Arbitrated
Well-Known Member
ISS Downrider
11:33 PM local time
Deimos jerked his head up from his desk as a soft tapping noise rattled the door to his cubby, which was shortly followed by a feminine voice. "Hey, you have a moment?" It was Aradia, for sure - though why the pilot was bothering the informant, especially when there was a ship to fly, was quite the mystery.
The half-fox would find himself glaring at the door for a solid moment as he pulled himself from his seat. He only opened the door a little ways, just enough for his face to catch the light of outside. His eyes were glazed over and tired. "Yes?" he grumbled, letting his gaze fall on the smaller female. "...You need something?
"Correction: You do." In fact, Deimos could even smell what she was talking about - she was holding a plate of steaming spaghetti, albeit somewhat unstably in her small hands. "I haven't seen you in the past two and a half days, and I don't think anyone else has either. You need some food," Aradia claimed as she tried to nudge the door open with a foot. "And it looks like you need some rest, too."
It was hard to deny his stomach growling the moment the scent of pasta and sauce drifted past his nose. His tail flitted behind him unconsciously. It was obvious she wasn't going to leave no matter what he told her.
He reached a hand out for the plate, though it was moreso to stabilize the dish and avoid a mess on the deck. It'd already been deep cleaned once. Deimos spun around on his heel, wordlessly walking through the cramped cabin towards his desk. He'd settled, hunched over on his bed - the same position he'd been in for days on end. The plate found a new home beside the piles of paper strewn every which way.
"... So it's been almost three days already?" he piped up, turning to once more face the pilot. From the light of his screen, the bags under his eyes became a lot more apparent. A ghost of a smile crept over his face. "Guess the planetary jetlag is starting to get to me, huh?"
Silver and blue eyes scanned the work-bedroom-office with a fair point of displeasure before Aradia stepped in, regardless. "Jet-lag doesn't make you disappear for three days. Ever heard of burnout? You need to take a break from something for a while, sometimes just for five minutes." She leaned against the wall, flipping the room's light on while she did it - and suppressing a little smirk as the fluffytail winced. "And maybe sleeping would help, too."
Arms crossed, the pilot rolled her head around, and took a deep breath. She wasn't very "equipped", which made her stand out compared to those EvoKnights nerds and Osco - she didn't even have one of her wands on her person, as far as Deimos could tell. She didn't look that far off from sleeping, herself, though she had an excuse. Kind of.
"But yeah, I wanted to make sure you were alive, and well. Well... You're not well, but you know what I mean."
Deimos' eyes flitted open and closed on loop as the brightened room stung his ruined cone cells. If he were any more of a dweller of the dark, he'd have hissed and proceeded to scramble underneath his bed like a cockroach - of course, he still fought off the very urge to do so.
[color=ff0000]"I know the risks, I just... want to make sure this is all compiled before our next mission. There's too much data from our last mission and I want to make sure it all fits in place with what we discovered in the Observatory."[/color] A slow sigh escaped his lungs, sweeping side to side as he shook his head.
She could see an obvious knot in the shoulder of his shirt rather than the usual hollow gauntlet. Not only had he been working - but he'd been working with only one hand available to him. He had only glanced at the spaghetti, not even bothering to touch it despite the ever tantalizing scent. "I appreciate the gesture, really, but... I'm confident in my ability to take care of myself."
"I'm confident in your ability to work on almost no food, sure, but... Hm." The arcanist paused, stalling for a few seconds. Well, think of it like this: If you get enough sleep, and actually eat something, you can actually get it done a lot faster." I should ask him about that arm. Interesting that he's able to do everything he can without it - even making a new arm.
She sighed, deciding to try to push him to eat, gently, again. "Especially if you eat something. Do you have a headache?"
"Not exactly, though even now it'd be hard to nail down if it was the lack of food, sleep... or the intrusion..." His eyes locked on the bright holographic screen in front of him, his finger swiping away at the various different pictures that he had taken from their expedition on Trayll II and comparing it to what they had all gathered on Bivona. everything from Turret Mounts and Oakland Heavy Walker units to the larger, modified machines that the Observatory Restoration team had Frankenstein'd together.
"I'll just need to get this done and then I can rest..."
"How about you rest, and maybe eat a bit. I'm not gonna leave until you start at least one of those things." Silent footsteps brought her to the foxman's bed. "And the food's still hot. Or I can wake up Marie and she can turn your computer off until tomorrow."
"Here's another way to put it: If you don't take care of yourself, you can't see all the pieces."
The fox-tailed male's ears flattened atop his head as he shot a daggered glare her way. He didn't quite much enjoy the idea of having to put his work to the side. It was only a matter of time before their next mission and - for all he knew - that combat data could be enough to save their lives. But perhaps stalling his own self-care would waste even more time.
A defeated puff escaped him as his data tablet shuffled all of its open tabs into a neat stack of holographic squares on top of his desk. He leaned forward, using his only remaining hand to pluck up the fork settled on the edge of the spaghetti plate. "So, is that the only reason you're back here? I thought you needed to keep an eye on the helm while we flew?"
"The autopilot is good enough for travelling in a line, keeping the ship steady. That's how I managed to save you guys from bleding out while we were getting out from the facility on Biovana. That's about all it does, though, I'm sure you've noticed that I slow us down in deep space around bedtime when we're about a day out from where we're going." She had to smile as she saw Deimos starting to eat the spaghetti which was just shy of scalding. "It was the main reason, yeah. Plus I've been sitting up there all day today and, honestly I wanted to talk with someone. And despite what I just said, Marie isn't the best for casual conversation."
He couldn't help but chuckle at the wayward comment on the white-haired engineer just before pulling the piping hot bite into his maw. For somebody so oriented on proper procedures, he had a rather messy way of eating - such as wiping off his chin with his elbow instead of a proper napkin - solely to keep from having to put the fork down for a couple seconds.
"Yeah, she hasn't struck me as the most talkative type. At least not in the morning. I should probably thank her for that wrench she gave me sometime. Not to mention she's apparently got something in store for... this..." He dipped his head to the side, gesturing to the stump that remained of his shoulder.
"Oh? That's great! How-" No, Aradia, don't ask him about his arm She coughed, and resumed, "How long since you last ate?"
He dipped his head back in thought, as though looking to the small spot on the ceiling would help him find the answer to that question. His jaw rolled back and forth. "I'd say... I had a bagel a couple... days ago." With that, he lowered himself back over the plate for another mouthful of spaghetti."Besides that, I've only ever left my room to get to the coffee pot or use the restroom. Haven't really felt hungry til now."
"You're in survival mode, your brain is probably convincing itself that it can hang on with as little as it has, and..." Aradia put a hand on Deimos's armless shoulder. "You're probably working at a tenth of your normal speed without even knowing it. And some quick math tells me that working at one hundred percent, half of the time, is better than ten percent, all the time. I wouldn't trust myself to fly the ship when I'm really tired unless I.... Really, really had to. Why are you.... Hm, putting yourself in such a position?"
His entire figure flinched away the moment her hand met the space his arm use to occupy, his eyes flashing wide towards the pilot, curved in as they were by a furrowed brow. The moment hung in the air, filling it with static that rose his hair on end until he turned back to facing his dinner.
"I just... want to make sure whatever needs to be done gets done..."
The fork tapped passively against the tin plate, rolling a noodle back and forth. "We've got another mission coming soon, so we need as much information as possible. I don't want to risk some uninformed decision leading to... what happened the last time."
"And I respect you for that. You're doing a great job as an informant, but I know that you'll want to be down there tomorrow as well. You're doing such a good job up here that you're going to be a liability down there - and I know that your information will be helpful if you can actually apply it in person... As long as you're not like this." As she took a breath, the room was briefly silent as metal clinked and scraped against metal lightly, Deimos having taken to the pasta aggressively at this point.
"And like I said earlier, being on an empty stomach and no sleep makes it a pain in the butt to actually gather and remember information."
"I know. I know." He snapped his head her way. He didn't quite appreciate the doting nature of it all. Between the wrench last mission and the plate of food sitting in front of him, he'd been questioning just how much worth he'd been to the team. Perhaps this was him trying to fix that. To subvert the feeling of "Dead weight" by burning the candle at both ends. Though a smoldering pile of wax does not a good teammate make.
He plucked up the fork, silently returning to the already neaely barren dish.
He hated that word. "Liability." It reeked moreso of a civilian being dragged along than that of another asset to the crew. A broken wheel on the shopping cart. He rolled his jaw back and forth, letting the sweet taste of the sauce linger. There was a distinct tinny tang to it all.
"This was microwaved, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. Still something I prepped earlier today, though." As if to shoot holes into her own advice, Aradia had to visibly stifle a yawn. "Still helping you feel better, at least?" She gave a slight, halfhearted smile and looked Deimos in the eye.
The moment where Deimos and Aradia's eyes met hung on a horse's hair. One he was all to quick to snap - though a pang of regret would linger atop him as he let the fork settle back onto the plate. He wasn't going to outright admit enjoying the company - though he truly needed it. Days upon days in self-induced isolation make for unrest even in the most sheltered introvert.
The smallest smile crept up on his face once more as he struggled to put together the proper words, scanning the wall in front of him as though it were inscribed with his lines.
"Ah... yeah... yeah... it... it is."
"Good, good... That's great," the magician mubmled, her own lips curling upwards at seeing Deimos smile for the first time... Well, since she'd first seen him, which arguably wasn't that long ago. "Heh, reminds me of my college days."
Deimos wasn't oblivious to the magician's exhaustion. As much as he'd been keeping his nose to his reseach, hers had probably been buried deep in the helm's controls for who knows how long. For the first time in awhile, Deimos had become well aware of his own fatigue.
"Heh... no kidding. This cabin doesn't feel a lot bigger than my dorm back then, either." He chuckled, letting his eyes scan the crammed space.
"Why don't you get some rest, Aradia? I'm sure somebody else can take control of the Downrider in the meantime."
"Yup, size is size, whether you're at school or on the move. I'll be fine, though - was gonna slow her down and head to bed after this. I think the only people that might be up right now are Marie, Juryrig and... maybe Rhea. And I don't think Osco would appreciate me asking." Letting her shoulders surge up into a shrug, the redhead didn't even suppress her upcoming yawn. "...But yeah, time for bed... Mmmm... Hey-" Aradia perked up quickly, and chuckled. "At least ya ate something, so I'll do what I said. I told ya I'd leave when you finished eating!"
"Well, I mean..." He looked off to the side. A moment's reprieve from the hectic nature of this mission. Perhaps that's what he'd been needing? Though that's all it was. A moment. Out of all of the moments of chaos from the past missions, perhaps it warranted more than just that.
He couldn't just let a chance to break the routine slip past him like this.
"...You don't need to go through with that part of the deal, right?"
He turned his gaze from the wall to the pilot, offering that same smile as before. There was something warm about it. Something he hadn't really felt himself in a while. True, he tried swirling his finger around his internal dictionary in search of the answer - but odds were he wouldn't be finding it if he let her walk out then and there.
"I mean..." he stammered, raising his hand to his cheek as he pried his eyes away once more. "...Maybe you might want to make sure I rest as well...? That'd help with future missions too, right?"
Aradia paused, her asymmetrical stare seemingly boring straight into the foxman's soul, without saying a word. An hour seemed to pass... And then she giggled, saying, "I think I'd be overstepping my duties. You know how tight of a ship Dahlia runs," the pilot said with a heavy mixture of sarcasm. "I trust you to pull off sleeping on your own, Deimos. Especially with a belly full of sketties!"
There was a wink, and then a wave, and then she was gone - the redhead's footfalls echoed out from the hallway, getting quieter as she returned to the cockpit of the freighter-turned-transport.
That warm smile turned to a cheeky glint on his face, a puff of air of a chuckle escaping him as he looked away, his face turning crimson upon realizing the proposition he had just thrown his own crewmate's way. He couldn't help but watch as she left, but found himself simply returning to his data pad mere moment's later.
With a couple clicks, the blue-lit holograms dissolved.
Perhaps it's time to rethink his work schedule.
11:33 PM local time
Deimos jerked his head up from his desk as a soft tapping noise rattled the door to his cubby, which was shortly followed by a feminine voice. "Hey, you have a moment?" It was Aradia, for sure - though why the pilot was bothering the informant, especially when there was a ship to fly, was quite the mystery.
The half-fox would find himself glaring at the door for a solid moment as he pulled himself from his seat. He only opened the door a little ways, just enough for his face to catch the light of outside. His eyes were glazed over and tired. "Yes?" he grumbled, letting his gaze fall on the smaller female. "...You need something?
"Correction: You do." In fact, Deimos could even smell what she was talking about - she was holding a plate of steaming spaghetti, albeit somewhat unstably in her small hands. "I haven't seen you in the past two and a half days, and I don't think anyone else has either. You need some food," Aradia claimed as she tried to nudge the door open with a foot. "And it looks like you need some rest, too."
It was hard to deny his stomach growling the moment the scent of pasta and sauce drifted past his nose. His tail flitted behind him unconsciously. It was obvious she wasn't going to leave no matter what he told her.
He reached a hand out for the plate, though it was moreso to stabilize the dish and avoid a mess on the deck. It'd already been deep cleaned once. Deimos spun around on his heel, wordlessly walking through the cramped cabin towards his desk. He'd settled, hunched over on his bed - the same position he'd been in for days on end. The plate found a new home beside the piles of paper strewn every which way.
"... So it's been almost three days already?" he piped up, turning to once more face the pilot. From the light of his screen, the bags under his eyes became a lot more apparent. A ghost of a smile crept over his face. "Guess the planetary jetlag is starting to get to me, huh?"
Silver and blue eyes scanned the work-bedroom-office with a fair point of displeasure before Aradia stepped in, regardless. "Jet-lag doesn't make you disappear for three days. Ever heard of burnout? You need to take a break from something for a while, sometimes just for five minutes." She leaned against the wall, flipping the room's light on while she did it - and suppressing a little smirk as the fluffytail winced. "And maybe sleeping would help, too."
Arms crossed, the pilot rolled her head around, and took a deep breath. She wasn't very "equipped", which made her stand out compared to those EvoKnights nerds and Osco - she didn't even have one of her wands on her person, as far as Deimos could tell. She didn't look that far off from sleeping, herself, though she had an excuse. Kind of.
"But yeah, I wanted to make sure you were alive, and well. Well... You're not well, but you know what I mean."
Deimos' eyes flitted open and closed on loop as the brightened room stung his ruined cone cells. If he were any more of a dweller of the dark, he'd have hissed and proceeded to scramble underneath his bed like a cockroach - of course, he still fought off the very urge to do so.
[color=ff0000]"I know the risks, I just... want to make sure this is all compiled before our next mission. There's too much data from our last mission and I want to make sure it all fits in place with what we discovered in the Observatory."[/color] A slow sigh escaped his lungs, sweeping side to side as he shook his head.
She could see an obvious knot in the shoulder of his shirt rather than the usual hollow gauntlet. Not only had he been working - but he'd been working with only one hand available to him. He had only glanced at the spaghetti, not even bothering to touch it despite the ever tantalizing scent. "I appreciate the gesture, really, but... I'm confident in my ability to take care of myself."
"I'm confident in your ability to work on almost no food, sure, but... Hm." The arcanist paused, stalling for a few seconds. Well, think of it like this: If you get enough sleep, and actually eat something, you can actually get it done a lot faster." I should ask him about that arm. Interesting that he's able to do everything he can without it - even making a new arm.
She sighed, deciding to try to push him to eat, gently, again. "Especially if you eat something. Do you have a headache?"
"Not exactly, though even now it'd be hard to nail down if it was the lack of food, sleep... or the intrusion..." His eyes locked on the bright holographic screen in front of him, his finger swiping away at the various different pictures that he had taken from their expedition on Trayll II and comparing it to what they had all gathered on Bivona. everything from Turret Mounts and Oakland Heavy Walker units to the larger, modified machines that the Observatory Restoration team had Frankenstein'd together.
"I'll just need to get this done and then I can rest..."
"How about you rest, and maybe eat a bit. I'm not gonna leave until you start at least one of those things." Silent footsteps brought her to the foxman's bed. "And the food's still hot. Or I can wake up Marie and she can turn your computer off until tomorrow."
"Here's another way to put it: If you don't take care of yourself, you can't see all the pieces."
The fox-tailed male's ears flattened atop his head as he shot a daggered glare her way. He didn't quite much enjoy the idea of having to put his work to the side. It was only a matter of time before their next mission and - for all he knew - that combat data could be enough to save their lives. But perhaps stalling his own self-care would waste even more time.
A defeated puff escaped him as his data tablet shuffled all of its open tabs into a neat stack of holographic squares on top of his desk. He leaned forward, using his only remaining hand to pluck up the fork settled on the edge of the spaghetti plate. "So, is that the only reason you're back here? I thought you needed to keep an eye on the helm while we flew?"
"The autopilot is good enough for travelling in a line, keeping the ship steady. That's how I managed to save you guys from bleding out while we were getting out from the facility on Biovana. That's about all it does, though, I'm sure you've noticed that I slow us down in deep space around bedtime when we're about a day out from where we're going." She had to smile as she saw Deimos starting to eat the spaghetti which was just shy of scalding. "It was the main reason, yeah. Plus I've been sitting up there all day today and, honestly I wanted to talk with someone. And despite what I just said, Marie isn't the best for casual conversation."
He couldn't help but chuckle at the wayward comment on the white-haired engineer just before pulling the piping hot bite into his maw. For somebody so oriented on proper procedures, he had a rather messy way of eating - such as wiping off his chin with his elbow instead of a proper napkin - solely to keep from having to put the fork down for a couple seconds.
"Yeah, she hasn't struck me as the most talkative type. At least not in the morning. I should probably thank her for that wrench she gave me sometime. Not to mention she's apparently got something in store for... this..." He dipped his head to the side, gesturing to the stump that remained of his shoulder.
"Oh? That's great! How-" No, Aradia, don't ask him about his arm She coughed, and resumed, "How long since you last ate?"
He dipped his head back in thought, as though looking to the small spot on the ceiling would help him find the answer to that question. His jaw rolled back and forth. "I'd say... I had a bagel a couple... days ago." With that, he lowered himself back over the plate for another mouthful of spaghetti."Besides that, I've only ever left my room to get to the coffee pot or use the restroom. Haven't really felt hungry til now."
"You're in survival mode, your brain is probably convincing itself that it can hang on with as little as it has, and..." Aradia put a hand on Deimos's armless shoulder. "You're probably working at a tenth of your normal speed without even knowing it. And some quick math tells me that working at one hundred percent, half of the time, is better than ten percent, all the time. I wouldn't trust myself to fly the ship when I'm really tired unless I.... Really, really had to. Why are you.... Hm, putting yourself in such a position?"
His entire figure flinched away the moment her hand met the space his arm use to occupy, his eyes flashing wide towards the pilot, curved in as they were by a furrowed brow. The moment hung in the air, filling it with static that rose his hair on end until he turned back to facing his dinner.
"I just... want to make sure whatever needs to be done gets done..."
The fork tapped passively against the tin plate, rolling a noodle back and forth. "We've got another mission coming soon, so we need as much information as possible. I don't want to risk some uninformed decision leading to... what happened the last time."
"And I respect you for that. You're doing a great job as an informant, but I know that you'll want to be down there tomorrow as well. You're doing such a good job up here that you're going to be a liability down there - and I know that your information will be helpful if you can actually apply it in person... As long as you're not like this." As she took a breath, the room was briefly silent as metal clinked and scraped against metal lightly, Deimos having taken to the pasta aggressively at this point.
"And like I said earlier, being on an empty stomach and no sleep makes it a pain in the butt to actually gather and remember information."
"I know. I know." He snapped his head her way. He didn't quite appreciate the doting nature of it all. Between the wrench last mission and the plate of food sitting in front of him, he'd been questioning just how much worth he'd been to the team. Perhaps this was him trying to fix that. To subvert the feeling of "Dead weight" by burning the candle at both ends. Though a smoldering pile of wax does not a good teammate make.
He plucked up the fork, silently returning to the already neaely barren dish.
He hated that word. "Liability." It reeked moreso of a civilian being dragged along than that of another asset to the crew. A broken wheel on the shopping cart. He rolled his jaw back and forth, letting the sweet taste of the sauce linger. There was a distinct tinny tang to it all.
"This was microwaved, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it is. Still something I prepped earlier today, though." As if to shoot holes into her own advice, Aradia had to visibly stifle a yawn. "Still helping you feel better, at least?" She gave a slight, halfhearted smile and looked Deimos in the eye.
The moment where Deimos and Aradia's eyes met hung on a horse's hair. One he was all to quick to snap - though a pang of regret would linger atop him as he let the fork settle back onto the plate. He wasn't going to outright admit enjoying the company - though he truly needed it. Days upon days in self-induced isolation make for unrest even in the most sheltered introvert.
The smallest smile crept up on his face once more as he struggled to put together the proper words, scanning the wall in front of him as though it were inscribed with his lines.
"Ah... yeah... yeah... it... it is."
"Good, good... That's great," the magician mubmled, her own lips curling upwards at seeing Deimos smile for the first time... Well, since she'd first seen him, which arguably wasn't that long ago. "Heh, reminds me of my college days."
Deimos wasn't oblivious to the magician's exhaustion. As much as he'd been keeping his nose to his reseach, hers had probably been buried deep in the helm's controls for who knows how long. For the first time in awhile, Deimos had become well aware of his own fatigue.
"Heh... no kidding. This cabin doesn't feel a lot bigger than my dorm back then, either." He chuckled, letting his eyes scan the crammed space.
"Why don't you get some rest, Aradia? I'm sure somebody else can take control of the Downrider in the meantime."
"Yup, size is size, whether you're at school or on the move. I'll be fine, though - was gonna slow her down and head to bed after this. I think the only people that might be up right now are Marie, Juryrig and... maybe Rhea. And I don't think Osco would appreciate me asking." Letting her shoulders surge up into a shrug, the redhead didn't even suppress her upcoming yawn. "...But yeah, time for bed... Mmmm... Hey-" Aradia perked up quickly, and chuckled. "At least ya ate something, so I'll do what I said. I told ya I'd leave when you finished eating!"
"Well, I mean..." He looked off to the side. A moment's reprieve from the hectic nature of this mission. Perhaps that's what he'd been needing? Though that's all it was. A moment. Out of all of the moments of chaos from the past missions, perhaps it warranted more than just that.
He couldn't just let a chance to break the routine slip past him like this.
"...You don't need to go through with that part of the deal, right?"
He turned his gaze from the wall to the pilot, offering that same smile as before. There was something warm about it. Something he hadn't really felt himself in a while. True, he tried swirling his finger around his internal dictionary in search of the answer - but odds were he wouldn't be finding it if he let her walk out then and there.
"I mean..." he stammered, raising his hand to his cheek as he pried his eyes away once more. "...Maybe you might want to make sure I rest as well...? That'd help with future missions too, right?"
Aradia paused, her asymmetrical stare seemingly boring straight into the foxman's soul, without saying a word. An hour seemed to pass... And then she giggled, saying, "I think I'd be overstepping my duties. You know how tight of a ship Dahlia runs," the pilot said with a heavy mixture of sarcasm. "I trust you to pull off sleeping on your own, Deimos. Especially with a belly full of sketties!"
There was a wink, and then a wave, and then she was gone - the redhead's footfalls echoed out from the hallway, getting quieter as she returned to the cockpit of the freighter-turned-transport.
That warm smile turned to a cheeky glint on his face, a puff of air of a chuckle escaping him as he looked away, his face turning crimson upon realizing the proposition he had just thrown his own crewmate's way. He couldn't help but watch as she left, but found himself simply returning to his data pad mere moment's later.
With a couple clicks, the blue-lit holograms dissolved.
Perhaps it's time to rethink his work schedule.
Participants: @Trainscanflytoo and @Arbitrated