insertmeathere | BRB FREAKING OUT

Hopefully she doesn't trip over Anders, who's found a book.

"Indoor voices INDOOR VOICES, OH MY GOD I AM SOOOO TRYING TO READ HERE."

||Stop reading.|| says Stacy, ||Reading leads to dain bramage.||

Okay, Anders can't ignore that. She tilts her head, quizzically, staring at a certain area of nothing in particular that COULD represent Stacy's physical being, which, technically, it does, since Stacy is the whole ship.

"Okay, that's like, completely the opposite of what reading does, number one, and number two, this is a book about quelling stress that causes cerebral cell death. Stacy, maybe YOU should read a book."

Zita trips, flails, falls, and gets up. She stares at Anders.

"Dude, you're READING?! Aren't you even slightly freaked out by all this?!"

"Well . . ." Anders looks up, a little sheepish. "Well, yeah, but - I just got all these yesterday, 'cause the book store down the road was closing and having a massive sale, and, look at this, four hardcovers for 20 bucks!" she holds out a copy of something young adult and fantasy. "Good deal, or BEST deal?"

"Um, awesome." Zita fidgets a little bit. "But, um, MEATSHIP?" she gestures vigorously at all the Stacyness.

"Yeah - freaking out can wait until after I find out what happens to Crystal McShinyfeathers and her rogue band of misfit heroes. Her noble uni-pegasus steed just got shot with a Dart of Despair and I think this author just miiiiiiiight be hardcore enough to kill off the Cute Animal Friend. Meatship'll be here in, uh, an hour or two, right? Right."

A pause, as Anders considers her manners.

"So, um, which one are you? I'm Anders. Hi."

"Oh, hi. I'm Zita. The spazzy one. The Halo fangirl?" Zita offers her hand to shake out of reflex.

Anders reaches up from the floor to shake her hand. "Spazzy covers a lot of us. Even me sometimes! When I'm not sitting in a corner reading. So, I'm thinking, constant beach party in the Sensorium? You know, when everyone else inevitably gets here."

She scratches the back of her neck. "Yeeeaahhh, that sounds great and all, but this is Stacy. Good things do not happen on Stacy. We talk about Stacy and good things do not happen on her."

Anders rolls her eyes.

"Maaan, I don't know about y'all, but I don't go in for the super depressing plots. As far as I'm concerned, until I lose a limb or two and get my hands replaced with robot hands because of some alien super bacteria, this is better than sleeping on my couch until 3 PM 'cause nobody will give me a job back home, or getting pepper-sprayed by underaged hooligans when I'm gettin' my rave on. I will MAKE good stuff happen on Stacy. I'm the mod's BFF."

Yeah, somebody's overconfident in their position.

That, or she's genre-savvy.

Zita thinks about that.

And thinks about that.

"You know, you're kinda right. This beats the crap out of doing my physics homework. I kinda don't want to die. That's a real danger here, remember?"

"Well yes, that is a possibility."

Anders taps her bottom lip thoughtfully.

"This is why I am waiting for a particularly friendly and badass character to show up, and by a combination of charm and blackmail glue myself to them for physical protection for ever and ever." She beams. "When in doubt, become a parasite!"

"I'd feel weird doing that to any of the ones I know. Though I definitely want to stay on the good sides of the werewolves."

"Um, but yeah. I think I'm totally going to pick up some kind of cool weapon now that I'm here?" Zita grins. Slowly. Bad ideas are forming.

"I wonder if Stacy picked up any sniper rifles?"

"I'll stick to pepper spray. I KNOW that shit works." Anders frowns and scratches her arm at the memory. Darn kids. "You should pick up hook swords, though! 660 times out of a 1000, they delivered a killing blow. In that Insert Warrior Here versus Insert Warrior Here show thing. Maori warrior versus Shaolin Monk." She beams. "That was a cool episode."

"Nepotism will only get you so far, my dear."

"Says you, and here you . . . are."

Oh, hey, then that makes nepotism getting someone only so far . . . really go to show just how far nepotism will get you.

"Angel, Angel, Angel -"

Meanwhile, there's a sighing hologram.

"Okay, your five minutes of idiocy are up. Shut up and let somebody else have at it."

Zita stops. She freezes. She gawks.

"YOU!"

"Yeah, me. Should I know you?"

It's amazing how much easier fangirl clarity comes to Zita than does rational thought in this situation.

"You're Tex! You're like... seven different kinds of cool. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!"

"That's...nice. Really." She pauses. "If you try to hug the hologram, I swear to god I'll find a way to hit you."

"Hug you? No way, dude, you'd kill me." She holds up her arms.

"Um... so I'm here." Zita exhales. Deeply. "Jesus @#$%ing Christ."

"Yeah, that about sums it up. Welcome to the meatship. We specialize in screaming horror and rampant stupidity. No, you can't go home, no you can't get better clothes, and no, you can't beat Sawyer without getting tentacle repercussions, sorry."

Another pause.

"That cover it?"

"..."

"Can I sic Bella on Sawyer? Nevermind how I know her. Just can I?"

"Depends. How attached are you to that arm? She'll probably take it off before she'll listen to you."

"I think I could talk to her. Maybe. Or I'd lose that arm we were talking about."

Watch her calm down!

"So, um, where's everybody at? I probably need to hit the possessions lockers..." She looks off in that direction. Zita sorta knows where things are buuuut not really.

"Mess hall, sensoriums, media rooms, trying to hang themselves in the sleeping quarters, how the hell should I know? I'm not keeping track of them every minute."

"Yeah, but you're linked into the system. You could potentially know a lot of stuff. If I were you I'd try to know all the stuff I could. That way I could find a body and get off this freaking boat."

Zita, your logic is infallible. Really it is. Except for the parts where it fails.

"What makes you think I haven't been? And guess what? Trying to find things out takes my attention off what the idiot squad is up to."

"Idiot squad?" Zita squints. "Is Grif awake yet?"

Zita, you see, is not above metagaming.

"Unfortunately? Yeah."

"Then this is further on than I know what happens. I know what happens until... until about the first mission thing."

She pauses. "Nobody's actively trying to kill us all right now, right?"

"I'm gonna leave that as a surprise. Kind of a trial run, see if you really did get popped just to be cannonfodder."

||Not actively.|| Stacy chimes up.

"Thanks, Stacy!"

"Tex, you could learn from Stacy. She's sometimes helpful."

"Friggin' Stacy, son of a-" Tex trails into a mix of obscenities and general grumbling. After a moment, she sighs.

"Fine. You know who I am; who the hell are you?"

"Holy crap! There's lightsabe-OH GOD MY HAND!"

"What did you do?" Zita skids to a halt and looks.

"Oh, I dunno, had my hand too close to the lightsaber when it activated."

He may be in shock.

"That... that doesn't look good." Zita pales. She looks around for any sign of something that could be helpful. She sort of fails at finding any such thing.

"HEYYYYY SHIP LADY! YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LIGHTSABER BURNS?!" she yells at the ceiling. Forgive Zita, she's having an interesting day.

||Apply a heavy application of lightsaber to cure them.||

Zita shakes her head. "No, no, that doesn't sound right." She grabs Allen by the arm. "I think there's a medical bay around her somewhere."

Drag drag drag drag drag.

BRB FREAKING OUT

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