Re-Entry 10: Text/Voice/Spam

[itstopped]

[Private Text to "Wasp"]

I hear you have a talent for finding information.

[Private Text to Merlin]

I changed my mind. I'd like to know who it was.

[Private Voice to Morgana]

I need to talk to you.

[Spam for Narvin]

[Felix has practically been living at the lab lately, both before and after the port -- in fact, probably now more than ever, more or less only leaving to move to the engine room or take five minutes for a meal or a shower. It's late, at the end of Narvin's day, when he approaches the Time Lord, looking hesitant.]

Narvin?

[This whole thing is about trust, and he doesn't trust Narvin... but in this case, that works to his benefit, because he already knows he doesn't trust Narvin.] I wondered if I could ask a favor of you.

[Spam for Racetrack]

[Part of the reason for his sabbatical from social living is her. He said he'd stay out of her way, and he meant it. He's really tried to... But it's a small ship, and there are only so many ways to avoid someone, which is how on one of his rare trips to the mess he winds up standing right next to her on the line.]

Comments

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Narvin pauses in his note taking and fixes Felix with an inquiring gaze.]

I would have to know what the favour is before I could make any promises. [Curious as he is, he's still cautious.]

[Spam]

[itstopped]

[Of course he is. That's good. Felix moves in a little closer, not trying to get in Narvin's personal space, but not wanting anyone else to hear this. He lowers his voice, eyes on the work table in front of them.]

I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Narvin, but if I were to ask you how many people on this ship you have files on... would you tell me the truth?

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[Narvin recognizes the body language of secrecy and turns to listen and put himself between Felix and the door to keep anyone from observing, all while casually picking up a few of the instruments left on the table as if they were just talking lab business, checking the instruments for accuracy or broken parts perhaps.]

I would tell you honestly that I have files on everyone on the Barge. Some are more extensive than others. Why do you ask?

[Spam]

[itstopped]

[This is a language he speaks, too, and he follows the fake interchange easily, tapping a set of notes on the table in front of them.]

Because I'd like to see a few of them.

[Spam]

[timesbureaucrat]

[It both pleases Narvin that Felix falls into the patterns of conspiracy so naturally (it certainly makes it easier to keep secrets), and makes him cautious. People who are good at duplicitousness are not to be trusted, as Narvin well knows.]

In that case I'll need to know whose files you wish to see and what you're willing to trade for the information.

[Private]

[youwillgotohell]

What is it?

[Private]

[itstopped]

Can we meet? My cabin is empty. [And private, he means, and more trustworthy than the network.] I'll be there in ten minutes.

[Private]

[youwillgotohell]

Of course. I'll meet you there.

[Spam]

[itstopped]

[True to his word, he peels himself away from the lab to wait for her, in his crappy little hotel room with the eight-sided trappings of home, the hatch propped temporarily open for her. He looks kind of like hell, not only in the wake of Silent Hill but in the wake of his reaction to it; even when he's not allowed in the lab or engine room he usually finds a way to be doing some work, and now that Dean and he have somewhat reconciled there's always Maintenance to do. There's a lot to do and a lot of time to fill with things that aren't sleeping or thinking.

He has a bottle ready, two drinks already poured.]

[Spam]

[youwillgotohell]

[The town didn't come for her, and she's been having an easier time of dealing with it. She looks well enough, and better than him, at least, when she slips through his door and closes the hatch behind her.

Spotting the drinks, her eyes swivel to him, eyebrows raised in silent question. How bad is it?]

private text;

[dr4gontatt00]

I may.

private text;

[itstopped]

And if someone needed you to find some for them?

private text;

[dr4gontatt00]

it could be done. though I would need some incentive.

private text;

[itstopped]

Like what?

private text;

[dr4gontatt00]

a favor in the future, maybe. or significant information in return. Items I can't get myself.

what are you looking for?

Private/Text

[takeyouapart]

As long as it's alright that I confirm to them on whose behalf I asked. I don't think they know for sure.

Private/Text

[itstopped]

Seriously? [He can't help but ask, because as much as he'd like to maintain his own anonymity, it's pretty obvious to him.]

Private/Text

[takeyouapart]

[It might be text but the shrug can be inferred.]

I don't think everyone necessarily keeps tabs on how many legs everyone else has.

Private/Text

[itstopped]

Then fine. Tell them. You have my permission.

[It's obviously not anyone he's even close to knowing, which makes things even stranger.]

Do you know why they did it? [He's already asked a lot of questions about it. Nervous and panicky before the needle went into his arm, he'd asked everything he could think of: was it safe, how it worked, would it leave any side-effects behind, and so on. This is one he hadn't.]

Private/Text

[takeyouapart]

She's done it before, for other people on board. She just likes to be able to use her ability to help people when she can.

Her name is Claire Bennet.

spam

[landfall]

[ Oh great.

This is just what she needed.

All right, clearing her throat and standing up straight, and - small talk is a go. ]

Least the food here's not bad, right?

spam

[itstopped]

[You don't have to do this, he thinks privately, a little bitterly, flashing back to all those meals eaten alone in the Galactica mess. But she's making an effort, so he makes himself make one too, even if his eyes stay on his tray.]

Don't let Riddick hear you say that. I think not bad is an insult to him.

spam

[landfall]

Right. Yeah.

[ She turns away and focuses her attention back on the trays. Awkwardly. ]

Maybe I just don't have many taste buds left.

spam

[itstopped]

That's what I said. After all that crap on Galactica... [Yup, he's still talking to his tray, too.]

spam

[landfall]

We might as well not have tongues.

[ Wow, Racetrack, that was actually kind of gross.

She stares down at the food, her mouth twisting. ]