ArchivedLogs:Pit Stop

Pit Stop
Dramatis Personae Anette, Ion
In Absentia	2015-10-16 "I'm surprised you're not blowing up Manhattan right now."
Location <BOM> Kitchen and Dining Room - Main Lodge - Ascension Island
Though equipped to feed and seat a few dozen people, these rooms lack an institutional feel. A large stone fireplace along one wall has a wide mantelpiece above it; the walls and floors are smooth blonde birch and darker grey stone. The solid wood tables are circular, designed to seat six apiece. The lighting overhead is soft, stained-glass hanging lamps over each table and recessed lighting studded at intervals into the walls. Though the tables all match, the chairs do not, an assortment of styles from extravagantly ornate high-backed oak to plastic-and-metal folding chairs. The kitchen adjoins the living room through a large pair of swinging doors. Recently refurbished, its new appliances still gleam. The giant fridge and freezer to the right are generally well-stocked, as is the large cool stone walk-in pantry set alongside them. Its back door opens out onto the gardens. The center island is a long granite counter, the cabinets underneath it stocked with pots and pans and cooking dishes of all types. Three sinks are set against the left-hand wall. Overhead, numerous cabinets hold dishes and glasses and mugs for actual eating; the drawers below have utensils for the same. Hooks on the walls are available for hanging -- dishtowels, oven mitts, severed body parts, whatever is in need of hanging. There's still no power on the island; it's made the Common House a /quieter/ hangout. Less people clustered around the large living room television, no sound system booming. The kitchen is currently lit only by a single thick candle smack in the center of the center island, together with a faint bluish glow from the stove where one of the ranges is on. There's a lot of clattering from the pantry in the back -- someone in there evidently rummaging through it and not particularly successfully, in the dim light. Sometimes, it's worth holding onto nostalgia. One of those times is when there's no power anywhere. It's a great time to break out the old handheld gaming device from the 90's you had buried in a closet somewhere. Yep, apparently Anette has a soft spot for retro gaming as she walks into the room, playing her game, sound off. The darkness apparently does nothing, she moves about just as clearly as if it were day. "Hey," she calls out to whomever is rummaging around in the pantry as she leans up against a wall, eyes never leaving the screen. "{Can't find anything in this fuck --}" The gravelly deep grumbling from the pantry cuts off with Anette's greeting. There's another clatter. Ion emerges shortly afterwards, his arms -- empty, despite all his trouble searching. "You. Oh. Fff. Yo-hey-what. You gonna yell me again make it quick I /don't/ got the time." Anette looks up as Ion makes his presence known, frowning slightly. "Oh. I was hoping you were Daken," she says, returning to her game. "No, I'm good," she responds to his question about yelling at him, said as casually as if he had offered her a sandwich. She does look up after a moment though. "I uh...I heard the latest mission didn't, ah...didn't go as smoothly," she says, struggling for words as if she's not quite used to gently discussing tragic events. "Tss," is Ion's sharply hissed answer to the idea of being Daken. "Not last I /check/, be nice if I was could maybe this /bullshit/ neutering wouldn't'a /took/." The pantry door slams shut behind him; he thumps back to lean against it. "They don't all go smoothly. What happens when you a fucking /terrorist/, remember? I'mm'a fix it. I'mm'a /fix it/." Anette's wearing a look she's not usually accostomed to wearing: concern. "I don't...know the details of what happened. But I'm sorry." She's doesn't really specify what the apology is for but it's out there. "Yeah, I suppose it is an occupational hazard," she agrees, nodding her head as she turns her game off, slipping it into her pocket. "I'm surprised you're not blowing up Manhattan right now." "You only just /now/ figuring out it come with the territory, yo? Is what I was telling when you bitching me out up-down-sideways." Ion shakes his head, arms wrapping around his chest and his head thunking back against the wall. "I'mm'a find him." This is quieter. "I'mm'a bring him home." His fingers clench tightly around his arm. "/Been/ out there. Them fucking bots, they shoot me? Needle me? Stole my fucking /juice/. Ain't running so fast as I used to. Gotta come back here. Refuel. Get some more damn firepower. Can't just steal it out the fucking air no more." There's an irritable growl in his voice at this. "/Fuck/ them." "Again, there's a difference between doing your job and doing something stupid because you're drunk and heartbroken," Anette says, her voice becoming slightly sharp. She quickly clears her throat and takes a deep breath. "Which is probably what's going on with you right now, isn't it?" She presses her lips together as she listens to Ion vent. "Need a hand or wing with that?" "I ain't drunk." Ion's small chuff of breath is not quite a laugh. He closes his eyes slowly, turning his head to the side to face Anette before opening them again to look towards her. His eyes narrow slightly, straining in the dim light to peer in her direction. "... huhwhat? You for real? Didn't seem so happy with my smashing up shit last time, y'know?" "I wasn't happy with being so drunk I was hit by the first dart and that I was dumb enough to be on camera. But I don't regret destroying the sentinels," Anette says, giving a light shrug. "They needed to go." She suddenly grins, yellow eyes sparkling. "I enjoy smashing shit just as much as the next guy." Ion's smile is quick -- not as bright as his usual, admittedly. Not as long-lived. His head bows again. "World needs a good fucking smashing." He pulls himself slowly away from the pantry door, the motion kind of stiff, kind of sluggish. "I come back here, need a food, need a sleep. Find more weapon. Feed my kids. Then some more smashing, huh?" "Food, sleep, and smashing. Sounds like a plan," Anette says, grinning. "And where are we going to be finding weapons?" She watches Ion with a smile, very interested and invested in this plan. "Whaaat. You ain't never seen the cache here? It's like a goddamn gold mine." Ion's brow furrows thoughtfully. "Gold mine of destruction. Mama she done collected us a armory up in here. I ask her nice, she load me up." "Unfortunately I'm not as around as I should be. Looking to change that though," Anette says with a soft chuckle. "Very sweet of her, either way. I really should have moved here ages ago." "Real thoughtful," Ion agrees. "She know what we like." He glances over at the stove with a kind of confused look -- like unsure? Why it is still on? Trudging over, he switches it off, and moves to swipe the candle off the island where it stands melting. "Is good place. Good -- home. She look after us."