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Owner	Pose
Liza Grier	All things said, as far as 'Watchtowers' go, this one is firmly in the middle. Despite the dramatic name, more often than they are ever kitted out lairs atop glittering spires owned by a pocketed contractor and hidden away in legalese, they are a fictitious person's basement in the middle of Alaska. This is one of the relative few that take refuge in obscurity rather than the tried and true method of hiding in plain sight, which means high maintenance and low profile; it's harder to funnel resources into one without multiple suspicious steps, and developing it too much draws attention.     It is also in space. Technically. High orbit around a blue-yellow marble with barely the slightest presence of glittering lights on its three quarters visible dark side. One could theoretically call it a 'station', but the floor plan ultimately amounts to fourteen rooms, three times as many corridors and crawlspaces, a stockpile, and garage slash maintenance bay, the latter two of which the man-made gravity does not extend to. Half its mass is dedicated to the powerful ansible and computer farm that runs down its spine, but whatever it was originally for, the company markings or national flags have been scraped off and triumphantly painted with the violet eye; no point in pretending what it's about.     There are a dozen possible different reasons to be here. Chief amongst them is that this place was just recently emptied out for a planetside operation that went disastrously wrong and was just barely salvaged. There's barely enough fuel to keep the aged backup lights on, the chilly air circulating, and the artificial Warpgate working for those without craft.     A room with eight mismatched beds has visible dustless bare spots on the shelves and inside the cooling cabinets where all the medical supplies were emptied out, bloodied bandages stuffed into plastic garbage bags when the biohazard bin filled up. The armory only has a few plastic crates of NATO-grade ammo nobody wanted and an incredibly unsafe-looking hammer-esque pneumatic gadget sitting on a rack. The garage is a debris field of free-floating shrapnel and stripped parts, perfectly round droplets of oil and lubricant, from no-longer present vehicles. Dismayingly, the generator room is cold, and what appears to be spliced into the power grid is a diesel generator salvaged from a hospital somewhere.     Even the lounge's faded couches, frayed rug, and cozy coffee tables, are littered with discarded MRE packs and styrofoam cup ramen dipped into after the makeshift kitchen the next chamber over ran dry, which is a shame, because the spirited decor of random agents' favourite puzzles and videogames thrown around with theatrical posters and classical books would be sort of homey otherwise.     The reason for two people being here is that Liza actually flew her ship out. It's barely visible outside the narrow pool of the station's exterior lights, mostly only illuminating the garishly red stripe down a section of hull. Her ostensible purpose here is manually hauling out suspiciously non-uniform crates and boxes, still in her mechbay clothes, grease-smudged gloves next to bare arms.
Redshift Operators	A space hideout is traditional for the Redshift Operators. In the past few years of operating, they've reclaimed orbital outposts, surface outposts, and once, an underwater outpost. An astronaut is here assessing the generator systems over wireless on a tablet, while a tall, bulky fellow helps out on hauling in crates. There's a cyborg lady here who is disposing of the medical biohazards in a complex miniature flash-incinerator. And the gruff leader of them all crosses his arms near the airlock, grunting at Liza Grier.     "Never was a fan of orbital outposts. Surface, even hostile surface, at least you can dig a pit and throw things in it, worst comes around." He shakes his head. "But not every planet's got tax-writeoff fuel stations just laying around, I guess. Hope someone can get that damn mess in the mech bay, I *hate* zero-G liquid messes."
Candy	"Son of a bitch."      Candy has lost track of the number of colorful expletives he's dropped in the maintenance bay. It isn't his first time in zero-g, but it is his first time trying to work there, and it shows. Bulky, early twentieth century power tools float in a haphazard cloud around him. His workspace might be called 'pathetic,' given that the half of it that hasn't been furiously bolted in place is currently floating a lazy escape from him, blending in with the floating shrapnel and colliding with spheres of oil and lubricant.      His attempts to create a more substantial source of fuel than 'diesel' are progressing. Slowly. Much more so than he'd prefer, and made at a simmering level of frustration just shy of--      A piece of scrap metal bounces against the back of his head. "FUCK OFF! FUCKING IDIOT!" Without thinking, Candy hurls a monkey wrench blindly behind him, creating one more in a long list of things he'll need to float across the room, failing to 'reprimand' the offending scrap metal, and sending him floating ass-first into his 'carefully' prepared work bench, scooting the flasks of chemicals and exactingly crafted rare metals off and setting them to floating, too.      "STOP FLOATING! BASTARD!"
Remee Halcyon	"Oh! How quaint! It's kind of like camping, isn't it!" Some of the Watch's elite-handlers are still a little unsure of how to handle Remee, whose highlights so far include showing up at a rendezvous point inside of a chauffeured limo, spending ten times as much on specialty ammunition as the watch asset she's protecting is worth, and whose idea of delivering essential supplies includes dropping off a refrigerated crate of ultra-wagyu beef. Still, a marksman elite is a marksman elite, and most recently she's been on extraction and escort duty, the most recent mission of which has ended with her bringing her latest charge here to drop off. "It is a little messy, though, isn't it?" she comments to the gruff leader type as she floats by. "Like, whoever's in charge of cleaning it up isn't really doing their jobs." Candy's expletives also float by, in a more metaphorical sense. "Sounds like they're doing *something* at least," she comments, brightly.
Karlan Nobles	Although space stations aren't a normal place for cat people from the snowy mountains to be, Pramanix has never been one to turn down an interesting-sounding job, and SilverAsh... Well, he's definitely left her alone to do dangerous stuff before, but he's trying to get better about not doing that so much. Thus, the siblings from Kjerag have joined Liza in her mission on this station, and they've already gotten sidetracked thanks to the presence of so much leftover stuff in the varying rooms. They're dressed in gray and black jumpsuits, respectively, having learned from the last time they were in space that having somewhere to stow their tails into is far more comfortable than just shoving them into the waist area. "Do you think this safe to eat?" Pramanix asks as she slides a crate of cup ramen over to try and get it out of the way of any other stuff that might actually be needed. "Before everything went cold, perhaps. Now? I wouldn't be so bold." SilverAsh has his hands full digging through the ammo, squinting his eyes as though he might actually know how to appraise any of it. (He doesn't). "This, though, could be rather useful... Expensive, I imagine." "Everything's expensive if it had to be able to come up here, I bet." Pramanix huffs slightly, then perks up when Red Dwarf mentions the mess. "Ah, I can handle that, friend. Just a moment!" She brings out her bell on the way to the bay, slowly fumbling through the ringing/dancing steps of her wind and snow calling ritual to try and get... Is there even wind out here? Or enough moisture to create snow? Luckily, she doesn't know anything about that, so she just tries it regardless in an effort to get all that floating spherical liquid together and frozen up for easier disposal (or shoving it somewhere else). She also does an impromptu flip to evade the flying wrench even though it's nowhere near her. She just wanted to do a cool flip.
Petra Soroka	A blocky, tank-like craft cruises towards the station, stopping in the bay with a surprising gentleness for its hostile exterior. The hatch opens, and following a cloud of white, frosty air, Petra climbs out, her bomber jacket clutched tight around her body and a scowl frozen onto her face. Shivering and stumbling as she makes her way down the ladder to latch her mech to the station, she grumbles to herself, "J-just because I have a vehicle d-doesn't mean I'm a god-d-damn delivery woman, it's not *made* for this." She slips, her feet numb from the cramped position she had to ride in to carry the boxes of medical supplies packed into her cockpit, and falls to the ground on the external platform with a clang.     "What the FUCK, this fucking SUCKS!" Thinking that no one's around to hear, Petra plaintively swears for a bit before picking herself up off the ground. After opening the cargo doors, she finally turns around to see that there are, in fact, other vehicles here, the retroactive embarrassment making her purse her lips while her cheeks flush slightly. Straightening up and brushing some of the ice crystals out of her hair, she takes a deep breath and tries to carry a box in as professionally as possible
KNK	While KNK weren't in that op, they've had a hard time somewhere else, but there's some rebalancing that can be done about it.     Violet arrives carrying Rose piggyback, through the barely-functional warpgate. With a full-face 'fierce oni' style mask, Rose's expression isn't possible to catch, but Violet looks alright with it. She's hauling boxes in a pair of slings, weighing down her arms.     "We're here! Oh, it's still got... gravity. Guh, this is heavy."     "Just drop those here. It's not on everywhere, is it? Message said power was low."     Violet obediently drops everything but Rose, with some heavy falling-over noises proving the boxes weren't properly stacked in the slings. She then starts trotting off to find someplace where things are lighter.     The garage is what she first stumbles onto, with Rose saying, "Alright, good enough," tapping her shoulder, and then crawling up the wall by her hands.     Violet says, "Sure!" and goes back to get the pile of munitions she'd dropped by the door and find a place to store it.     "Oh, Candy, you're here?" What is immediately obvious is that Rose has no trouble moving around in zero-g, even nabbing floating tools on the way. What is next obvious is that, while she has both her legs, they appear to have been ripped off at the knees, exposing twisted and stretched metal and plastic and exposed bundles of microfiber. The lower portions of each, shin to ankle and foot, are tied together by a knotted cloth and strapped to her back.     "You drop this? Oh, hold on. Can't take my mask off with my hands full." And she needs one to hold herself in place.
Rita Ma	Rita- a short, precious blonde girl- is bustling about with a trash bag in one hand and a broom under her other arm, dutifully focusing on the removal of empty ramen cups and the eradication of dust bunnies. She's wearing a sun-bleached pink sundress and a taupe bolero, a cute outfit but well-worn enough already that one wouldn't mind getting it a little dirtier.      The only detraction from her everygirl appearance is her blue right eye. There's something off about the pupil.      "Zero-G messes... I don't think I've ever dealt with one of those. Ms. Grier's ship has full gravity," Rita says to Red Dwarf in passing. "Do you-" She pauses, glancing off in the direction of the garage when a very muffled outburst reaches her ears. And then a different muffled outburst, from elsewhere.      Rita's jolted back to present reality by someone having a very bad idea. "Ah... please don't eat that, Ms. Pramanix!" Then she claps her hands together, forcing a perky smile. "Maybe it's time for refreshments! You know, if everyone's hungry or having a bad time. I'll be right back, Ms. Grier!"      She bustles off back into the red-striped spaceship, and emerges with two thermoses and a tupperware container in place of her broom. Seaweed soup, green tea, and a salty-spicy raw crab dish over rice are set up on a newly-cleared table, with serving sizes somewhere between 'a big snack' and 'a small lunch'.      One wonders if that's really going to boost productivity. More likely it's just something Rita enjoys doing.      "You're Remee from the radio, aren't you?" she says while ladling out some crab into a disposable bowl. She waves to Petra next. "And I'm not sure I know you at all. I'm Rita Ma! It's nice to meet you! You can sit down if you want!"      One may get the impression that, given free reign, Rita really would try to do all the work herself while everyone else rests.
Redshift Operators	There's someone behind Candy, abruptly. Or rather, on the other side of that table in his workspace, the minute he turns back around. The silent astronaut is just sort of abruptly there after drifting over. "Wait." A long pause, at least five seconds. The blank stare interrupts any response: "Once things start drifting around in zero gravity, don't try to pick them up. Wait for air circulation to slow it down and gather it nearer the air scrubbers." They just watch the flasks for a few seconds, and then turn around and head back towards the door of the bay even if Candy makes a reply.
Charlotte Newman	One of the Watch's newer, less experienced elites has volunteered to assist on this venture. Clad in a stylish space suit that is equal parts black and pink, it's that girl Charlotte from Lampport. However, she's somewhat less than useful here.     Mostly because Charlotte has literally never been to Space before and keeps getting distracted playing tourist. Wandering the station's empty hallways, careful to keep track of where she is in the unfamiliar surroundings.     She's just starting to make her way to the medbay to see what she can contribute there with all the loud cursing catches her attention. Trotting past Medical, she returns to the landing bay to behold the new vessel that's landed itself here. Fortunately, she's arrived after the pratfall and spared Petra that embarrassment at least. What the pilot does receive is a greeting.     "Welcome aboard," the girl offers, "I'm Charlotte. Can I help you unload your cargo?"
Redshift Operators	The imposing giant looms over the ultra-wagyu crate. He's found the knives from the fridge, and he's sharpening them in a terribly intense scraping noise. Gathering all that into one hand, he picks up the wagyu crate with the other, a one-handed grip, and walks towards the kitchen. "We employ a *different kind of cleaner*." He says as he brings it into the kitchen. It's just very important that Remee understand that most Watch employees aren't reliable housekeepers, that's all!
Candy	"Yeah, I dropped it," he says with a sigh. Still malding, "Don't know how anybody's supposed to do any goddamn maintaining when they're getting fucked around with no gravity. Stupid-ass fucking idiots," he spits. It's unclear who is meant by 'idiots.' It could just as easily be the scrap metal floating around as it could an actual person. Candy notices Rose's lack of legs as he flails uselessly in search of something to hold onto, following his bungle.      "That supposed to help with all this bullshit?" he obliviously asks with a raised brow, twirling an index around as he floats perpendicular to the ground. Then, he allows a little concern to creep into his voice, brown eyes searching the expressionless mask. "Does it hurt?" Candy grabs onto a rail to level himself out.      Looking over his shoulder at the withdrawing astronaut following their response, "...thanks. I owe you one."
Redshift Operators	The leaderly-looking gunman gives a grateful grunt to one of the Karlan Nobles, keeping the arms crossed but making an approving nod. Pramanix's efforts are surely appreciated. Petra Soroka's clumsy arrival stops him before he starts saying more. "No space legs?" Somehow the left half of the helmet's optics seems to quirk a brow up. He regards Rose of KNK placidly as she drifts by in the bay. "Not those kinds, though. Look expensive." There's the impression of a smirk on his voice. "Might wanna start doing the daily elevator-jumps if you're planning on hitting orbit with any grace."
Liza Grier	The generator looks like an EGP-6's baby cousin. It's small, but not sophisticated. If the stockpile was ever mostly full of low grade uranium, it probably would have run for decades without a delivery, but then it begs the question of who the indoors space was ever for. And it's all current converted and plugged into industrial standard anyways, so what was the fucking point? The terminals have screens, so they were at one point meant to be read by physical eyes. Probably.     "The hole is space. It's all around you." Liza says to Red Dwarf, barely holding her breath as she lowers two plastic orange crates with a jingling thump. "Orbit's only a problem if you plan to keep it forever. If your exit option is better than the other guy's, it doesn't matter." Stretching her back with her hands clasped together over her head, Liza exhales quietly at the sound of Candy's swearing floating down the halls. "Well, if he doesn't figure it out, it'll end up your job. Or are you a 'supervisor'?"     She reaches to push her fingers under her hair and away from her ear, then pauses by reflex when she feels the weight of thick and greasy gloves on them. "You know how to strip and check, right?" she says, simply assuming this is taken as a given meaning, while popping the locked clasps on the top crate. Removing the plastic lid reveals three submachine guns and three automatic pistols crammed in next to a taped block of ten magazines for each, packed with glowsticks, trauma kits, and protein bars, in place of the original styrofoam backing. "These aren't mine, so I haven't quality checked." They are very clearly not hers. The barrel tags haven't even been removed.     "Word is that everyone who left this mess either ended up hospitalized somewhere else or is stuck holding the fort planetside as a skeleton crew now." she says to Remee. "Cleaning is a pretty low priority with that many people crammed into the only FOB here, for that long. Leaving it to whoever comes after isn't exactly polite, but that's how you have to operate sometimes. It's not like it's going to kill you."     Rita enters with her favourite. Liza stares at it blankly, probably weighing something in her head.     "Well if we're doing that, I might as well get drinks. Makes the evening pass faster."
Remee Halcyon	"Yes I am!" says Remee, brightly, to Rita. "Remee Halcyon, at your service. Just got here a bit ago, myself... Nice to meet, you, Rita!" "... Oh! I see. That's a really good thing to do," she says, just as brightly to the imposing giant. "MIght want to bring in the other kind of cleaner, too, though!" And then Liza gives her explanation. Remee nods. "Ahh... I see! Well. If they got killed or skeletized or whatever, they couldn't come back and clean... That'd make sense..." "... Still! Keeping things tidy is very important. I'm going to go tidy up!" She starts going around the lounge, trying to get all of the trash together.
Redshift Operators	The gunman seems distracted, but the cyborg woman seems to have no issue with chatting up Rita Ma. "Oh yes. Liza operates in much more high-security zones, I believe, leaving the 'small fry' to those more like us. Zones blessed with greater security often are blessed with things like more consistent gravity generators. And besides, she could go and become a Zero herself, she has far too much violence that she is destined for." The dramatic gesture she makes over half her face with that robot arm...
Petra Soroka	Petra enters the bay where the others are with a professional posture and a winning smile, though the accumulated frost in her messy bob cut might dampen that image. She's now lightly leading the box, covered with various warnings about fragility and biohazards, rather than carrying it, because she is of course not being affected by the artificial gravity of the ship anymore... so then why is she standing so easily? She walks on the ground as if she's skating, without properly engaging with the zero-G or the artificial gravity of the ship.     "Hello! I didn't expect it to be so crowded!" Petra raises a hand in greeting at Rita, expertly balancing the box on the tips of her fingers so it doesn't float away. "Petra, nice to meet you, Rita." She glances around at the various people (Candy) stumbling around, then towards Remee. "Definitely irresponsible to leave a station in this state, but I guess you do what you have to do sometimes."     To the gunman, she says, indignantly, "I'm plenty accustomed to space, thank you very much. I've just," Shaking her leg out to get the blood flowing back into it, "had an uncomfortable trip. Ass."     Moving through the bay towards Medical, Petra passes by Charlotte and looks her up and down, immediately identifying her as someone who doesn't have notable seniority to her. "Oh, wow, I love your suit! I literally never even though about getting one in pink, my mesh is just black and grey. Do you have anything you're doing? Mind helping me get some of these boxes in?"
Karlan Nobles	"Now you've gone and worried dear Rita." "Wha... I-I didn't really mean it, Rita! Don't worry, I'm not that hungry. I'm okay, really!" Burning up a bit at that, Pramanix puts more of her focus into getting those liquid globs together with only a bit of goofing off to see what happens when she puts her hands through floating spherical grease. It goes about as well as expected, making it harder for her to properly push off walls and stuff later, but at least she's doing a bang up job gettingt hat stuff out of the way of the bay workers. "Whatever happened to get them out of this place, it certainly makes our jobs easier." Silverash comments, stroking his chin through his suit after a moment. "What... Are we looking for here, anyway? Is there anything we're looking for in particular?" "There's plenty of ammo and other random... Stuff around. And some new faces, I see!" Perking up after her previous embarassing moment, Pramanix floats on over to where Petra and Remee are, giving them something vaguely resembling a formal curtsey despite not wearing a dress and also being a little too sideways in midair for it to look normal. "Pramanix. A pleasure to meet you, friends! So~ What are you here for?" "In the Watch, she means." SilverAsh qualifies, somehow still keeping both feet on the 'ground' this entire time and even while bowing formally/normally to them both. "SilverAsh. A pleasure indeed. What are your specialties?"
KNK	'That supposed to help with all this bullshit?'     'Does it hurt?'     "Not really," Rose says, giving that well-known kind of shrug and tone that's more deflective, feigned apathy for an old condition than any kind of sincerity. "Can't stand on my feet, so it's less of a pain to get work done this way. That's all."     Once her hand is empty, she brings it up to pull off her mask. How it's held on isn't clear, but the way she pauses to stretch facial muscles after suggests it was a tight seal. She moves it over to the side, and it sticks to the upper side of her head. "There. Better."     She looks around. "Was hoping for more of a... precision workshop. Might have to fix myself up later." Unable to resist asking forever, "What are you working on?"     The Astronaut gets a look, but Rose has nothing more to add to that. Her own space experience is limited, despite her figurative space legs.
KNK	Violet still hasn't found the stockpile among the several dozen hallways, so she's carrying her double-sling of 'something' and poking her head into the room at about the point where Liza talks about stripping.     "Oh, Liza! Hi, Rita! I've got stuff, but not food. Had some, like... not extra but suddenly didn't have space for it, you know? So we figured, going to space for space made sense. Also 'cause Rose can't walk right now. Do you need help with that?" She does not specify which 'that' is.
Redshift Operators	The gunman looks at the tank. "Yeah, looks like it." He crosses his arms. "You drive the heavy armor around like that? Hell, can't be good mileage." The smirk re-enters the voice "But hey, you need to cross a gravity border again, just yell. Someone can hold your hand."     Someone's voice calls from near the medical waste. "Please do not Sasuke the new recruits without at least a little time to get their bearings." The gunman rolls his helmet's optics.     Then he makes a short "Ghh--" sound when Liza gets him with that insinuation, and shakes his head. "'Course I'm gonna help! Hell, I sure know the strip and check, you bet." He snatches up one of the boxes, first with one arm, then with two once he realizes the weight awkwardly and swears under his breath. He lugs it over to one of those unoccupied beds, takes a seat, and starts disassembling, assessing, and reassembling them with expert care and a little embarrassment.
Redshift Operators	Candy's response fails to catch anything in the astronaut's emotions, or maybe there's just no visible response? "Yeah." They say, then after another over-long pause, "Finishing all your objectives as fast as possible involves waiting sometimes. It took me a long time to figure that out." They're almost immediately back to the interior, sitting on one of the old couches and going back to diagnostics on the tablet.
Remee Halcyon	"Ah, well, apparently the people who made it were killed or skeletized," says Remee to Petra. "Or made into skeletons or something like that, so..." Remee's nose wriggles shortly after Pramanix gets her attention. "Oh - I'm here because I had to drop off someone - oh, you mean why am I in the Watch! Well, it's... sort of a long story, you know..." "... The short version is my family's all evil and I need some help destroying them. You know, just that sort of thing," she says. "I'm sure you get that sort of thing all the time," she says, sincerely.
Charlotte Newman	Complimented on her suit, Charlotte leans back and lifts her hands, "Eh? ..Thank you. It's just a civilian model, not the most practical." She nods once, though, "I'd be happy to assist."     Resting a hand on her breastbone, she murmurs, "Come forth, my other self."     A figure twists out of her silhouette, mostly metallic, with glowing pink eyes and blue shining from underneath armor plates. While the legs are wrapped in chains, the persona Galatea leans into the tankship's cockpit to collect containers. One is handed to Charlotte, while the apparation carries two others while floating behind her.     "This is the first time I have ever been in space," she remarks, "It's been a unique experience. I only hope I'm not a bother to those who are so much more acclimated."
Redshift Operators	Through a window to the kitchen, the massive giant. The one good eye on his spacesuit gleams in the shadows of the poorly-lit area. "'The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' Expect blood." Is all he says. After all, this group will be there to support Remee a lot!! So it's up to Red Giant to help assure her that they're there to support her lots in the fight against her family!
Liza Grier	Just slightly, so very faintly that someone other than Rita could miss it, Liza smirks at Red Dwarf stumbling with the crate. "I know you helped with that favour I needed for the frame expansion, but my ship's not exactly big. Most of it's taken up with necessities." Apparently, a cute little pool for Rita is a necessity. "That means I only have high-value cargo to offload here. Which means heavy. I've got plenty more where that came from."     She's just leaving the room when Violet pokes in. "Good to hear. Pull it in. Since we're doing all the hard work, we should get first dibs off the top, right? I'm just getting drinks. No point wasting telecrystals for a five minute walk." She hears 'Rose can't walk right now' and just says "Sounds like you had a fun night." on the way past. "Not really sure how that guy does it with his hardsuit gloves on, but if you want to help him, be my guest."     "Skeletonized." she corrects Remee, utterly unnecessarily on account of nobody actually being skeletonized. "It's like spaghettified." she adds, without elaboration. "Can't say we do. My family is pretty normal, and I haven't talked to them in years. Rita's are great."     This, of course, still involves passing Petra and Charlotte. Her idea of alerting them to the option of slacking off for a bit is "You can have the fashion talk in the lounge before the food gets dry, girls." It's not great to hear, coming from a woman wearing a cutoff top, sparkproof pants, and boots solely chosen for paramagnetic insoles, who is currently in the process of letting beads of sweat just turn to ice on her arms and abs. She's just about to disappear from view, then takes one step back. "Oh. You two drink? What's your preference."
Petra Soroka	So~ What are you here for?     "Ah," Petra draws out her words as if she's grasping for each one with increasing effort, "I suppose I just, well, um," She breathes in and out, "I'm a mech pilot, this is where I belong, helping people."     But hey, you need to cross a gravity border again, just yell. Someone can hold your hand.     She snipes back after Red Dwarf while he moves to help Liza, "You try to hold my hand and you'll see what I really have the stomach for!" She stares after him for an extra second, eyes filled with disproportionate venom, as if she wants to say something more, but then she turns away.     This is the first time I have ever been in space,     "Oh really?" She's still automatically moving, unpacking boxes from her mech, but her eyes are watching Galatea. "That's rare, isn't it? Basically everyone I know has been in space forever, though, I guess I mostly grew up off-planet. Don't worry though, you're doing fine!" Liza's comment pulls her out of her chatter, "I guess it would be nice to sit and talk with everyone for a bit, rather than walking around and trying to greet people in passing. I, uh," She seems to change her mind in the middle of the sentence, "I could drink, anything I guess?"
Rita Ma	"Remee Halcyon! I think you said so on the radio. It's a really pretty name!" Rita's smile becomes a little wistful when her new acquaintance insists on jumping right into the cleaning anyway. "Okay! The gejang will still be here when you're done!"      She gasps softly and clasps her hands together when Liza mentions drinks. "Really? You will? I mean, you don't have to go to all that trouble, but... thank you, Ms. Grier!" Rita doesn't look the sort to get that excited about alcohol. Maybe it's just really good?      "Oh, that's okay, Ms. Violet! I think we have plenty of food already. Aren't you gonna have some?" Rita glances anxiously over in the direction of the garage. "I could bring a bowl out for Ms. Rose, too. Is she... okay?" Obviously not, but Rita's asking more to reassure herself than anything else.      "Petra! That's a really pretty name," Rita says, taking a single crab leg to chew on while working on clearing out more garbage. "It is kind of a lot of people here, but... 'many hands make light work', right?" The handwave leaves her briefly mesmerized. "Wow. How did you learn to do gravity tricks like that?"      When Petra and Charlotte return, she adds: "I don't think you'll be a burden, Ms. Charlotte. There's a lot of the station that has gravity and needs cleaning, still!" Then, betraying her middling experience: "Maybe thinking of it as like swimming will help?"
Rita Ma	Rita, glimpsing Liza's slight smirk, fails to show the same restraint of expression. She's forced to cover her awful little smile with a hand instead.      There's a pause while the gears in her head turn. Then she says, with a little trepidation: "Ms. Grier? Is 'spaghettified' like the thing you did with those french fries?"
Charlotte Newman	Even in the low- and no-gravity areas, Charlotte carries her box in her arms. Galatea doesn't seem to care either way, considering it floats everywhere anyway. She does step aside for Liza, taking a moment to glance after her, then down at herself. Was this too much? But then there's that group in the hardsuits-- no, Charlotte decides, this is fine.     "I don't drink, but thank you," she offers to the spacer's question. She considers Petra's comment, giving her a nod, "Thank you. I am trying. The areas with poor gravity catch me off-guard a lot of the time."     "That might help, thank you, Rita," Though it's clearly a matter of needing practice, even with this in mind. The girl's zero-g 'steps' are as awkward as ever.
Karlan Nobles	"Evil family members... Hm. I'm glad we don't have to worry about anything like that." "Mhm. Mhm. Of course." SilverAsh wisely turns his attention away from Remee to Petra while Pramanix tries very hard not to stare right at him the entire time. Pramanix breaks right out of that awkwardness, though, with a clap of her hands and breaking into a brighter smile again. "Well! Rest assured, we're all fighting the good fight for each other and our people, so you'll have plenty of allies in all this." SilverAsh, meanwhile, raises an eyebrow at Petra's response. "That's a fine mission statement, but what drives you personally? Be it ideals, fame, fortune, or something else entirely, rest assured that you won't be judged here, especially if we're to share drinks. Will you need a hand with those, Miss Grier?" If nothing else, SilverAsh is still an extra set of hands. Charlotte's talk of acclimation to the environment, meanwhile, has Pramanix shuffling/floating over that a way. "Oh, I've got a trick for that now. If you just-" She pauses, only then realizing she's using her tail for a lot of mid air movements and redirection. She notices Charlotte not having such an appendage, then claps her hands together again. "So! How about you and your goals here, friend?  Is there anything we can help with there?"
Candy	What's Candy working on?      "Oh, some funny rocks to make the station work good," he says with a little bit of pride and a puffed-out chest. "I could whip up a workshop for you, too, it's just..." He twirls an index around. His hair's been bound in a ponytail to keep it from his eyes.      "I'd work on the gravity too, but my friend says it fucks with my brain to fix that much shit in the same day, or something. But you know what?"      "The spaceperson is right."      Candy waits, exactly as they'd advised, for his tools to gather at the vents. And then they promptly gather themselves up in a cacophonous clang, before a canvas buckle straps tightly over the disorganized heap, binding them to the workbench.      "There. Now all I gotta do is get them rocks," he says, pointing at the rare metals, "Into a shape that fits into the generator. ...the first one, not the diesel one."      "Then... probably take a break and enjoy some home cooking," he says with a little smile, sniffing the air.
KNK	'Sounds like you had a fun night.'     "It was pretty exciting! I got to blow the whole place afterward. Not sure how many people were still inside. Though it was Rose who did the rigging. She's just better at that." Violet looks vaguely put out by this imbalance.     'Aren't you gonna have some?'     "Oh, sure, I'd love to!"     'Is she... okay?'     "Mm, mostly? Should probably bring something for her, yeah. Can only give her something hard if she's taking a break, though, you know." Alcohol and precision work don't mix.
Liza Grier	'Ms. Grier? Is 'spaghettified' like the thing you did with those french fries?'     "No, that's deep fried." Liza says, partially full of shit. "You know how when an elevator drops, you feel that lurch? Spaghettified is when something falls into the event horizon of a black hole. It falls so fast it gets pulled apart into a nearly infinitely thin string. So, you turn into spaghetti. Like being skeletonized means you get turned into a skeleton."     'I got to blow the whole place afterward.'     Liza raises an eyebrow. It's sort of hard to see. "The whole place?" She absolutely knows what she's doing. "I didn't know you had experience. Thought you were in for more intimate ops. We'll have to compare techniques."     'I don't drink, but thank you'     "No cops in space." says Liza, clearly wearing a joking smirk. A second later, it slides off her face. A blink of her slightly too red eyes passes. She thoughtfully clarifies herself, with the tone of an EOD communique, "Well. No cops within half a klick of me, at least." Then, back to a half-assed grin. "Try something new." She claps Charlotte on the shoulder as she passes, and that alone could send her spinning.     She yells towards the maintenance bay when she has a direct line to it on the way out, "If I see a fucking half-spheroid coming out of that room I will drop you where you stand, Candy!"
Remee Halcyon	"Aww, thank you!" calls Remee, to the various well-wishers. She finishes making a cycle of the lounge, grabbing all of the trash she can and going to put it in the right spot. "And I think it's pretty cool!" she says to Liza, in passing. "If you've got the sorta rep that can pull it off! I don't know if I can be nearly intimidating enough, but I'm gonna give it a shot sometime!" "... So why are *you* in the Watch? If I can ask," she says to Pramanix next.
Karlan Nobles	"The freedom." Pramanix answers Remee quickly at first, letting that sit for juuuust long enough to be an unsatisfying answer before continuing. "I wanted to get away from all the... Everything. The rules, the procedures, the indoors." "The paperwork." "The paperwork. Translating ancient texts is..." Pramanix sighs dramatically. "It's necessary, but it's so tedious. I can't do this all the time, of course, but... It's the most exciting way of doing what I can with the free time I do have."
KNK	"Rocks into a... oh, I get you." Rose, in an unusually-fully-unmasked state, feels around her cheeks as if searching for something, but doesn't find it. Nothing about her teeth is out of place, either, or at least, she doesn't remark upon it.     "Yeah, don't worry about it. I only need a few things to get 'good enough' done." Though even 'a few things' is challenging to find, given her requirements, in a garage that hasn't been well-kept for a bit.     "Huh," she says, a few very loud moments later, "neat trick. No idea how you did it." But getting a bunch of things in one place, and a bit of waiting, makes it a lot easier to see through the remaining mess and pick out what amounts to a collection of pliers, netting, and a small blowtorch. The netting holds her against the wall while she bends forward and goes to work, cutting and pinching small pieces into shape. All of these are 'already broken,' ad it's just a matter of getting them out of the way so they don't drag and tear out anything else in the process, and then getting something over top to prevent impacts.     It's not so different from an organic body, in that respect, outside of the fact that it's not slowly regrowing beneath the surface. She'll need to remove and replace parts, later.     All in all, it shouldn't take her that long, but plenty enough time for Rita to get out to see her working.
Petra Soroka	Petra looks up from her conversation with Rita, noticing that the box she was in the middle of transporting has drifted away in her absentmindedness. "Maybe we should go sit down somewhere with gravity? Now that I'm thawed out a bit, I'm feeling a bit hungry." She looks relaxed, her feet slowly drifting up from the ground halfway into what approximates sitting in zero-G. "Did any of us bring food? I've just got crates of blood bags, but that's only helpful if one of us happens to be a vampire." She laughs a little bit.
Redshift Operators	There's a crashing noise from the medical area as the cyborg drops something on her foot the moment Petra says that. "*Have I told you one of the legends about--*" She starts, before tripping a little on something and interrupting herself again with a weird vocalization.
Petra Soroka	Petra stands back up at the noise, alert, then blinks in confusion and coasts herself and her box over in that direction. "Me? We haven't even been introduced, I definitely haven't heard any... legends?"
KNK	'We'll have to compare techniques.'     "Rose had her hands full, so somebody had to take care of everyone. Mm-hmm, I'm usually into the quieter settings, but... oh, you should see what Rose can rig up when she can give just one person her full attention, too. It's the, uh... what's it called... like, spatial reasoning? My head's fuzzy, so, sometimes I end up missing pieces. Like if you tie a ribbon just right so it looks fine, but pulling on it makes it all come loose instead of tighten. 'Cept, by accident."     Whether or not that was a clear explanation of anything, Violet does get back to work hauling stuff in. It's a mix of 'everything that could be grabbed' when one of KNK's own safehouses was lost, so it's perfect for stocking a Watchtower, if not well sorted, considering the circumstances.     She waves to Petra and Charlotte on the way. "Hey, hey! We said hello before, didn't we? Or didn't we? Sorry, I forgot! Oh, but I'll be right back." And she will, in time for refreshments. When not weighed down, she's pretty quick.
Liza Grier	True to her word, Liza returns in not much longer, lugging a larger, green crate under one arm, what looks like an oversized toolbox in medical white with the other hand, and a very different, glass top crate with pneumatic corners, the rough size of a folding chair, on her back.     The first two she simply tosses with very loud thuds, one jingling and one sloshing. The third, she sets down in the lounge, across from the TV and forming a triangle with the cushy sofas, depresses the corners, and causes the glass surface to smoothly rise on telescoping legs, forming a cemicircular 'counertop' with enough diamond racks to be useful, and revealing the dizzying number of micro-bottles and glittering glasses in the box beneath. A miniature silver apparatus blazes with a tiny point of blue flame when she fires it up.     "Rita, can you take the ordnance to the crew? Anyone else, crate to medical. Plug it into the refrigeration unit." One is a polite request, the other isn't.     Anyone feeling cheeky enough to watch when the box contents are checked will see that the former box is filled with five, cross-stacked, military-grade missile warheads --the kind that only come from expensive combat aircraft-- removed from their housings and carefully separated from their electronic fuses, with a logo for something called VAKT on the side.     The other box is filled with bagged blood and vial material for tissue and bone grafts. This would not be remarkable, save for the fact that the storage is not medical grade, but just garden variety sterilized laminate, with blood types written in black sharpie over plaster tape, ostensibly in Liza's own handwriting. Easily fifteen gallons of the stuff, neatly separated. Whole blood. Extracted core tissue.     Humming something to herself, Liza is now a blur at her absurd microbar; the only thing she has treated gently the entire time. She has Rita's favourite in mind, first, bright red near the top and fading abyssal black near the bottom, violently fizzy and smelling faintly of triple sec and copper. Since Petra said 'anything' is fine, Liza seems to have decided something indecipherable about her alcohol-drinking character and laid out what looks like fourth shots worth of white gummy bear in a glass. She sounds like a machine gun mixing white russians for one Karlan and something distressingly pale blue for the other.     "We should really be taking some fucking inventory, right? It's not like we coordinated stock. Newbie. The rich one. Take a census, would you?"
Remee Halcyon	"Food - I brought some supplies in with me when I arrived, but if you want something quick..." says Remee, who's finished cleaning up. "I did bring some spare jerky with me!" She floats over next to Petra, and digs in a pocket. "Let's see - no, wait, that's the ammo pocket..." In the right one this time: "Let's see," she says, pulling out some unbranded vaccuum-sealed bags. "Let's see... Venison? Or if you want something less gamey, I've got some sasquatch left, or there's-" She gets orders. "Right, yes!" She kicks off, floating over to start jotting down a quick count of things on her cell phone, leaving the unlabeled bags floating where she'd just been.
Rita Ma	Rita's face progressively assumes the expression of a kid being told a horrifying campfire story as Liza explains. "But that'd mean you'd fall for..." She crosses her arms and shivers. "Eugh. And I thought it'd be a really neat food thing."      Once she gets a moment free, Rita ventures back into Liza's ship, returns with a couple of smaller thermoses of green tea (being safer to drink out of in zero G than an open cup), and brings them along with a couple bowls of gejang into the bay where Candy and Rose are working.      For a moment after entering she starts to float away, but then finds some way to anchor herself to the floor, and wobbles her way over to them. "Here you go, Mr. Candy! Here you go, Ms. Rose! It's pretty spicy, so take it slow, okay? But it's sticky enough it ought to hold together, I think. ... You're not doing any semicircles in here, are you?" After exchanging pleasantries and fretting over Rose's legs a little, she makes her way back out more fluidly, just hopping across the room and towards the door.      Back out in the lounge as Liza does her microbar thing, Rita waves Petra over: "I've got the food set up right over here! Come in!" As promised, the spicy brined raw crab, hot tea, and seaweed soup are still in abundance, though Rita's periodic snacking on the legs threatens to deplete the capacity for seconds.      As she's shouldering the ordnance crate with remarkable ease- "Of course, Ms. Grier!"- Petra's joking offer makes Rita suddenly perk up. "Oh! Blood could be... useful. Right, Ms. Grier?"      When she finally returns from her second errand, Rita collapses onto a couch, accepts her ominously-colored drink from Liza with an adorable eagerness, and drinks it very substantially faster than one is supposed to.
Candy	"Oh. I ask, and then I play for it," he says with a little smile. "And if I win, I get it."      Candy is quiet for a little while, assisting by handing Rose any tools she might find more convenient to borrow. Following the astronaut's advice, he doesn't chase after them when they go flying off, unless Rose asks for one. When she's finished, he returns to his original, funny-rock related task at once.      The maintenance bay is, for one moment, awash in a multitude. For some perplexing reason, Candy also shouts at the exact moment it happens--over countless hammer strikes, drilling, sawing, hissing and maybe a blender, all compressed into a single second. "Sorry! Sorry... I thought maybe I could do it quiet," he says laughingly, as an enclosed cylinder gripped with metal tongs appears in his hand. In places it shows the marks of a hammer. The bay's blowtorch, having blinked towards Candy in much the same fashion, now floats away in a spiral. "Then the next thing I know my friend is talking about meters and stations and shielding and all this other bullshit, and I know it's not happening quiet."      With a grin, he shrugs. The meter on the cell is certainly archaic in the extreme by the standards of either Rose or the station--it looks like it belongs on the front of an antique radio. "And the yelling, well... that, I just thought would be funny. Anyway, I beat my friend a lot." He chuckles. "Be right back."      He is gone in an instant--a disturbance in the generator room is the sign of his presence. A note is left there with instructions on safe handling, should its removal be necessary. Despite its aged appearance, it should interface rather well with the generator, and keep the place running without the need to account for invisible death gas.      "There," says Candy, returning a moment later, wiping his hands. "So, what happened to you? You pick a fight with a land mine? You shouldn't do that, ah? Hahah."      From the man who called inanimate objects idiots and bastards, "You want payback?"
Charlotte Newman	"No cops in space."     "Try something new."     Charlotte shakes her head, "I understand, but I just don't enjoy the flavor. Alcohol has been a part of humanity for as long as there has been a humanity, but there are still some people it just doesn't agree with." She gives it some thought, though, as Liza's clap on her shoulder sends her spinning in zero-G again.     "If you have something non-alcoholic and obscure and unlikely to make me sick, I'll try that. As dangerous as it might be to say to a space traveler, 'Surprise me'."     "How about you and your goals here, friend?"     Galatea is the one who stops Charlotte's uncontrolled spin, redirecting the girl to a surface she can bounce off of with her feet in a more controlled fashion. It takes her a moment to realize why Pramanix cut herself off from the 'handy tip' part, which prompts a little laugh when she figures it out, but the girl moves on to the saint's more completed question.     "In a general sense, I have realized the power of my true self and want to use it in ways that will legitimately make the world a better place," her statement is confident, even if it's kind of vague, "In the more immediate sense; something feels very wrong in Lampport, with the reverse side of the world reflecting and twisting the wishes of people who live there. For their safety, I feel obligated to stop it."     "Newbie. The rich one. Take a census, would you?"     "--Ah, yes, inventory would be a good idea," Charlotte nods once to this. Beside her, Galatea twists downward to deposit the crates it was carrying, and the girl places her cargo on top. From one of her suit's pockets, she produces-- an ordinary cellphone, pulling up the notepad app, "I'll get started right away."
Redshift Operators	The gruff bastard senses an opportunity to pounce. "*Vampires*, huh? Nah, WD, I'll take this one." He slaps the crate he was working on closed and then slides easily up to the boundary of the gravity, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorway. He briefly tilts his head at Liza, silently indicating her to Petra Soroka. "They say, you know, *something happened* and *maybe* made her a *vampire*. They say she barely sleeps, they say she doesn't go near sunlight, she's always got all that blood, and..."     The cyborg medic is finally extricating herself from the medical area and is nodding rapidly about what he's saying, the one time she's encouraged this. He tilts his head back, looking down the nose of his faceplate at her. "You'd better be careful, huuuuuuh?" Clearly he's continuing his light hazing, though the dramatics of it have flipped it such that his ninja ally supports at least this part.
Liza Grier	'Oh! Blood could be... useful. Right, Ms. Grier?'     "If she made sure it's clean, sure. I still have a lot from the weekend. We've still got about forty litres on lower deck." That means Rita's space. "So don't sweat it." she says, whipping up something like a slightly sweetened mai thai for Remee out of the closest synthetic equivalents she has.     "Violet. Can you check with Rose what spare parts they have left in the bay? Mauler's beat to shit again and needs a fix up."
KNK	"Oh, Rita, you're here, too? Crowded station, today." Rose accepts the food and drink with a look like she's thinking hard about something, but just says, "You didn't have to, but thanks."     It's wasted on me, but I'll take it, anyway.     She takes a break to very slowly eat some of it, drink a little, and then stores the rest under her netting while she chews.
Liza Grier	'If you have something non-alcoholic and obscure and unlikely to make me sick, I'll try that.'     "Then have some tea." Liza says. Her voice becomes effortlessly dangerous for no reason. Like the suffocating, boiling cold of space, right outside the window. "Rita worked very hard on it, so be sure to appreciate it. Got it?"
Redshift Operators	When Liza discusses how she has vast sockpiles of blood on the lower deck, the bastard tilts his head and makes a little presenting gesture, subtle and ominous, meant to spook Petra.
Karlan Nobles	"Gravity would be rather nice to get back to." "Already? Floating around has been so fun, though..." Despite her protests, Pramanix relents and heads on over to the crates alongside SilverAsh. Both of them let their curiosity get the better of them as they aid in getting those shuffled around where they need to go, but only SilverAsh seems to realize what he's actually looking at. He doesn't say anything about that, of course, although he does give Liza a vaguely knowing nod in passing while keeping his mouth shut. No sense making himself or his company a target, after all. Once they finish getting that sorted out with the group, Pramanix is all too eager to start lounging around properly, even going as far as splaying herself across one of the couches in the most stereotypically cat-like way. "We sure got a lot done, didn't we? And to top it all off..." She takes the White Russian, then 'oohs' at the sight of the texture of it all. Thank you, Liza dear. Nothing beats a good coffee after some work!" She sips, she pauses, she sips again, and then she keeps on sipping. It's not clear if she realizes there's alcohol in there. She does turn to Charlotte, though, nodding slowly in approval even at the vague answer. "Just don't let that feeling of responsibility crush you, alright? It'd be one thing if you chose to take that power and that position on, but... Do make srue to take care of yourself, too." SilverAsh, meanwhile, stays on the job, aiding in the stuff-counting process with all the skill of someone that's used to handling numbers and shit. "But of course, Miss Grier. Do keep an eye on Pramanix for me. Someone needs to make sure all her blood stays where it belongs." He pauses to stare right at Pramanix as she takes yet another quick sip of her drink, then shrugs and gets back to counting stuff up. His penmanship is immaculate.
Petra Soroka	"They say she barely sleeps, they say she doesn't go near sunlight, she's always got all that blood, and..."     Petra looks disoriented by the sudden rush of movement when the food is brought out, and tries to wrap her head around what the operator is saying. "Wait, there's actually a vampire here? Like, one of us?" "'If she made sure it's clean, sure. I still have a lot from the weekend." Petra looks at Liza nervously, increasingly worried by the repeated mentions of the blood that she brought up as a joke. "That's, this is just another one of those sasuke things isn't it, you're just hazing me?"     Rita calling her over makes her visible relax, at least Rita's nice! She slides her way into the lounge, feet effortlessly slipping back into proper gravity mid-step, and she raises her chin a little in imaginary defiance towards Red Dwarf. Taking the drink that Liza made for her, she sits down near Rita and wrinkles her nose with trepidation at the strong alcoholic scent coming out of her glass.
Redshift Operators	"I dunno. You think your everyday human is gonna be able to pull off the kind of slaughter she can...?" The bastard strokes his chin contemplatively. "Really? You sure...? Well, it's just what I've heard, you know." He does a quick little too-casual shrug.
Charlotte Newman	"Then have some tea."     "Oh, yes," Charlotte perks up right away, "Miss Rita's tea sounds lovely, thank you." She nods once to Liza, then glances the other way to nod towards Rita as well. Quickly she returns her attention to the inventory.     Beside her, the Persona Galatea twists and fades back into her body, merging effortlessly with her silhouette while Charlotte picks through crates to tabulate their contents, "A shipping manifest would be welcome, but I imagine we don't often want records like that floating around?"
Petra Soroka	Petra won't give Red Dwarf the satisfaction of a response, but she's watching Liza closely and is absolutely not watching Rita closely.
Liza Grier	'Really? You sure...? Well, it's just what I've heard, you know.'     "The hell are you two mumbling about over there?" Liza raises her voice, then moves her stare a little sideways. "White, you're on medical, right? When we're done, take the blood off the rookie's hands and double check it. If it's going inside wounded Watchmen, we don't want some prion disease shit in it. Life's already hard enough."     A pause. "Oh, and if you have any spare 'bags' in your kit, I could use about eight. Name your price." She says. "You more of a demon's blood or neurotoxin woman? I have enough in the tap to double up."     'Do keep an eye on Pramanix for me. Someone needs to make sure all her blood stays where it belongs.'     "I don't mind." Liza says to Ash, eyes down and focused on boiling something over the nanostove. "She's easy to look at, and it's pretty obvious where her blood goes. All I expect is if I need a favour back one day . . ."     'A shipping manifest would be welcome, but I imagine we don't often want records like that floating around?'     Liza handwobbles instead of using more helpful words. Without the gloves on, there are fresh healed scrapes over her knuckles. "Doesn't matter much. If someone gets visual on this place, they'll already know what it is. This is a one-gate cell; it's so atomized from the network that as long as you don't write down source and route, they can't take it back anywhere. The only thing it's useful for is the mini-ansible. It's two nodes off the Watch's main network."     She stops to think for a moment, now using the burner to set fire to a chocolate-coffee-coloured concoction that burns blue in fancy restaurant style, passing over what she calls a 'B-52' for Violet. "Arms and ammo are fine. Close combat weapons, I don't have a good lead on. Medical, fine. I've got some tertiary spares for the bay that I can part with. Even Commonwealth steel, fresh off Monday. But no staples to spare. Food, soap, water filters, air filters, bleach; I don't stockpile that like a prepper." A beat. "Can't trust the supply chain like that."
Rita Ma	"You didn't have to, but thanks."      "I didn't have to, but it's still nice, isn't it?" Rita smiles a slightly pained smile on her way out.      ----      Rita eagerly pats the spot to her left when Petra approaches, hoping she'll sit exactly where she does. "Oh! Wow, forty liters. You're the best, Ms. Grier!" She beams and nods back at Charlotte, too, oblivious(?) to the implied menace of the beverage exchange. The green tea she's prepared is, indeed, at least 'good' even to someone with a refined palate, with unique minty and earthy tones.      "Try it, Petra! Ms. Grier made it, so I know you'll like it. She's the best," Rita says encouragingly. She takes another too-big sip of her own spooky-looking beverage for emphasis. "I mean, you flew here, so if you can't handle it then nobody can blame you. But I think it'll be good."      Her smile quickly drops for scandalized shock at the gruff man's insinuations. "Of course she's human!!" she protests, half to the space asshole and half to Petra. "I mean, I'd know, wouldn't I? I've lived with her for a whole year, and- she has a pulse and everything! Her teeth aren't even..."      Rita trails off, trying to remember whether Liza actually has fangs or not.
Karlan Nobles	Pramanix can blame the alcohol (that she's finally starting to notice) for her face turning redder after what Liza says. SIlverAsh does that slow eyebrow raise thing, then nods once at Liza's request. "But of course. Never let it be said that I would ever withhold my end of any bargain." He affirms, lying as easily as he breathes. He does come back sooner or later, though, to get some of that blue drink in him. He pauses in mid-sip, then takes a few more before getting back to work. Unlike Pramanix, he's actually pacing himself. Pramanix, meanwhile, is giggling madly at the insinuations being made about whether or not anyone knows if Liza's a vampire. "Have you ever really seen her teeth, though?" She asks Rita with another muffled snicker, then looks over at the gruff bastard. "Say... What about you and your friends?" "Do any of you have fangs?"
KNK	Her work gets done, with a little help from Candy handing her tools, and then Candy's work gets done without Rose having to wait long, and he asks the obvious question.     "Not sure," she says, after a while of mentally sorting out the story. "Probably bounty hunters. Weren't in uniform. Too smart to be cops. Not enough gear to be spec ops. Caught us... sleeping, practically." Almost defensively, "Have to sleep sometime."     She shrugs, then gestures to her broken legs. "Lost a safehouse. Took out what we could, blew the rest. Couldn't get a read on everything that was waiting outside, took the back route, and got caught by some hero with gorilla hands. He was trying to hold on, but he spasmed when he got hit by a stunner, and then... you see?" She's mentioned something related to this once before, perhaps in passing.
Petra Soroka	Petra keeps glancing over at Liza while portioning out some food for herself, a mix of suspicion, anxiety, and interest. "For her to do all that though... she's got to be some kind of monster, doesn't she? I mean, we're all skilled in our own way, but someone who's a tier above that...." She turns back towards the group at Rita's protests, and shakes her head. "Well, you'd know her best, if you say she's okay then she's okay."     The white gummy bear sits on the table, taunting her with her overconfidence. "I'm sure it's good, it just uh, smells a bit sweet, so I'll have it after I eat a bit."     "Do any of you have fangs?"     "Yeah, that's right," she squints at Red Dwarf, "We can't even see your face, and you're being really insistent on making Liza look suspicious."
Charlotte Newman	"I know this game," Charlotte speaks up without looking up from her auditing, "Alien Intruder is really popular at Silver Springs. It gets talked about during lunch just about every day." Pausing, she glances up in thought, "I haven't done it myself, but I've heard enough to get the idea."     She does at least stop to appreciate the tea, admitting, "I've never had green tea before. This is very nice..!" Eyes closing, she lifts the cup in Rita's direction, "It's very refreshing, thank you." Yeah she's a rich girl but she's an American. Tea in Lampport only comes in two types: British and Twisted.     "Do any of you have fangs?"     That actually prompts Charlotte to switch apps on her phone-- to the Selfie camera. She briefly checks her teeth, as if she had never thought to do so before. Even though she wasn't the one the question was even directed at.
Remee Halcyon	"Annnnd... there! Sent." Remee finishes off the possibly redundant inventory manifest, since there's two 'rich newbies' in the Watch now? "Oh, and... adding in three packets of jerky, since nobody's bit on them, literally..." Then she looks up. "Hmm? Fangs?" "Yeah? I've got fangs?" She tilts her head. "Why are we asking? If someone needs a can opened, using a can opener is a lot easier, I promise you?" She sets aside her phone and kicks off to go grab some of the tea.
Candy	KNK do have to sleep sometime. "Ah, don't worry. So do the people that posted that bounty, ah?" Candy notes with a smile as he listens. Soon enough, however, his expression darkens into a momentary grimace at the mention of the attack.      "Stupid," he utters in empathetic annoyance. There's some hesitation, a little bit of silently contemplating the floor while he hangs on the rail. "You gonna be okay? If I can help, I will, you know. Me, I hear somebody has a price on their head, that makes me like that person more, not less."
Liza Grier	'Oh! Wow, forty liters. You're the best, Ms. Grier!'     Liza smiles. It is, for once, not by way of a mountain climber sarcastically appreciating the incoming storm. "You've been working hard. Tomorrow is a board room day. Once I get back, how about steak after? Or burgers? I don't mind running the coolers overtime; we've got plenty of fuel."     'But of course. Never let it be said that I would ever withhold my end of any bargain.'     "Oh, I wouldn't." says Liza to Ash, now wiping down the bar counter, with a mexican mule set out for when Candy gets back, dropping a shot of cream and whisky into a black stout, ostensibly for herself. "I'd just kill you. No point in being a bitch about it."     She meanders over to the actual lounge area, sitting down with drink in hand, and putting an arm loosely around the sofa that Rita occupies, displaying barely visible paper white scars. With one leg over the other, irregular dark red stains are visible on the underside of her boots. "Fangs? Is that the new fad thing?" she asks, half-caring about an answer. "I wouldn't recommend filing your teeth. Know someone who did. Not worth it. Especially at your age."     "Since we've got three rookies in the room, I thought I'd take the opportunity to ask. Why'd you join the Watch? I don't mean your grand ideal or your concept of justice, by the way. I mean your goal. Your concrete objective. What you think you're going to achieve, tomorrow and every day after until the odds finally catch up with you."
Redshift Operators	"Really? You know a bunch about 'em? I'm just sayin', it's what people say..." Then here comes Liza! Of course someone else steps in there.     "Ah, of course, <Ms.> Grier." The medic of the gang briefly breaks into an east-galactic cultural habit as she moves to gather the blood. "We tend not to make a habit of stockpiling extensively ourselves, beyond our personal needs, but we can put you in fairly immediate contact with some Hiveists known to keep stockpiles of biomatter." She says. "I'll certainly handle the requisite tests. It's *important* you have high-quality blood, for the most obvious reasons."     As for what kind of teeth the Redshifts have, well, there's a bit of awkwardness about the helmets. That is, until the grasp of a huge hand on Petra's shoulder. And another on Pramanix's. It's the imposing giant beside them, looming, at least a foot and a half higher than each.     The heavy breathing and gravel of his voice surge as he says: "Fangs?" He reaches up, pressing a button on his hardsuit helmet. The faulty motors whine and wail as the mask struggles to open, barely exposing the a mouth hidden in darkness... And his mouth pulls taut, a glinting row of perfect teeth in the shadows, beneath the too-bright shining green optic. Yet, it's hard to see, in the shadow. How many teeth? How long? Why so perfect, so precise, so hungry?     "What do you think?" The gravel-voice whispers.     He's feeling hungry because Rita's been making such delicious food! He hopes he can enjoy it in a little bit, and he hopes he can help clear up any questions about dental health here!!
Liza Grier	'I'll certainly handle the requisite tests. It's *important* you have high-quality blood, for the most obvious reasons.'     "Thanks, but it's not for me." Liza clarifies, waving her hand vaguely in the direction of White Dwarf. "I don't leave mine at the scene. And I'm confident at what I brought in. None of it smells off." She acts like she didn't just imply she can smell blood types, by gesturing at Petra instead. "The rookie brought some too, right? I thought I overheard that. Not to be a shithead about experience or anything, but every new Watchman has that trial period, right?"     "And I don't stockpile either. That's all the Sunday batch." she adds, growling with a hint of indignance.
KNK	"Heh... a price on your head just means you're that valuable, doesn't it? Everybody..." Rose sighs, like she'd wanted to make an aloof, edgy joke about it and tripped headfirst into introspection, tone-shifting to wistful. "Everybody wants to be wanted, right? Dead or alive. Preferably alive."     Right. Anyway. "I'll be alright. Had some bad luck, is all. But I might take you up on that, anyway, if there's a chance."     Elsewhere, Violet has found somewhere to stack up boxes of supplies (in the stockpile, having finally found it), gotten back in time to hear Liza ask about spare parts, and gotten to the garage. It's a lot of walking, but again, she's quite fast, with or without gravity. Just zooming down hallways, really.     "Hey, Candy! Liza asked about parts for the Mauler. You seen any? Or done, like, inventory? Someone was doing inventory, right? Oh, be back in a bit!" And then she's out again, to go find Remee and Charlotte and ask them if they've checked the garage, entirely forgetting that they'd also have to know what 'parts for a Mauler' look like to be able to usefully answer the original query.     A little even further later, and Violet is accepting a B-52. Her palate is better than her vocabulary. "Ooh, it's sweet! And really rich. Or is it thick? Richly thick? No, that's wrong." She spends a bit twirling it around to watch the layers wobble.
Karlan Nobles	Pramanix feels the the big hand on her shoulder, and she looks right up at the heavily-breathing giant. There's several moments where her eyes get that deer-in-the-headlights look in them, complete with eye dilation often associated with cats about to do something really stupid. In this case... She sits up to get a closer look at the giant's teeth. She stops short of actually touching his teeth, although she does certainly reach for a moment before stopping herself and just opening her own mouth to tap on her own fangs. "So... Clean. And different from everyone back home. I think." She pauses, then snickers and settles back down, clearly feeling that single White Russian quite a bit by now. "I don't think I've ever looked at anyone's teeth so closely, though. Hehe... But I can see you take good care of them!" SilverAsh, meanwhile, finishes getting some more counting done and is just staring at the giant SUPER HARD from the other side of the room. It is definitely a normal stare and not an analyzing one.
Remee Halcyon	> "What do you think?" "... What... big teeth you have," says Remee. It's the cannest of canned lines, but she can't think of anything else to say. Red Giant is... imposing. She focuses on Liza instead, grabbing some food and then floating over and getting down to a seated position in the lounge, sitting across from her. "Right! Well, I've already given the grand goal - dismantling House Halcyon, maybe building it back up better as one of those stretch goals?" "But you want the day to day goal, right? Well, I guess, some of it is... having something to do?" She folds her hands in front of her. "Which sounds I guess sorta petty, but - even if I didn't have my big goal, I'd need *something* to do, and if I wasn't doing this I'd be... off being a park ranger, or a trophy hunter, or a bounty hunter, or - something like that. Instead I'm slotting in 'Freedom Fighter' as my career, I guess? And like, actually helping people, instead of just working for a paycheck I don't need or for prestige I shouldn't want?" She shrugs. "Talking about like, what I'm doing tomorrow and the next day and the day after - starting out I'm trying to funnel the Halcyon money, at least as much as I can get my hands on, towards some decent charities... ones that actually do stuff, and aren't corrupt, and might need to start my own? I don't know, I'm still working it out." "And along with that... I don't know, might find someone corrupt and blow their house down. They say sunlight's the best disinfectant, and if all the walls are knocked down it can shine everywhere, right?" She grins, expecting a laugh at the joke, and taking a quick break from talking to eat all of the food she grabbed. She's a very quick eater.
Petra Soroka	"What do you think?"      Petra absolutely *squeaks* when the hand claps on her shoulder, and shoots into a rigidly upright sitting posture, staring directly forwards, not at the towering figure behind her. "Ah, uh, ahhh, s-sorry," She babbles for no reason in particular. She can feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, his grip tightening on her shoulder, sharp, bloody teeth protruding like knives from the darkness of that horrible mask, and. She's just staring forwards motionless, eyes wide and wild, mouth hanging slightly open, until he lets go.     The tension comes out of her like a deflating balloon. "What you think you're going to achieve, tomorrow and every day after until the odds finally catch up with you." Petra, now slightly crumpled, looks down at the floor. "That's... awfully personal, isn't it?" She raises her eyes to the glass of white gummy bear that Liza made for her. "But I guess, we're all allies here. I just want to become a better person. Someone who fights for the ideals worth fighting for, and really believes in them. And here, I know there *are* ideals worth fighting for." She abruptly reaches her hand out to the glass and takes a *way too big* sip, immediately choking and spluttering into a coughing fit.
Candy	"Sure, sure. I 'want' you alive, too, ah? Hahaha." Candy winks at her, and crosses his legs, since his hands are busy keeping him from floating away. "We should share mugshots sometime," He warmly adds. "I have some good ones!" Letting out a low whistle at how much remains to be done, he almost removes his hands to put them in his pockets. "Ah! Shit. Well--" Clearing his throat in mild embarrassment, he ends up taking a hand off the rail anyway to wave at the other member of the duo.      "Hey, Violet! I ain't seen none, or done any inventory, but I could whip some up even if there's not none. I'm gonna take a break, first, though. Just fixed up the generator with a new fuel thingy!" Glancing over at Rose, with a grin, "Oh, and did a little shooting the shit with Rose."      Speaking of... "I'm hitting the mess." He ponders just blinking there--but decides instead to try floating, instead, back to the parts of the station that have gravity. Rounding the corner into the mess, he helps himself to someone else's food and drink, for once. "Hey, you guys! Just got done getting fucked around by space shit in the maintenance bay. What've you guys been up to?"
Charlotte Newman	"Miss Rita and Miss Pramanix both asked me something very similar," Charlotte states evenly, turning her phone off, "Ultimately, making the world a better place. One step at a time. Society won't change overnight so we have to accept the little victories where we can."          "Though I doubt anything related to the Reversal could be described as 'concrete', I suppose my most immediate goal is to figure out why it has formed under Lampport. I don't even know if it's strictly a good or bad thing to be there in the first place."     "Beyond that, I'm afraid I don't have a very good answer for you."
Redshift Operators	The mask clamps shut, and Pramanix's and Remee's assessment seems accepted. The giant nods silently. For a moment, he stares back to SilverAsh across the room... and turns back to continue his work.     Weirdly, the one who speaks up in response to the newbie answers is... the mostly-silent astronaut. "I don't think those are the right answers." Their voice surges up suddenly, at least a few seconds after the last response from the newbie. "You should define exact objectives. Who you want dead, or a death count of a specific type of person. What resources should be where. Names of people who should live comfortably. You can't tell if you're completing your objective unless you do that." They're mostly motionless as they speak, just sitting up from the sofa near the conversation and staring blankly over towards it. "It's really important. You need to know when the objective is finished. You can make new ones after, but you need to know when the ones you have are done. Otherwise you won't be able to know what you're doing."
Liza Grier	Liza takes a long sip from her car bomb, watching Remee and Petra over the rim of her glass without blinking. Even with the whole 'clearly actually having medical albinism' thing going on, her stare still somehow feels too red.     'Well, I've already given the grand goal - dismantling House Halcyon'     'I don't know, might find someone corrupt and blow their house down.'     "You have them backwards." says Liza. "That last one is an idea. That first one is an objective. And you could accomplish it tomorrow." Something about her voice sounds off. An uneven inflection. A subtly improper pace. A slight, unsteady fry at the back of her throat.     "If what you're out to do is to destroy the Halcyon family, Why not?" The 'tiredly alert' look in her eyes feels more like 'quietly manic'. It's as if she could give Remee a burn with that stare. Worse when she leans closer. When she can tell that she isn't breathing in between sentences at all. "We could go to your family house tomorrow, and kill them all. It'd be that easy. What do you need to do that means it has to wait? What is buying them another day? Right now."     'That's... awfully personal, isn't it?'     "It should be fucking personal. And if it isn't, then make it personal. There's no such thing as just business here. And we don't deal in philosophy. If you're going to fight, then who are you fighting? Don't be fucking metaphorical with me. Name an ideal. Name who is in the way of it. Then tell me you'll get rid of them."     Petra spits up her drink. It takes Liza a second and a half of breathless staring for some part of her head to communicate to the rest that this was her own prank, and for her face to finally register a blink and let her start laughing. She leans way back in the sofa again, and slams about half her forty proof in one go, letting Petra recover in the gracious pause.     "You can get back to me when you want. It's important that you think about it, though. I've seen kids here --kids back home-- get in with the idea they're going to 'fight evil' or 'do some good' and then fall to pieces when they can't figure out who or what they're supposed to hit."     'I suppose my most immediate goal is to figure out why it has formed under Lampport.'     "We can work on that. I trust that there's a reason you haven't just called the Paladins and had it all taken care of by the big boys."     'Hey, you guys! Just got done getting fucked around by space shit in the maintenance bay. What've you guys been up to?'     Liza pulls in her gejang and begins eating with a tolerance for spice that brings to mind the possibility that she might not actually be a white woman. "Strip and check. Moving insides. Getting tired of moving and getting hammered instead." she tells Candy, who is Candy.     'You can make new ones after, but you need to know when the ones you have are done. Otherwise you won't be able to know what you're doing.'     "He's a good kid. You're lucky to have him." She adds to the other three, not looking at any of them in particular. It's a different kind of weird to hear, but vaguely wistful in a thirty five year old woman way is preferable to what she sounded like before.
KNK	Violet mostly sits on the couch while Liza grills newbies and gets them sputtering over drinks. She sits like someone who can't decide whether they want to kneel on top of the couch or sit with legs drawn up onto it while curled up, regularly shifting postures, none of which are even vaguely close to 'with both feet on the floor.' The black-and-namesake kunoichi garb only makes this behavior more distracting, but that's in keeping with a centuries-old (by the 24th century) tradition of ninjas being and dressing as flashy as possible.     Despite all the restless motion, she never comes close to unbalancing her drink.     "Having goals like that... isn't it fine? Or maybe not. I don't think I do, anyway. I want to say I used to, but I don't think so. It's always been 'what I'm doing today' and 'what I'm doing tomorrow,' for me. I made a calendar 'cause somebody said it'd help, but then I forgot I had it until... just now."
Rita Ma	"Tomorrow is a board room day. Once I get back, how about steak after?"      Rita bounces her leg giddily, even as her expression takes on guiltily shy notes. "Ah! Thank you, Ms. Grier! If it's really okay, that'd be great. You're too good to me."      Immediately after making suspicious dinner plans, Rita puts a hand on Petra's shoulder- the opposite shoulder from Red Giant. "It's okay! Mr. Giant is a friend, too. See?" It's totally opaque what Petra is meant to be seeing. "You can trust everybody here. I promise."      Rita's own good judgement may be cast into question when she leans in to Liza, takes the taller woman's left arm, and insistently drapes it around her own shoulders, obliviously(?) relaxing in total sunny peace while Grier growls about familicide.
Candy	"Yeah? I just got done making sure there was enough rods. Let Rose hold my tool and held hers a few times, too!"      Candy takes a nearby seat, having made himself a mule of some sort during a flicker to and from the bar. "I figure maybe I'm ready to get hammered too, and stuffed besides." He clinks his fork against the rim of his plate, then lifts his glass in a toast. "Salud!"      Candy introduces himself to Charlotte and Remee both. "Hi!" Sip. "Candelario Maria's my first name, but you can call me Candy for short."
Remee Halcyon	Remee leans back as Liza leans closer. "Ah... ha ha. You're intense, aren't you..." "Ha ha, I mean... why we aren't just going down there tomorrow..." 'Maybe I haven't fully come to terms with what 'destroying my own family' would entail and being able to list it as a vague goal is a whole lot easier for me to deal with instead of concrete steps including the ones where I may have to put most/all of them into early graves if they don't relent (and most of them won't relent) since I actually maybe still do care about some of them' is *not* what she says, because Remee Halcyon does not nearly have that much courage. What Remee Halcyon does have, however, is an out. "Well, I have a lot of family, including six siblings, who're all spread out, and the house itself is pretty well protected, especially against anything I could do to it personally so I'd need some help..." The thought of Liza blowing up the house does actually make her feel a bit uneasy. "... And, and, we're all pretty hard to kill! Like..." 'A demonstration', her nervous mind prompts herself. She quickly reaches down, and digs into one of her shoes, pulling out a hidden knife. "Like - like this isn't even going to faze me!" She holds out her left arm and stabs the knife into the middle of it, just below her elbow. "See? I didn't even feel..." Blood starts leaking out into the zero-gravity room. "Oh - I... should have... thought that through, does anyone have a towel?"
Candy	Candy flings a playing card towards Remee. "Catch it and crush it, yeah?" When she does, it harmlessly burns away into smoke, which billows outwards until the atmospherics blow it away to reveal a clean towel. "I believe you, ah?" He says with a smirk. "Would have believed you without the knife. How drunk are you? Not judging! Just wanna know how much catching up I got to do."
Charlotte Newman	"We can work on that. I trust that there's a reason you haven't just called the Paladins and had it all taken care of by the big boys."     "I don't trust them," Charlotte states bluntly, "I don't even trust the police my my own town."     Candy invades her personal space while she's refusing to elaborate on that; drawing her attention off Liza, "Ah?" After a moment, she recovers from her surprise and offers him a little dip of the head and shoulders, "Pleased to meet you, Mister Candy. My name is Charlotte."     Remee stabs herself. The girl's eyes swivel to her for a moment, then back to Candy, "Excuse me for a moment." Back to Remee, she raises her voice, "Persona--"     Her silhouette distorts and separates as the mechanical-like Galatea twirls out of her. Charlotte points, and in turn so does her Other Self; presenting an arm mounted cannon.     "Dia."     Unlike the prior combat, though, this shot comes out as a sort of 'pthoomp' as one might expect from something pneumatic, hurling a ball of light at the wounded wolfgirl. It's a healing spell, and just sort of passes through the skin with a cascade of white-yellow sparks.     Lowering her hand, with Galatea returning to her, Charlotte chides, "Please don't stab yourself. It's bad for your health."
Karlan Nobles	Parameters, specific targets, goals... All of that has PRamanix pursing her lips and scrunching up her face, trying to come up with an answer to all those questions. Even without the excuse of the strange milkshake, though, she still doesn't have a concrete answer for herself or that she can give to the astronaut or Liza. Even after hearing some short term goals, she still comes up with nothing, and she slips back across the couch again like she's missing bones or something. "Such hard questions... They're not bad, but.. Thinking feels too hard right now." She doesn't comment on the babysitting thing further. She does, however, seem slightly pleased in that conflicted head-wobbling sort of way. SilverAsh, meanwhile, stops staring at the giant after a while. It seems he's settled down a bit once Pramanix stopped gawking at his mouth and finally even settled in to finish his own drink (finally). He's going slow, though, apparently cool with just waiting to see if anyone else gets hammered first.
Remee Halcyon	Remee catches it easily, and then immediately holds the towel against her wound - more to keep blood from getting everywhere than anything else. "I haven't had any yet... maybe I should..." > "Sure! As long as you don't light your ass on fire to show us you're fireproof, ah? Hahaha." "... No, I - not fireproof, and I'll believe you when you say you believe me, yeah." >"Dia." "Oh! That's handy..." She holds up her cut-less arm. "Thank you." Even if it wasn't, strictly, necessary, it's still important to thank your party healer.
Candy	"They're not the cops you know," Candy asides to Charlotte. "Them Paladins. Just stupid for different, ah, not-cop reasons, sometimes. It's not that they think stuff is more important than people. They definitely get more done than dumb old pigs," he muses.      "The problem with them is, they want to treat the symptom, not the cause, you ask me. Helping people's great, but you'll never see them blowing up a diamond mine. Or a bank," adds Candy between bites.      Smiling fondly, "Well, not more than once, anyway," he notes with a chuckle. "Anyway, I'd take a Lilian or a Tamamo over all the uniforms in Rome."      Glancing over to Remee, he nods, taking another sip of his drink and leaning back in his seat, legs crossed. "Tequila Mule?" he asks, lifting his drink. "Tequila, ginger ale, lime. Pretty good!"
Liza Grier	'I don't trust them. I don't even trust the police my my own town.'     "Good. You shouldn't." says Liza. "But don't get them confused. Feelgood as it is to make the comparison, the Paladins aren't cops. They aren't security. They don't exist to enforce the law. And that means a lot when it comes to SOP."     "Some of them are in it for the reasons the propaganda machine tells you cops are, but unlike a real cop, they can clean up and keep their shit together long enough to get crammed in a uniform. Most are in it for what the Paladins really are. Some are in it, because like us, they have an objective. Keep it in mind when you're dealing with them."     "Cops get paid for projecting the idea of security, and the threat of death for whoever challenges the facade. They're a wall between the abusers and the abused. Paladins get paid to do shit. They exist to fix what the Commonwealth regulars can't. Paladins EF especially don't collect for existing. That makes a lot of them predictable, most of them stupid, and some of them fucking dangerous."     "And remember that only the last kind can really be reasoned with."     'Oh - I... should have... thought that through, does anyone have a towel?'     "Have some fucking manners." Liza groans in disgust. Candy has the towel. Oddly, the scattered blood falls gently back in to soak the fibres rather than the floor. "Take it to the rest of the medical trash White finished with. Yourself." She crams her last mouthful of crab down, barely stopping to think. "Candy. You can make a hemisphere now. If there's six households I'll need six of them and two redundant. I've got casings but no core material. Not using fusion for this one. Dirty bombs only."