inhell | 3rd Attack . voice, spam

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3rd Attack . voice, spam

[ spam - kitchen/breakfast ]

[ She's on the breakfast shift now. Expect Vegemite, thick slabs of bacon, fried tomatoes, and muesli. Also a somewhat eerie blank expression - work like this is really good for letting her turn off her mind. ]

[ voice ]

It was me. Um. The kitchen.

I don't know if anyone was caught in the explosion. Or if the people around were OK.

..well. Most of you I wouldn't care much.

[ One of Ellie's main skills is not apologizing.

After a moment, she cuts the feed. ]

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[Without her bus and its little kitchen, Iris is turning up for meals in the mess hall; almost a first in her year on the Barge. She disdains to notice the existence of such a thing as muesli, debates the fried tomatoes briefly before moving past them, and alights with great enthusiasm on the bacon, which she assembles into thick-cut sandwiches with fried eggs, dripping with butter, yolk and bacon grease.]

Morning Ellie love. Got any brown sauce?

Edited 2013-11-02 12:43 (UTC)

[ She gives the sandwich a stare, and then looks up at Iris. ]

You put any more sauce on that and your sandwich'll be going for a swim.

[Iris grins.]

Got to keep me strength up. Is that a no or are you just editorialising me breakfast?

[She pulls a piece of bacon rind in half and hands a piece to each of the German Shepherds behind her; Elvis and Solace, unlike Iris, appear to be vaguely aware of the prejudice about pets in food serving areas, and are clinging close to her sides as though to make themselves less conspicuous.]

You'll spoil 'em.

[ Regarding the dogs. She pulls out a bottle of brown sauce, and hands it to Iris. ]

Dogs need discipline.

[She covers the sandwich with a precarious quantity of sauce and sits at the breakfast bar to eat it. She adroitly avoids dripping anywhere except on her plate and fingers, and doesn't answer till she's chewed and swallowed the first bite with an expression of unrestrainedly joyful greed.]

I plan to, aye. They need a bit of spoiling, poor lads, and R- certain other people won't let me.

[The dogs are watching, with quietly confident hope.]

...I find they're pretty good as long as I tell 'em what I want. They want to do right. It's 'eartbreaking, in a way.

[ She leans on her elbows. Half-willing to have some conversation, even if she's not sure she likes Iris even a little bit. ]

That's why I like sheep better. They live their own lives. Not so eager to please.

[This comment interests Iris, even though she's not sure what to make of it. She's really never considered sheep at all except in the conceptual or the roasted-with-mint-sauce sense, and she tilts her head as she does so now.]

Can't say they ever struck me as paragons of independent thinking. Don't they tend to just go with the majority?

[ She shakes her head. ] No - if they were really like everyone thinks, you wouldn't need dogs to herd 'em, would you?

Nah, sheep have really good survival skills. People don't appreciate it.

[ She has strong feelings on the matter. ]

[Iris nods, hands each dog a crust of baconsoaked bread and starts in on her second sandwich.]

I s'pose that's true enough, your 'erbivores usually are. I've not 'ad a lot to do with sheep. Only time I were ever in Australia was a long time before there were any. Mostly rainforest, back then.

Edited 2013-11-02 14:40 (UTC)

[ Ellie stares, flatly. ]

What was that, the Cretaceous?

[ She doesn't believe Iris. ]

[If Iris senses the disbelief (spoiler: she does) she appears not to notice.]

Aye, thereabouts. Lady I were knocking about with at the time wanted a breeding pair of Australovenator. Bit like a miniature T-Rex, those, but with nicer temperaments and blue feathers.

[ Ellie stares, again, for a long moment, and then just lets her face fall into her hands. ]

I give up.

[Iris chuckles, throaty and cheerful.]

I'm not even the only timetraveller on board, Ellie love; you'll get used to it. 'Ey, remind me when you graduate, I'll take you for a tour if you like. Can always use someone with 'er 'ead screwed on that knows 'er way round improvised explosives.

[And then she remembers, and her face falls.]

...well. I don't 'ave me own ship right now. But I'll get 'er back.

You're the worst time traveler.

[ This is her firm opinion. ]

And I don't know that much.

'Cause you're an expert on time travel as well as sheep.

Fine, suit yourself. Not like I can't blow things up without 'elp when I need to, girl.

You seem like the explosions sort.

Depends 'ow much tequila I've put away.

[ A little flinch. ] Is everybody here drunk all the time?

[That catches her attention, and she regards Ellie with an opaquely cool grey gaze for a split second longer than strictly necessary before she speaks.]

Oooh no, lovey. Babs doesn't drink, for one, so I don't drink round 'er. Megamind doesn't 'ardly drink so you'd notice. Plenty of other ways to relax. That's one reason I took the spa over. I ought to encourage folk a bit more.

[ Her posture is a little tight, now. Hunched. ]

It just doesn't seem that fun to me. Get dizzy and then get sick all over everything.

[ She can't even tell anymore if she hates it because of Chris or because of the party. Maybe both. ]

[If they were closer - if they were close at all, Iris would pat Ellie's shoulder, even hug her. She doesn't, but her voice softens.]

No, well, plenty of folk don't like it. You don't 'ave to, sweetheart.

[She almost says no one here's going to make you, and then stops. She's not sure, but that might be Ellie's sore spot; she's seen that hunched posture from Bea, from Rogue. (From herself, from a time Iris chooses not to remember.)
It's not a promise Iris can make, not for the Barge as a whole. So she doesn't try to make it. She merely resolves to keep an eye out.]

I think your sandwich might be drowning.

[ This topic is dangerous. It brings up all kinds of anger, memories and things that Ellie can't let herself feel. ]

[This is Iris' own tried and tested trauma management technique, and she goes along with it gladly.

She's noticed. She'll be watching out for Ellie. But she won't raise it again.]

I ever tell you about the time we 'ad to clear a flock of velociraptors out of the London Underground?

Did they have blue feathers, too?

Orange and white. Crests like cockatoos. Pretty little buggers. Not very conducive to running an efficient urban public transport system, though.

[Iris may be inventing this tale out of whole cloth, or it may be perfectly true. Sometimes she's not even sure herself.]

Well, I were working for MIAOW at the time, so when you've got a spacetime anomaly spewing dinosaurs all over the Bakerloo line, narurally they called me in. Oooh, we 'ad a right old time rounding 'em up.

3rd Attack . voice, spam

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