< — makes vaguely english noises

< — doing some paperwork

He’s made planet-fall today. Helping to organise the spread of the supplies he’s ferried to a colony stricken by some minor disease going around. The hypochondriac in him wants to die, but if he can help then he will.

Desperately calling the Salisbury for pick-up. In the mean time, he’ll just organise his replacement’s paperwork. Colour coordinated over alphabetical? What an incompetent bastard.

He’s still getting over his own new rank. He doesn’t need that as well.

Quietly not pointing out that he’s still on the Infinity after the party. He does not want to get drawn into whatever the hell is going on. That is someone else’s problem.

RE: My VIKI account As you might have noticed, I just deleted my VIKI account. Simply put: Will Smith (who was A: in the movie she’s in and B: in the pinned I had) has had some fucked allegations thrown at him. I’m not saying exactly for the sake of timeline comfort but y’know. It’s -

It’s a trick, Marcus. To get it she’d have to come here.

He has a spare pad if Yvette needs it. She’d just have to come here and get it from him.

After a top-up: He takes a sip. It’s not awful…? But he’s definitely not a natural vodka guy. “Exhausting.” Not that he’d admit it, but so far he’s held up pretty well in his new role. But the pressure he’s put on himself is downright lethal. “I really don’t get why I got picked.”

He takes it, and smiles a little. “Thanks.” Oh god. A small talk moment. He’s got this. He’s got this. “H-how have you been?” That was okay? Right?

He thinks about it for a second, but sure. Why not? “Thank you, Kaja.” His tone is a mixture of complete anxiety, and overly polite gratitude.

Before he drinks, he sniffs. “W-what is this…?”

#NewYearsHalo Oh wait. He has huge social anxiety. Maybe some wine will help.

#NewYearsHalo He was able to diverge from his route to come for this little get together. He kinda misses it here. Just a little bit.

“Right now? We’re delivering a new batch of vehicles and light aircraft to the UNSC Davenport. They had an encounter with the Banished.” The skirmish was minor enough, but clearly it was costly. “Generally? We’re just a re-supply ship. Admiral Hood thought it might be -

Who am I to fight a losing battle?

I’m not sure if that’s better…? (What he really means is that he’s ashamed to admit he does prefer it.)

He was certainly intrigued. Terrified, but that was just his usual state of mind. “I…” His eyes looked around the room in a pointless glancing for the answer only somewhere inside of his cluttered head. “…I’d be happy to consult. Or uh, I suppose work with you virtually, but I’m really in no -

POV: You’ve just randomised Jon’s alphabetically coordinated book shelf.

It’s a little demeaning…? I suppose…?

#Queekisms This man is a ‘veteran’ with what? Two decades in the UNSC? Maybe? And he’s from this old-school stuffy military family with endless generations of service. And yet everyone protects him like he’s just a helpless little puppy. I love it 😂😭

Well. Yes. As it happens, I do have a name.

Paperboy…? Really?

I-I should be okay. This isn’t my first mysterious stranger. But I appreciate the admittedly violent sentiment.

“Oh. I do, but no thank you.” He’s way too new to his new roles to even consider drinking. A drop? Well. You might as well get drunk and streak through the entire vessel. Or at least his paranoia thinks that. “I suppose I’ve got a knack for that sort of thing yes. Why do you ask?”

“Hm?” Ah! He was a little startled there, but Jon quickly composes himself. He wasn’t exactly expecting visitors. “Uh. Yes. I suppose so. Sorry, but w-who are you exactly?”

#Queekisms Struggled a lot with the ship name. But I settled on Salisbury since it’s where my muse’s FC is from. Felt like an appropriate little nod!

Dithering around in his room. He’s familiarising himself with the ship’s technical information.

#Queekisms Okay chat I need aid. Jon’s basically now the boss of a small supply ship. But I can’t quite find a ship that really suits that role. They’re all way too big or don’t feel quite right. I’d appreciate a lil help!

#Queekisms Step one: pick a ship Step two: panic Step three: try again Step four: panic again? Step five: profit?

#Queekisms Bleh I just realised if Jon’s got his own ship or whatever now I should probably work on some basic background stuff. Siiiiigh. Should’ve thought of that.

First day progress…? Well. He’s settled in. Met all the important people. Said what he hopes were the right things. Gave some hopefully accurate orders. Now he’s in his quarters. Decompressing.

You’re welcome…?

< — offers a handkerchief.

standing just a half-foot inside of her rectangular office. “The Havadi Goodwan people are here. The meeting about the buildi…” Clare waved her quiet. “Yes, yes. Give me a second.” She replied as she tapped the screen. With one final sigh from Clare, the letter was quickly sent-off and she left.

If anyone wants him, he can be found hiding in his office for the last time.

Look at me. Do I look like someone people fear?

#Queekisms How did I go from writing a super sad end to a long series of solos over the course of a few months to making a joke that my own muse is a cuck in the same day? Roleplay man. It’s some crazy shit.

I’m about to command my own crew on my own vessel and I’m doing so having accidentally started the rumour that I’m… …I’m never going to be respected.

I DID NOT MEAN TO START IT!

*Attempts to distract with some clearly suspicious small talk and donuts.*

I AM AWARE OF THIS!

I have no need for that kind of ‘chair’. I’m divorced. I don’t even have a partner to watch.

Honestly? It’s just a texture thing. The two of them together. I can’t really explain it.

How do I get promoted and humiliated on the same day? What the…?

#Queekisms Haha. Oh timing.

What’s wrong with hotel chairs? He doesn’t understand. He’s sat in plenty of chairs in hotels. They’re just chairs.