thelastvoyages // inbox 1.0

[undisguised]

You've reached Edward Deegan. Or... almost, anyway. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I'm able.

Comments

About half an hour after Tess shot him - text

[stand_unshaken]

Hey. Deegan, if you get a moment to get back to me, I would be much obliged.

This is Tess' warden. Arthur Morgan.

text, roughly ten to fifteen minutes later

[undisguised]

Hey. I appreciate you reaching out. I've got time now.

[Edward hasn't been out of the infirmary -- and back in his cabin -- for long. He's feeling worn a little thin from the blood loss, but he doesn't want to wait to deal with this.]

[stand_unshaken]

[Polite. Granted, the message he'd sent out to the Barge had been pretty down-to-earth, in a way Arthur appreciated.]

Been to the infirmary yet?

[undisguised]

Yeah. In and out, all taken care of. Leg's fine, so if this is a talk you want to do in person, we can make that happen.

[And luckily there's no one to get onto him about it.]

[stand_unshaken]

Sure. Before that, though, I'd like to know if you are at all likely to return this favor, so to say.

How do you tell a guy you never met sorry you got shot in the leg, but my inmate is freaking out and I think she deserves not to get shot in turn? You just can't.

the lounge // for iris

[undisguised]

Edward's first thought when he'd seen the lounge was that the bar looked like it'd make for good cover in a firefight.

His second thought was that if he was lucky, it wouldn't come up.

Usually, when Edward wants a drink, he also wants quiet. But there's something to be said about people watching -- Or, not even that, but simply sitting in an area absorbing the ambient social energy. It's what he's in the mood for tonight, and isn't against the idea if someone comes up to chat. So instead of settling in with a beer and a book in his cabin, Edward makes himself comfortable on a stool with a lowball of bourbon and sits facing the rest of the lounge, with that sturdy bar at his back.

Re: the lounge // for iris

[routemistress]

Iris, on the other hand, never wants quiet, and she's had an eye out for opportunities to talk to the passengers she hasn't met yet. Edward has made a good first impression on the network, and she grins when she sees him. Then she brings herself and her gin sling to come and sit beside him.

"'Ey Edward. I'm Iris, I work 'ere - the Barge, I mean, not the bar. My inmate does that. You settling in all right? 'Ow do you like it so far?

[undisguised]

Paying attention the way he is, he notices the small woman making his way towards her. Her face isn't familiar, but he nods to her in greeting all the same as she approaches, and turns her way a little in his stool when she sits next to him. But once she speaks, he recognizes her instantly. Her voice is distinctive, and Connor cited her in his graduation document.

"It's good to meet you, Iris." It's a casual social setting, so it's easy to ignore the urge to offer a handshake. Still, that's not enough to stifle the reflexive politeness: "Well enough, thank you." And it's an answer that works for both of her questions.

"I'll admit there are parts of the job I'm still unclear on, but aside from that, I don't have any complaints so far."

[routemistress]

A noticeable thing about Iris is that she, too, is paying extremely close attention. Edward's face makes it tricky to read expressions, but on the other hand his condition gives him a stripped-down effect that makes posture and muscle shifts much clearer. She likes that, as she likes the open friendliness in his body language and the flash of amused recursion when their eyes meet: watching you watching me watching ad infinitum.

Her own body language is reminiscent of a friendly Golden Retriever, as if she might at any moment either climb into someone's lap or take off after a ball; though for the moment she keeps her hands busy with her drink.

"That's sort of baked into the design, actually. I mean, the unclarity. It's sort of the point of this place that we 'ave to work out for ourselves exactly who we are and where we stand. It's a lot of why it attracts the people it does: they're either the ones that really need to learn that urgently or the ones that know it in their bones. You look like option two to me."

[ukan]

Lark has dinner shift obligations but he comes to lunch shift because he knows Edward is helping out. When they're done, his usual might chatter mellows.

"Hey, do you have somewhere to be right now?"

[undisguised]

Lunch hasn't been a shift he's helped out on much up until now. It's been a nice change of pace -- the task itself isn't new, but it's enough of a shake-up to his schedule that it settles something in him. He's used to having more variety in his day-to-day, and politics (social and Barge alike) aside, the monotany of a stable schedule has been rankling him more than he'd realized.

It isn't uncommon for Lark to invite him out to something, even if it's just to chat in his cabin. But something about Lark's demeanor, combined with what's been going on lately, makes Edward suspect this is going to be something more than just shooting the shit. "Not especially. What did you have in mind?"

[ukan]

Other people might not have Lark's hearing, but he's still aware of them and it's going to make serious talk impossible for him.

"A coffee in my cabin? I just want to get your thoughts on some things."

[undisguised]

"Sure." Said easily, like it really is just any other day. Even if Edward didn't know him at all, he'd be able to pick up on that confirmation of his hunch. Polite and professional is his trade language. "I could use the pick-me-up."

Private video

[ukan]

Do you have a minute?

[undisguised]

Sure. What's up?

[ukan]

I wanted to run some long term ideas by you.

[undisguised]

[That makes Edward sit up straighter. He's settled on the couch in his bedroom, phone propped up on the side table and a book open in his lap. But now he (almost folds the page corner, catches himself, and instead) places a scrap of paper between the pages and closes the book.]

Yeah, I've got the time.

[negative_man]

You want a beer?

[undisguised]

Yeah. Could do with something stronger, honestly. Can still bring beer by, though, if you want.

[negative_man]

Sure. Bring both.

[It's not a great idea, given that his situation has made him all but an involuntary teetotaler, and probably a lightweight, but... fuck it. He can live with a hangover. And Edward will stop him from doing something really stupid like going outside.]

[undisguised]

[When Edward arrives, he has a six pack in one hand and a bottle of good whiskey in the other. He knocks with a steel-toed boot.]

july 7 // action spam // thread TW: nuclear apocalypse, radiation sickness

[undisguised]

[cont'd]

[Location decided, Edward settles on the bench, stretching one leg out in front of him. He offers the bottle of scotch to Norton.]

Not really. More like a clear and sunny morning. Started out that way, anyway. Then came the bombs.

[pharadyne]

Bombs like the Blitz? But the Germans usually came at night to make it more difficult to intercept their bombers.

[By 1954, there was no longer rubble in the streets, and the worst of the bombed houses had been cleared away and replaced with prefabricated temporary homes, but there were some bombed out shells, less damaged than the others, still standing.]

[undisguised]

Worse than the Blitz. Technology'd advanced by 2077 to where countries could launch missiles at each other from across the globe without the use of planes.

And these were carrying nukes.

[pharadyne]

Bugger all... [He knows very well what the effects of a nuclear blast is. He came from a security job in the 1950s. It's everything the world's been afraid of.]

Yes, I can see why that would be what we call "a rotten day."