their equipment already, okay?

[rumbling]

[ Honestly everyone on the ship will be lucky if there's any equipment left by the time Maine is done. He's getting that buzzing sort of feeling moving through his body. His veins tremble with it. His muscles vibrate with it. It's that itch that tells him he needs to get this energy out or else. And no one—including Maine himself—wants to deal with the or else.

A weight machine is definitely getting broken today. Maybe a punching bag, too.

He chews on the inside of his cheek for a split second and tries not to commit that lopsided smile to memory. ( It doesn't work. He does. And he'll be thinking about it while pounding the shit out of that punching bag. ) He breathes then nods with a noise of affirmation; No promises.

Because he can't promise that and he knows Wash knows that. Wash will probably also figure it out pretty quick the path of destruction Maine leaves behind. He looks at Wash again for one long moment, feeling like he should say something but ultimately in the end, he just doesn't. A hand lifts slightly in a farewell and then he turns and just heads off in the direction Wash indicated.

On the upside, hey, he might sleep well tonight after literally obliterating all his energy. ]