audio. un: barnes. (with bonus un: s.wilson)

[starer]

[It's shortly after the latest batch of new arrivals turn up that a post makes its way on to the network. But it's a little different to the usual information dump that Bucky's previously made. This time, the text is replaced with audio. And all thanks to a special guest...]

So Quill did the whole Halloween thing yesterday. That makes today November 1st, if we're going by Earth's calendar.

[Five months on this station already. Time flies, huh?]

Dusty's gone. Disappeared before the last mission. So if someone else wants to take over rationing, lists are in the file next to the fridge.

[Because who needs a segue when you can just get right down to business?

There’s a rustle of someone moving from nearby, the sound of a background voice drawing closer, words muffled around a yawn and finally becoming more clear, the Louisiana accent bleeding through a little more strongly than usual:]

… know how to put the fun in KP duty. What Grumplestiltskin over here is tryna explain is: We got no cook, but Bucky and I’ve been keeping inventory on food supplies. We been setting aside emergency supplies in case of surprise shutdowns and missed food shipments. Usually got more than enough food, so help yourself to whatever, we ain't controlling the supply, just keeping an eye.

Also not feeding the lot of you, but when grumples and I cook, there's gonna be extra for everyone to grab. Unless someone decides to start a food fight again. Don't look at me like that, you know what you did.

[There's an under the breath grumble of "You're the one who got batter all over my pants."]

We've also been keeping an inventory of everything that goes unclaimed after each drop. You can find it all at the end of the rec room. If you need anything, check the list on the wall. It'll save you time. Just mark off anything you take when you're done.

[Being responsible is the worst. Someone please take all of this over for them so he doesn't have to deal with Sam's disappointed face when he shirks his duties.]

Hey speaking of inventory, are you wearing my jacket? I swear if you do your 'look at me, I'm so cool' thing and rip the sleeve off…

Someone's borrowing mine.

[Because that explains everything, right?]

Looking for some volunteers. Sterile walls ain't exactly the most welcoming for some of the people here. [Especially if you're 14!] Steve's gone though, so I ain't exactly got access to an artist anymore. If there's anyone here with some ideas on how to brighten this place up, I got some stuff from the last drop that could help.

Trust me, I fixed a whole ass boat with him, the man’s surprisingly useless with a paintbrush. Never believe him when he claims to have gotten paint on you by accident. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.

[There's just a look thrown in Sam's direction. And then, right as the feed's about to cut, there's also one last comment.]

Changing your regret is possible. You decide to do it, make sure you're willing to foot the bill.

[And with that helpful warning, he's done.]


[ooc: Red is Sam. Blue is Bucky. Expect to be tagteamed (unless threads are made private ofc)]

Comments

[shadysided]

[Ziggy quiets with hesitation for a moment. For a number of reasons. Truth be told, she's had a hard time trying to be a normal person in the company of others; it's been a rollercoaster of sorts, and up-and-down of her feelings falling and rising and falling.

But the most obvious hurdle, for now:]

... I'll consider it. [Short, curt, an attempt to be aloof.] If the doctor lets me out of this boring hospital bed. He's already found me and dragged me back once already.

[unclesam]

[ Oh, she'll consider it. That's almost like a gold medal with a teenager. Sam will concede the point and accept victory for what it is. Humbly, with only internal bragging rights. ]

What are you laid up with?

[shadysided]

Ran into a cactus. Total bloodbath.

[She says it oh-so-dryly. Maybe a touch tiredly, too.]

[unclesam]

Well, that's your problem right there. Cacti are assholes.

[ A touch of softness in his tone. Not pity, no. Just hears the touch of something tired. ]

What's your favorite kinda ice cream? C'mon, I'll sneak you some.

[shadysided]

Lesson learned there.

[It'd be pretty easy for her to say she'd rather not, no thanks. But compared to the food she's eating right now... the bland jello stuff??? Ice cream would be pretty cool. (Your sister's dead, and you're wanting ice cream? she thinks, What the hell is wrong with you? How can you pretend anything'll ever be okay?) She runs a hand through her hair and realizes she's gone quiet.]

... Rocky Road.

Do they even make anything other than that gross freeze-dried astronaut ice cream out here?

[unclesam]

Nope. They import.

[ No seriously. ]

Hang in there. I'll be right over for the rescue.

[ It takes a second longer than to just grab the ice cream. He's gonna bring a soft peanut butter sandwich, too, a small carton of chocolate milk, and an orange - peeled and sliced. He doesn't know the extent of her sickness or injuries, but either way having options to help her build up her strength isn't too bad. Screw jello in hospitals - the kid needs something to build up strength, too.

And so Sam shows up with the requested ice cream and some additional treats. ]

Delivery for Stardust?

[ And he keeps his tone light - but damn, she looks like shit. ]

[shadysided]

[The sickly teen looks over from where she's propped up; the only sign of injury on her that's clear from the get-go are the purple bruises that have since developed starkly on her neck. She certainly doesn't look like someone who ran into a cactus; I know, I know, you had believed her fully, right?

She combs a hand through a shock of red hair, smoothing it back as she notes the... overabundance of food.]

... It's Ziggy, actually.

[Which is practically the same thing, huh?]

That looks like an awful lot, to just be rocky road.

[unclesam]

Clever. I like it.

[ His speed is more Marvin Gaye than David Bowie, but he's not gonna knock a legend.

The bruises don't go unnoticed, and Sam can't help the way his brain assesses, clinica. Can't help the rush of protectiveness. Someone put their hands on this child, and there's a lot about that that don't sit right with him. But right here and now, she's been patched up, and she doesn't need him to grill her on the details of her trauma. ]

Dunno what you're talking about. Also if you rat me out to the doc, I'll mix jello into the next batch of rocky road I smuggle you. Fair warning.

[ Why is delivering food to gremlins his current lot in life? He cares too much, clearly. ]

I'll have you know this is authentic astronaut food, on account it's being served here. Welcome to space.

[shadysided]

[She scoffs, a terribly small but verifiable smile crossing her face.]

I'm not a rat. And I definitely won't change that if it screws up perfectly good ice cream.

[But the smile slides away just as quickly.]

... Still trying to process the fact that you're not lying when you say 'welcome to space'; the first guy to do that was only two years before I was born.

[unclesam]

[ Sam blinks slowly. ]

Wait. You were born in 1963?

[ Assuming she actually means the first man in space, not the moon landing. Another slow blinks. ]

You were born 15 years before me?

[ Fuck that. ]

[shadysided]

[Difficult as smiling has been, she at least offers him some ghost of one.

Better than nothing, at the moment.]

What, so you're from the future? 21st century and everything?