[ Ian makes a valid point about the fact that it seems unnecessarily roundabout to go to the moon just to hide a face and whatever else Henries has percolating in his plans. But being surreptitious isn't the strategy, it's being so outrageous as to be easily dismissed - or to Lance's suggestion, being so outrageous as to hide in plain sight.
Nate glances back to the window, seeing half the moon just beneath the lintel, and squints a little before looking back to both of them. ]
Changing your hair and growing a beard probably loses its novelty after the first twenty years. If you'd lived that long, wouldn't you think you'd have developed a little flair for the dramatic?
[ Declared confidently, while carding his fingers through his hair — mostly, until they get stuck about halfway through because that's just how curly hair works sometimes. The point is he committed to his hair and beard decisions like twenty years ago and he's pretty content without bedazzling it or moving to the goddamn moon.
But anyway. ]
I guess the next question is... what do we even do with that theory? How do we prove it without going--
He probably already had it, and the time just made it worse.
[Johann certainly seemed like the type from what Lance saw, and although he's still hesitant to conflate Johann and Henries too much, he thinks it's probably safe enough to presume they're similar for now. Especially if they've been working together for so long, or if--and it's a distinct possibility--there is no Henries anymore, and it's just Johann posing as him when convenient.
As for Ian's question--]
We could just go to the moon. It would take some planning and resources, but I bet we could manage it.
[But that said--]
However, I'm not sure that it would be necessary to go that route. It's possible we have a method available to us that isn't an option for the general public.
[Might as well throw his own theories into the mix here, while they're on the subject.]
[ Nate nods along thoughtfully, because honestly, he hadn't gotten to the part where he should think about space travel as difficult. They're already in another world, and while he doesn't have a chit to call in with Morningstar he could always ask Gaby her thoughts on facilitating that kind of trip without having to pay a literal arm and a leg.
One ankle hooked up over his opposite knee, fingers drumming his thigh in nervous energy, Nate searches the empty air in front of him for a moment as what Lance says clicks.
A slow smile creeps across his face, the distinctive air of you sly dog making itself known when he eyes him. Accusatory, but only in the nicest of ways: ]
⧼ It comes out almost in tandem with Nate, just a little off-sync but close enough that he has to glance over faintly amused.
He's not so sure about space travel being feasible for them the normal way, at least not any time soon. From what he understands it's ridiculously expensive, and while he makes a decent salary it isn't take a weeks-long vacation to space decent. It would probably be a two-person minimum because going solo is stupid, and the financial logistics...
A gate would solve it in a fucking instant. ⧽
I wasn't here when they discovered them. Don't you have to... I don't know, go there first to turn it on or something? If not, if you just think and go... I mean, we could test the theory pretty easily.
[ A funny little dual conclusion, for which Ian earns a flash of a smile. A gate would solve most of their problems and probably raise a few others, but now that he's thinking about it Nate has to wonder whether they need to activate the thing from its factory settings at all. ]
It might not need to be turned on.
[ He points out, sitting up a little straighter. It occurs to him that the goon-hiring entity had a purpose for hiring the goons in the first place, beyond wanting the Displaced to be relatively safe in their endeavor - kidnapping part not included. ]
The person who hired a mercenary escort for us wanted us to find and activate those gates here on Earth. They were ensuring our success. Assuming that person is Henries - which it's gotta be - then he had a reason for doing so. Maybe he wants us to find him. I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that any gate on the moon is ready to go, probably in some kind of private, secure biome.
[Lance pulls his attention back to the room and away from the network, sending them both an attachment, though he'll explain that in a moment. First, he nods, glancing between Ian and Nate.]
I wouldn't be surprised if he wants us to find him. Johann too, presumably; Cassius sent us a lot of information referencing both. What I just sent you is a compilation of his messages, which include some we didn't have before; 019 is particularly interesting for the mention of searching for 'bridges', from someone who's related to Ball.
[Who, of course, sent the Displaced looking for the gates to begin with.]
Attachment 001 is also noteworthy, for Jovavich's contact with Johann regarding her search for something on two of Jupiter's moons. Johann seems to know she won't find whatever it is, maybe because he already knows where the gates are.
⧼ His eyes go a little bit distant once the attachment goes through. An elbow hits the couch arm and his fingers come to settle absently on his lips, that lost and distracted countenance of a guy intently reading.
Suddenly wishing maybe he had a little less tequila so he was firing on a few more cylinders right now. ⧽
So, moon gate. Pluto gate.
⧼ It feels like looking at a spider web from the wrong angle, just shy of two dimensional. Seeing strands and knowing they connect but without being able to make out the full pattern in complete detail from an aerial view.
A little distractedly, and spoken with the side of his finger still resting on his mouth: ⧽
Why shift from pluto to the trench? Because Ball found the gate for him and he didn't need to spend any more time on it? Because he couldn't get to it without... whatever was down there? Or because something in the trench was suddenly time sensitive?
⧼ Which is a tangent deviating from Nate's original moon theory topic, sorry man, that's what drunk brain does to him.
Another prime example-- ⧽
Maybe he found fuckin' Cthulhu down there and it spooked him all the way to the moon.
No...no, he needed the gates still, probably had tabs on several of them at the time, through Ball. Possibly more, since they knew where we were going.
[ He went over this with Ellie before, a little, tossing ideas back and forth like a particularly robust game of squash. Nate skims the material in Lance's attachment and wonders whether the reason behind pulling out of space real estate was because Henries realized he couldn't use the gates in their then-existing forms. He required the unwitting assistance of the Displaced to turn them all on, for whatever mysterious purpose. ]
Two groups of us volunteered. Two groups were conscripted and marched. Four gates were activated around the same time, which let us travel between them. That was deliberate, there had to be four groups.
[ There was a reason for it, some very specific mechanism, like hitting four panels in a puzzle at the same time to open a door. ]
In Shambhala there was this enormous tree at the center of the city, and all the legends talked about a sapphire that was studded in the middle of the trunk. It was supposedly this great source of power. When we got there, it was just a massive chunk of blue resin. All the "power" was just...tree sap that spread through every root and vine, the instant it was compromised with a flame, the whole city collapsed. It held it together.
[ With nothing to bind it, a once-great civilization was shattered and reduced to rubble. The source was gone. ]
Shifting from looking for a gate on Pluto to looking in the trench was more like...I don't know, it feels like moving away from treating the surface symptoms and going to the source. Maybe the gates wouldn't work without it?
[Lance is mostly following; when they're talking about subjects he has pieces to the amount of alcohol he's had isn't much of a problem, but he's much less clear on the gates opening and how it was done and the details of how the expeditions went. But he's got enough of what Nate's saying to ask--]
How many gates are there? There's the four that were turned on, one on Everest, one in New Rio, one here in new Amsterdam, and one in New Cairo, but there are more than that in total, right? One in New Beijing, one in New Magellan, at least.
[So okay, that tracks with what Nate's saying about maybe those four needed to be activated in such a specific way, but that might just turn on all of them, not just those four. If so, that makes sense, maybe Henries and/or Johann were looking for which four needed to be activated, or maybe Nate's right about finding something specific in the Trench that was needed to power all of them.
And that brings up an idea--]
People keep talking about how the point of Spinetail was to bring a 'lifeform' into existence, or something like that. It's been kind of generally assumed that might be us, and maybe it is, but what if it really is to power the gates, like you said? But more specifically, what if the gates are the lifeforms themselves, like Door was in Hadriel?
( A comment meant for nobody in particular, it just feels like it would be easier if he could map some of this out visually. Have some place tangible and with enough space to connect the dots.
Or maybe taking a fucking numerology class, because his math brain is mixing with his magic brain and it keeps trying to find symbolism where it might not even exist. )
I don't know about sentient, but I think the theory is that there's one tethered to every city. There are a hundred and four cities left in the world, which begs the question - do the cities exist where they are because of the gates, or do the gates exist where they are because of the cities?
( And then a beat later, like he's the biggest moron on the planet: )
I can make a fucking whiteboard, what's wrong with me, Jesus.
[ As an extremely visual learner Nate would also appreciate a decent whiteboard, but he isn't lingering on the woes of living in an exclusively digital age with paper in his lap, thumbing the worn leather of the moleskine he carried across half the world he left behind.
It could be as simple as that: one gate for each major city, activated once the first four were activated, like some kind of ignition switch. Ian also brings up the point that's bothered Nate since his last recreational visit to the gates - they're huge, and imposing, but not entirely otherworldly. There are stylistic conventions that attach them to this place, to their cultural norms.
Or their cultural norms were inspired by the gates themselves. Which is the chicken, and which is the egg? ]
That would be...a lot of life forms.
[ Nate points out, whistling lowly. ]
But why do they have to be "awakened" in the first place? Are they asleep or just not present? Like they need to be summoned or something, John Dee style.
[Lance is also all about this whiteboard idea; he can handle all this digital-only stuff okay, but he'd much rather have something tactile, so he'll definitely keep this in mind.
But for now, he can only focus on one thing at a time, especially since he remembers he has a drink and begins sipping it again.]
Aren't there like, five billion humans around currently? A hundred is a small number when it comes to 'lifeforms'.
[He isn't super invested in this particular theory, but he does feel like he should point that out.
But as for the question--]
No idea. Even after everything I've been looking into, it still feels like a lot of this doesn't fit together or is very vague. Like we're missing something really important about how it actually works.
( He's quiet for a second. Contemplative. The trip to the trench killed all but one of its members; if that's what brought them here... nothing good ever came from ritualistic sacrifice. He's assuming that's what happened, and it really feels that way.
His fingers tap his cup to the rhythm of the lyrics of a song rather than the beat itself. )
Wellp.
( Declared mildly and abruptly. )
Guess we're going to the moon or the Mariana trench. Either way we're building a suit.
[ Nate, so caught up in the possibility of going to the moon and potentially getting to shake some information out of Henries, looks mildly confused for a split-second before it hits him. Pressure. No gravity. Lack of oxygen. ]
...wow, I am really glad you're here, because I hadn't even thought of that part.
[ Shocking no one. ]
Space can't be that much different from scuba diving, right?
[Okay, give Lance a moment to consider that response from Nate, then knock back the rest of his glass of mostly-tequila. Terrible mistake, he's going to feel that very soon, but for now it's the only real appropriate response.]
The pressure issues are completely opposite, and there's radiation in space.
[Not that Lance is that sort of scientist, but those are two major differences coming to mind.]
[ Woof, the immediate response that garners is sharp enough to feel like a little bit of a slap in the face. A suit still seems too 'worst case scenario,' when the likelier option is that the gate is in a safe, stable place, ready for their arrival. All they have to do is think it. ]
Jesus, okay. I didn't mean scientifically, I meant thematically.
[ A little defensively, into the cup he's finally picked up once more: ]
When's the last time either of you calculated your air intake for a limited-time endeavor in an environment designed to kill you?
[He's still not drunk enough not to catch the tone shift, and his frustration with everything going on and people rushing into things clearly came across much more pointedly than he'd really meant it to when it comes to this situation. So backing up a moment, trying to focus well enough to say something that'll help without being more direct than called for--]
I try not to go into environments designed to kill me, just in general; that's definitely your area of expertise. I'm just here to bring up and worry about everything that can go wrong.
Yeah, I'm lying. The point is we're gonna have to be really careful with whatever we decide to do here. Best case scenario the hypothetical gates, which may or may not exist, lead to an environmentally sealed facility. Worst case scenario it's straight out into the open, in which case you're dead almost instantly. The mariana trench is like sixteen thousand PSI. For a frame of reference, a house is about fourteen. The moon's slightly better. If you hold your breath your lungs'll explode. If you don't, it's just the rest of the oxygen in your body that'll make you expand to twice your size, but at least your skin'll keep it all inside like a water balloon. You pass out in about fifteen seconds and you're dead in ninety, max.
( Not because he doesn't know Nate is smart. He really, really does. It's just his constant fear over the theme of protagonist syndrome that permeates through the displaced. Nate's definitely on the better end of the spectrum, but he's still branded action hero in Ian's mind. Outlining the gory details will hopefully hammer in how overly cautious they actually need to be. Being aggressively careful is what kept him alive in the early days of the apocalypse, before they made their safe haven in Crater Lake. )
[ Nate doesn't want to throw down that he understands pressure per square inch, he's a diver for Chrissakes, because he knows Ian is only trying to be methodical and thorough. Practical, rather than a buzzkill. So he takes the information as the advice it's intended to be, rather than a personal commentary on his potential ignorance, and laces his fingers together between his knees. ]
Okay, so, death by oxygen narcosis in a vacuum sounds bad.
[ Conversational and light, because he's attempting to look for contingencies to avoid the rigors and testing periods of developing a freaking space suit. ]
Alternatively, I can try to call in a favor with Morningstar. Gaby said I should go to El if I've got any ideas I want to see realized.
[Even though the tequila is really kicking in at this point, it's not enough to dampen the need to just stare at Ian in a mix of fascination and horror at that description. Seriously, gross, and he's seen a lot of weird ways people can die but still, gross.
He swivels the look for horror toward Nate at that last suggestion, though now it's more purposefully affected as a show of displeasure with the idea as he comments--]
If you mean about the suit, then just as long as you don't let them know I'm involved; I'm sure me dying on the moon would solve some problems for them.
[He's making a bitterly morbid joke, not actually believing that--or, well, not believing that they'd do anything like that even if the sentiment is probably accurate--but whatever.]
But if you mean about getting to the moon some other way, it wouldn't hurt to know our options.
( Forgive him, Nate. Launching into informative offshoots of lectures is just a personality thing and not a commentary on his opinion of the person he's talking to. You can take the boy out of teaching but you can't take teaching out of the boy.
Lance's offhanded commentary about moon-dying is not funny, it's really not, but the tequila's hitting him, too. It draws out a quick, unstifled snort from him that he tries to burry in his cup a second too late.
He clears his throat, still just a touch too much amusement in his expression when he joins them on Plan B. )
Yeah, I think maybe going through an organization for an official means of travel is probably our best bet. But, I'm--
( Framing, Fowler. Find a nice way to put it — nope, filter's a little too slow. )
They fucking hate you guys, though. I mean, sorry- maybe not you, for some reason your face is like an anti-hate forcefield—
( A kindly gesture at Nate with his cup. )
But they definitely hate you.
( Sorry, Lance. )
So I'd really like to be there to see the expression on her face when you guys ask her for a moon ticket.
[ Nate quirks a delighted little smile at anti-hate force field in spite of the fact that he knows that's an inaccurate and biased assessment. In some parts of the world and in some small communities, his face instills a vicious, kneejerk sentiment of "I'd like to kill that fucking guy."
Admittedly, his first run-in with actual representatives of Morningstar was not good. It served as a pretty shitty impression if he's being honest, but he reached out to Gaby. Talked it out. ]
Won't know until I try.
[ Nate shrugs, because it's not like there's anything to lose in doing so. ]
Worse case scenario, they've got me on the hook for a future favor.
[Lance offers a shrug at Ian's affirmation of his status with Morningstar, and doesn't argue about Nate; it is pretty difficult to hate Nate, after all, and with good reason. Besides, although Lance doesn't regret his choices to push boundaries, there's no need for other people to get into trouble with anyone they don't have to.
He concentrates on pouring himself another drink--less tequila this time--and then settles back into his chair again.]
Don't owe them too much of a favor.
[Not that 'favors' are exactly binding contracts, but still.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lifetothefullest) wrote2019-08-25 08:38 pm
no subject
Nate glances back to the window, seeing half the moon just beneath the lintel, and squints a little before looking back to both of them. ]
Changing your hair and growing a beard probably loses its novelty after the first twenty years. If you'd lived that long, wouldn't you think you'd have developed a little flair for the dramatic?
no subject
[ Declared confidently, while carding his fingers through his hair — mostly, until they get stuck about halfway through because that's just how curly hair works sometimes. The point is he committed to his hair and beard decisions like twenty years ago and he's pretty content without bedazzling it or moving to the goddamn moon.
But anyway. ]
I guess the next question is... what do we even do with that theory? How do we prove it without going--
[ Vague gesture. To the moon. ]
And if it turns out you're right, then what?
no subject
[Johann certainly seemed like the type from what Lance saw, and although he's still hesitant to conflate Johann and Henries too much, he thinks it's probably safe enough to presume they're similar for now. Especially if they've been working together for so long, or if--and it's a distinct possibility--there is no Henries anymore, and it's just Johann posing as him when convenient.
As for Ian's question--]
We could just go to the moon. It would take some planning and resources, but I bet we could manage it.
[But that said--]
However, I'm not sure that it would be necessary to go that route. It's possible we have a method available to us that isn't an option for the general public.
[Might as well throw his own theories into the mix here, while they're on the subject.]
no subject
One ankle hooked up over his opposite knee, fingers drumming his thigh in nervous energy, Nate searches the empty air in front of him for a moment as what Lance says clicks.
A slow smile creeps across his face, the distinctive air of you sly dog making itself known when he eyes him. Accusatory, but only in the nicest of ways: ]
...you think there's a gate.
no subject
⧼ It comes out almost in tandem with Nate, just a little off-sync but close enough that he has to glance over faintly amused.
He's not so sure about space travel being feasible for them the normal way, at least not any time soon. From what he understands it's ridiculously expensive, and while he makes a decent salary it isn't take a weeks-long vacation to space decent. It would probably be a two-person minimum because going solo is stupid, and the financial logistics...
A gate would solve it in a fucking instant. ⧽
I wasn't here when they discovered them. Don't you have to... I don't know, go there first to turn it on or something? If not, if you just think and go... I mean, we could test the theory pretty easily.
no subject
It might not need to be turned on.
[ He points out, sitting up a little straighter. It occurs to him that the goon-hiring entity had a purpose for hiring the goons in the first place, beyond wanting the Displaced to be relatively safe in their endeavor - kidnapping part not included. ]
The person who hired a mercenary escort for us wanted us to find and activate those gates here on Earth. They were ensuring our success. Assuming that person is Henries - which it's gotta be - then he had a reason for doing so. Maybe he wants us to find him. I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that any gate on the moon is ready to go, probably in some kind of private, secure biome.
no subject
I wouldn't be surprised if he wants us to find him. Johann too, presumably; Cassius sent us a lot of information referencing both. What I just sent you is a compilation of his messages, which include some we didn't have before; 019 is particularly interesting for the mention of searching for 'bridges', from someone who's related to Ball.
[Who, of course, sent the Displaced looking for the gates to begin with.]
Attachment 001 is also noteworthy, for Jovavich's contact with Johann regarding her search for something on two of Jupiter's moons. Johann seems to know she won't find whatever it is, maybe because he already knows where the gates are.
[And he's already mentioned the Pluto thing.]
no subject
Suddenly wishing maybe he had a little less tequila so he was firing on a few more cylinders right now. ⧽
So, moon gate. Pluto gate.
⧼ It feels like looking at a spider web from the wrong angle, just shy of two dimensional. Seeing strands and knowing they connect but without being able to make out the full pattern in complete detail from an aerial view.
A little distractedly, and spoken with the side of his finger still resting on his mouth: ⧽
Why shift from pluto to the trench? Because Ball found the gate for him and he didn't need to spend any more time on it? Because he couldn't get to it without... whatever was down there? Or because something in the trench was suddenly time sensitive?
⧼ Which is a tangent deviating from Nate's original moon theory topic, sorry man, that's what drunk brain does to him.
Another prime example-- ⧽
Maybe he found fuckin' Cthulhu down there and it spooked him all the way to the moon.
no subject
[ He went over this with Ellie before, a little, tossing ideas back and forth like a particularly robust game of squash. Nate skims the material in Lance's attachment and wonders whether the reason behind pulling out of space real estate was because Henries realized he couldn't use the gates in their then-existing forms. He required the unwitting assistance of the Displaced to turn them all on, for whatever mysterious purpose. ]
Two groups of us volunteered. Two groups were conscripted and marched. Four gates were activated around the same time, which let us travel between them. That was deliberate, there had to be four groups.
[ There was a reason for it, some very specific mechanism, like hitting four panels in a puzzle at the same time to open a door. ]
In Shambhala there was this enormous tree at the center of the city, and all the legends talked about a sapphire that was studded in the middle of the trunk. It was supposedly this great source of power. When we got there, it was just a massive chunk of blue resin. All the "power" was just...tree sap that spread through every root and vine, the instant it was compromised with a flame, the whole city collapsed. It held it together.
[ With nothing to bind it, a once-great civilization was shattered and reduced to rubble. The source was gone. ]
Shifting from looking for a gate on Pluto to looking in the trench was more like...I don't know, it feels like moving away from treating the surface symptoms and going to the source. Maybe the gates wouldn't work without it?
no subject
How many gates are there? There's the four that were turned on, one on Everest, one in New Rio, one here in new Amsterdam, and one in New Cairo, but there are more than that in total, right? One in New Beijing, one in New Magellan, at least.
[So okay, that tracks with what Nate's saying about maybe those four needed to be activated in such a specific way, but that might just turn on all of them, not just those four. If so, that makes sense, maybe Henries and/or Johann were looking for which four needed to be activated, or maybe Nate's right about finding something specific in the Trench that was needed to power all of them.
And that brings up an idea--]
People keep talking about how the point of Spinetail was to bring a 'lifeform' into existence, or something like that. It's been kind of generally assumed that might be us, and maybe it is, but what if it really is to power the gates, like you said? But more specifically, what if the gates are the lifeforms themselves, like Door was in Hadriel?
no subject
( A comment meant for nobody in particular, it just feels like it would be easier if he could map some of this out visually. Have some place tangible and with enough space to connect the dots.
Or maybe taking a fucking numerology class, because his math brain is mixing with his magic brain and it keeps trying to find symbolism where it might not even exist. )
I don't know about sentient, but I think the theory is that there's one tethered to every city. There are a hundred and four cities left in the world, which begs the question - do the cities exist where they are because of the gates, or do the gates exist where they are because of the cities?
( And then a beat later, like he's the biggest moron on the planet: )
I can make a fucking whiteboard, what's wrong with me, Jesus.
no subject
It could be as simple as that: one gate for each major city, activated once the first four were activated, like some kind of ignition switch. Ian also brings up the point that's bothered Nate since his last recreational visit to the gates - they're huge, and imposing, but not entirely otherworldly. There are stylistic conventions that attach them to this place, to their cultural norms.
Or their cultural norms were inspired by the gates themselves. Which is the chicken, and which is the egg? ]
That would be...a lot of life forms.
[ Nate points out, whistling lowly. ]
But why do they have to be "awakened" in the first place? Are they asleep or just not present? Like they need to be summoned or something, John Dee style.
no subject
But for now, he can only focus on one thing at a time, especially since he remembers he has a drink and begins sipping it again.]
Aren't there like, five billion humans around currently? A hundred is a small number when it comes to 'lifeforms'.
[He isn't super invested in this particular theory, but he does feel like he should point that out.
But as for the question--]
No idea. Even after everything I've been looking into, it still feels like a lot of this doesn't fit together or is very vague. Like we're missing something really important about how it actually works.
[Which is frustrating, to say the least.]
no subject
His fingers tap his cup to the rhythm of the lyrics of a song rather than the beat itself. )
Wellp.
( Declared mildly and abruptly. )
Guess we're going to the moon or the Mariana trench. Either way we're building a suit.
no subject
...wow, I am really glad you're here, because I hadn't even thought of that part.
[ Shocking no one. ]
Space can't be that much different from scuba diving, right?
no subject
The pressure issues are completely opposite, and there's radiation in space.
[Not that Lance is that sort of scientist, but those are two major differences coming to mind.]
no subject
( He starts up at the same time as Lance, and falls off quickly with an emphatic gesture at him. That, exactly.
There's a slow incredulous shake to his head, and then he points at Nate with his cup. )
You are officially not allowed to be in charge of Operation Moonbase.
no subject
Jesus, okay. I didn't mean scientifically, I meant thematically.
[ A little defensively, into the cup he's finally picked up once more: ]
When's the last time either of you calculated your air intake for a limited-time endeavor in an environment designed to kill you?
no subject
I try not to go into environments designed to kill me, just in general; that's definitely your area of expertise. I'm just here to bring up and worry about everything that can go wrong.
no subject
( Short pause, and a gently humored follow-up; )
Yeah, I'm lying. The point is we're gonna have to be really careful with whatever we decide to do here. Best case scenario the hypothetical gates, which may or may not exist, lead to an environmentally sealed facility. Worst case scenario it's straight out into the open, in which case you're dead almost instantly. The mariana trench is like sixteen thousand PSI. For a frame of reference, a house is about fourteen. The moon's slightly better. If you hold your breath your lungs'll explode. If you don't, it's just the rest of the oxygen in your body that'll make you expand to twice your size, but at least your skin'll keep it all inside like a water balloon. You pass out in about fifteen seconds and you're dead in ninety, max.
( Not because he doesn't know Nate is smart. He really, really does. It's just his constant fear over the theme of protagonist syndrome that permeates through the displaced. Nate's definitely on the better end of the spectrum, but he's still branded action hero in Ian's mind. Outlining the gory details will hopefully hammer in how overly cautious they actually need to be. Being aggressively careful is what kept him alive in the early days of the apocalypse, before they made their safe haven in Crater Lake. )
no subject
Okay, so, death by oxygen narcosis in a vacuum sounds bad.
[ Conversational and light, because he's attempting to look for contingencies to avoid the rigors and testing periods of developing a freaking space suit. ]
Alternatively, I can try to call in a favor with Morningstar. Gaby said I should go to El if I've got any ideas I want to see realized.
no subject
He swivels the look for horror toward Nate at that last suggestion, though now it's more purposefully affected as a show of displeasure with the idea as he comments--]
If you mean about the suit, then just as long as you don't let them know I'm involved; I'm sure me dying on the moon would solve some problems for them.
[He's making a bitterly morbid joke, not actually believing that--or, well, not believing that they'd do anything like that even if the sentiment is probably accurate--but whatever.]
But if you mean about getting to the moon some other way, it wouldn't hurt to know our options.
no subject
Lance's offhanded commentary about moon-dying is not funny, it's really not, but the tequila's hitting him, too. It draws out a quick, unstifled snort from him that he tries to burry in his cup a second too late.
He clears his throat, still just a touch too much amusement in his expression when he joins them on Plan B. )
Yeah, I think maybe going through an organization for an official means of travel is probably our best bet. But, I'm--
( Framing, Fowler. Find a nice way to put it — nope, filter's a little too slow. )
They fucking hate you guys, though. I mean, sorry- maybe not you, for some reason your face is like an anti-hate forcefield—
( A kindly gesture at Nate with his cup. )
But they definitely hate you.
( Sorry, Lance. )
So I'd really like to be there to see the expression on her face when you guys ask her for a moon ticket.
no subject
Admittedly, his first run-in with actual representatives of Morningstar was not good. It served as a pretty shitty impression if he's being honest, but he reached out to Gaby. Talked it out. ]
Won't know until I try.
[ Nate shrugs, because it's not like there's anything to lose in doing so. ]
Worse case scenario, they've got me on the hook for a future favor.
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He concentrates on pouring himself another drink--less tequila this time--and then settles back into his chair again.]
Don't owe them too much of a favor.
[Not that 'favors' are exactly binding contracts, but still.]
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