Liver implant prevents any poor decisions on my part. So I can afford to be. A chef tastes their dishes before serving, a bartender knows their drinks by taste down to the measure. It's chemistry.
[ a softer look, their brow furrows. ]
The -
[ there's a sharp shudder, the lights in the bar tremble. the machine in front of them says "C-L-COMP" like it's been hazily redacted. thebe pauses a minute, their hand empty for a second, the next, there is a cigarette glitching suddenly betwene their knuckles. ]
You can call me Thebe. [ is that the answer he wanted? probably not! ]
[ oh that's okay. they just lean down and grab a pair of bottles of wine off the rack, pulling a bottle opener out of a pocket on their outfit. don't ask me where. it's somewhere. ]
Poor, getting poorer. Back hurts like sin. Red or white, monsieur?
[ the pronunciation is perfect, it's but a word. in any case, they take a moment while pouring whichever one he opts for. i leave whether he gets to actually drink it up to you because this is but a dream. ]
This seems promising. That you can reach us somehow.
[thebe... you're so cute.... scien does not think this but i, dana, do.]
Red.
[the way that i need to flip a coin on if he gets drunk because he's a one drink wonder.... maybe toward the end of this thread,]
It's a start. Though I wouldn't be surprised if not all of it sticks when you wake, given how that would be far too convenient. Rather, I don't trust many memories to be reliable here.
[ open it goes. thebe pours a glance as requested and sets the bottle to the side. ]
Dreams have the tendency to do that. But let's see how much will stick...?
[ they pull up a beer and crack it open. they look down for a moment. it's this kind of talk, huh? they've migrained themself enough over it. ]
20 others. Plus the eight of us? 28.
[ funfortunate fact dana: i realize that i fucked up and gave you the wrong number of crew when scien asked because my paws were so fuckin sweaty on day one :face_holding_back_tears: outs myself I MEANT TO SAY 28 total NOT 20 total........... ]
[ thebe gives a long pause at this, but it's almost a pause in the way of... taking a moment to briefly dissociate. there's a twinge to the brow, sudden, pulling and indicative of some kind of pain. scien's a fucking weirdo scientist so i can give this to him easily i think. thebe seems to try to push it away, flicking open a lighter and putting it to the cigarette between their fingers. ]
Retirement... [ softly, another wince, but they grit their teeth a little, smoke blowing sharply to the side. ] Callsign Quicksilver...
[ looking upwards as a television in dream flickers. a girl with a short bob and open, innocent eyes wiggles her fingers at thebe, before the commercial goes back to advertising a special deal. cup ramen, 59.99. a news broadcast that's too hazy to make out with white figures firing rifles by the sounds of it.
leaning back. ]
I... can't even remember the name over the door...
I am always prepared to be locked out of my own system again, and it's why I expect the others to incapacitate or kill me again. I would rather be removed than made a puppet who can't recognize myself.
Though for as long as I'm here and can tell that my actions are stable and align with my principles... I will make the most of my intellect and resources.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Liver implant prevents any poor decisions on my part. So I can afford to be. A chef tastes their dishes before serving, a bartender knows their drinks by taste down to the measure. It's chemistry.
[ a softer look, their brow furrows. ]
The -
[ there's a sharp shudder, the lights in the bar tremble. the machine in front of them says "C-L-COMP" like it's been hazily redacted. thebe pauses a minute, their hand empty for a second, the next, there is a cigarette glitching suddenly betwene their knuckles. ]
You can call me Thebe. [ is that the answer he wanted? probably not! ]
no subject
A glance of wine then, Chief Science Officer. Whatever you enjoy most.
[he's not calling them thebe]
Your status since we last met?
[literally since the beginning... help me]
no subject
Poor, getting poorer. Back hurts like sin. Red or white, monsieur?
[ the pronunciation is perfect, it's but a word. in any case, they take a moment while pouring whichever one he opts for. i leave whether he gets to actually drink it up to you because this is but a dream. ]
This seems promising. That you can reach us somehow.
no subject
Red.
[the way that i need to flip a coin on if he gets drunk because he's a one drink wonder.... maybe toward the end of this thread,]
It's a start. Though I wouldn't be surprised if not all of it sticks when you wake, given how that would be far too convenient. Rather, I don't trust many memories to be reliable here.
How many do you remember being on your last tour?
no subject
Dreams have the tendency to do that. But let's see how much will stick...?
[ they pull up a beer and crack it open. they look down for a moment. it's this kind of talk, huh? they've migrained themself enough over it. ]
20 others. Plus the eight of us? 28.
[ funfortunate fact dana: i realize that i fucked up and gave you the wrong number of crew when scien asked because my paws were so fuckin sweaty on day one :face_holding_back_tears: outs myself I MEANT TO SAY 28 total NOT 20 total........... ]
no subject
Any history of accidents or abrupt deaths on the ship? Who was the Chief Science Officer before you? What happened to them at the end of the tour?
no subject
Retirement... [ softly, another wince, but they grit their teeth a little, smoke blowing sharply to the side. ] Callsign Quicksilver...
no subject
... Do you still trust yourself?
no subject
[ looking upwards as a television in dream flickers. a girl with a short bob and open, innocent eyes wiggles her fingers at thebe, before the commercial goes back to advertising a special deal. cup ramen, 59.99. a news broadcast that's too hazy to make out with white figures firing rifles by the sounds of it.
leaning back. ]
I... can't even remember the name over the door...
no subject
it's familiar enough - after dahut died, he didn't trust himself either. none of his own logic added up.]
And what do you hope to do about it?
no subject
[ another long drag. the lights flicker briefly. genuine, letting out a long trail of smoke. a heavy sigh: ]
What about you...? Are you able to trust yourself again...? After whatever the hell happened that day?
no subject
Not entirely.
I am always prepared to be locked out of my own system again, and it's why I expect the others to incapacitate or kill me again. I would rather be removed than made a puppet who can't recognize myself.
Though for as long as I'm here and can tell that my actions are stable and align with my principles... I will make the most of my intellect and resources.