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[For Kish and Basco]
Nov. 9th, 2012 05:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gibkenJoe had been feeling relatively relaxed, right up until Basco left, the infirmary door hissed shut behind him, and Joe found himself abruptly alone in a strange ship, possibly locked in and too paranoid to go anywhere alone, in case he accidentally screwed up the automatically adjusting life support system and hurt one of his two possible benefactors. That would be the absolute worst thing that could happen, he figures, so even if the door isn't locked, he's still effectively trapped, by his own worries anyway.
The system that runs their life support was incredibly well programmed, though, and it wasn't long before Joe stopped feeling like he needed to blink three times as frequently as usual. Taking this as a good sign, he slipped the mask off his face and took a cautious breath to make sure.
The air was breathable, maybe a little drier than he was used to, but not bad. At least he wasn't tethered to the table anymore.
He got up and paced for a while, testing most of his limbs to make sure he was still relatively functional, and tried not to over-think Basco's parting words. Without a chronometer, and with no idea whether they're still orbiting the planet, or travelling through space or possibly orbiting some other heavenly body, Joe has no idea how long has passed between Basco leaving, and Basco's promised return to 'set him up' in his own quarters.
Joe's admittedly a little excited at the prospect, even if it is temporary. He doesn't remember having ever had a space of his own. Raised in a Zangyack-run orphanage, he went straight into the military as soon as he was considered old enough to start training up properly.
What a joke, in retrospect.
Still, the idea of having a room all to himself is distracting enough that he doesn't even think to ask Basco any more of the questions he'd mulled over during his time alone, or unfortunately to pay too much attention to the micro-tour Basco seems to be giving him as they move through the ship and, apparently, down into the living quarters.
The room Basco leads him into, and then promptly leaves him in, is about as large as Sid-senpai's quarters had been, as a Captain. But, if possible, even more sparse. A bed, a side table, and a chest of drawers. Joe wonders who these rooms were originally meant for, whether it's just a converted holding cell or not.
He wonders a lot of things, as trapped in this room as he was in the infirmary.
The system that runs their life support was incredibly well programmed, though, and it wasn't long before Joe stopped feeling like he needed to blink three times as frequently as usual. Taking this as a good sign, he slipped the mask off his face and took a cautious breath to make sure.
The air was breathable, maybe a little drier than he was used to, but not bad. At least he wasn't tethered to the table anymore.
He got up and paced for a while, testing most of his limbs to make sure he was still relatively functional, and tried not to over-think Basco's parting words. Without a chronometer, and with no idea whether they're still orbiting the planet, or travelling through space or possibly orbiting some other heavenly body, Joe has no idea how long has passed between Basco leaving, and Basco's promised return to 'set him up' in his own quarters.
Joe's admittedly a little excited at the prospect, even if it is temporary. He doesn't remember having ever had a space of his own. Raised in a Zangyack-run orphanage, he went straight into the military as soon as he was considered old enough to start training up properly.
What a joke, in retrospect.
Still, the idea of having a room all to himself is distracting enough that he doesn't even think to ask Basco any more of the questions he'd mulled over during his time alone, or unfortunately to pay too much attention to the micro-tour Basco seems to be giving him as they move through the ship and, apparently, down into the living quarters.
The room Basco leads him into, and then promptly leaves him in, is about as large as Sid-senpai's quarters had been, as a Captain. But, if possible, even more sparse. A bed, a side table, and a chest of drawers. Joe wonders who these rooms were originally meant for, whether it's just a converted holding cell or not.
He wonders a lot of things, as trapped in this room as he was in the infirmary.
