♕ 003 spam/private

[broughtwhiskey]

spam.

[Philip comes out of his room only when strictly necessary. But lately, he's having to spend more time right outside his door when he does emerge. It seems like every time he opens his door again, there Christmas decorations on nearby doors and around the hallway have somehow managed to reproduce themselves and spill over onto his door. Each time, he takes the time to take it off. Everything finds its way to the floor, crumpled up and certainly worse for wear before he moves it aside with a foot. He'd like to think after the first time whoever is decorating his door would get the hint, but here he is once again having to take down decorations.]

[Once his door is clear again, Philip heads to the cafeteria to eat. He prefers sitting by himself. Anyone who sits at his table generally just gets a brief glance in their direction before he goes back to finishing his meal. Some of it leaves with him, particularly anything nonperishable. It saves him from having to be around people much, but it also let's him start a stockpile. Paranoia and old habits die incredibly hard.]

[Other times, Philip can be found in the library--usually there just long enough to pick something and then he's off--or in the hallways as he's making his way back to his cabin.]

private - admiral claus.

[Add yet another thing to the list of things he doesn't want to do and yet he finds himself doing anyway. He keeps it short and to the point.]

Clementine - Leatherman multi-tool.
Roderick - A copy of How to Win Friends & Influence People.
Arkin - Something to branch into a new hobby.
T'Pol - A sense of humor.

Comments

spam

[whatthewrackspurt]

[Guess who took down some of the mistletoe and made herself a pair of mistletoe earrings?

This witch.

She skips down the hall, pauses when she reaches the Governor, and gestures down to him to try and convince him to get down on her level]

Here, please.

[broughtwhiskey]

[He is not convinced (sorry, Luna) and mostly gives her a blank look.]

What do you want?

[whatthewrackspurt]

[She smiles back up at him, and shrugs]

To celebrate the Christmas spirit, I suppose. Could you kneel down, please?

[broughtwhiskey]

[No, Luna, no.]

I'm busy.

[Very busy. Doing not a whole lot. But he really doesn't have time to humor her.]

[whatthewrackspurt]

[She nods, the dim light of disappointment flickering once in her eyes before disappearing quickly]

Busy with what?

[broughtwhiskey]

[Although it was brief, he still sees that look of disappointment and does his absolute best to ignore it. He doesn't know her at all and it shouldn't matter to him at all. (Philip is certain that it really doesn't.) But he still doesn't like seeing it.]

I need to get back to my room.

[whatthewrackspurt]

[She takes a step back to let him pass, playing a bit with her hair]

Is there something more interesting in your room?

spam

[versusnurture]

[It always strikes Abigail as funny when people fight back against the more mundane aspects of the Barge. Things like the decorations, for example. She doesn't see the point in struggling against them anymore; there'll always be something else up in a minute.]

[She stops and cocks her head at Philip as he's destroying his decor again.]

Do you think it'll stick this time?

[broughtwhiskey]

[Philip pauses momentarily in his personal crusade and destruction of holiday cheer to look over at Abigail when she speaks.]

Doubt it, [he says, going right back to tearing the decorations down.]

[versusnurture]

[She snorts, tucking her hands behind her back.]

Then what's the point? Why are you doing it? You can't be that bored.

[broughtwhiskey]

Maybe I am.

[There's a bare hint of a wry smile. There really is not much point to it knowing that someone will just come by and replace the decorations. But he doesn't want anything like that on his door. He doesn't want to be reminded of the holidays more than he has to be with everything else on the Barge.]

[versusnurture]

[She considers this. Really, someone should let him into the Enclosure so he can run around and exhaust himself. She imagines him falling asleep in a heap like a dog after a run. It'd probably be good for him; she can see the pent-up energy in the way he holds his shoulders.]

[But he probably wouldn't appreciate hearing that. So she just comes over quietly and starts to help him pull down the decorations.]

[broughtwhiskey]

[It would most certainly be his preference that she keep any thoughts like that to herself although she's not entirely wrong about the pent up energy. Deep down, beneath most of his facade of complete and total apathy for his situation, he's still angry. Nearly beating and strangling Rick to death hadn't been enough to let go of all that anger and it's likely nothing will ever be. So, he ends up carrying it with him in the square middle of his chest.]

[Philip glances over at her as she walks over and starts to help. He doesn't know what to make of her. While she seems to be continuing the unspoken tradition of being helpful and friendly, there's something different about her, too. Something he can't quite place his finger on.]

[It's only when he realizes that he's starting to think on what it is that he suddenly reaches over and pulls something down she was about to reach for.]

I got it.

[That's how these things start and he won't let it happen again.]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia is certainly to blame for one of those times when his door got decorated. And although she doesn't have her sweater on right now, when she sees him removing the decorations, it does feel a little personal. So she approaches him with an arched eyebrow.]

Something wrong?

[broughtwhiskey]

[Philip spares her a glance when she approaches.]

No. Nothing's wrong.

[He just is nowhere near the mood for the holidays and it's not likely he will be before Christmas has come and gone. It seems like it was another lifetime when Christmas used to matter. The one prior to the outbreak had not been all that filled with cheer either although he was willing to fake it enough to make it special for Penny. It was just the two of them and he didn't want her spending the holiday just missing her mother.]

[There's no reason to pretend here.]

[lydiascreams]

Just not in a festive mood?

[Which, no, she can't really blame people for. Not everyone is like her, who clings to every ounce of normalcy they can get. Even in a space prison. But, well, people have been putting a lot of effort on decking the halls, okay?]

[broughtwhiskey]

No, can't say that I am.

[To put it very mildly.]

[lydiascreams]

[She eyes him for a second and then, the eye patch finally clicks.]

I think we met before. When we were little. You thought your older self might be a pirate.

I'm Lydia.

[broughtwhiskey]

[He looks at her a moment. That's right. The girl who wanted to be a mermaid.]

[He nods.]

I remember. [A beat as he finishes clearly off his door.] Philip.

Library Spam

[irishrotter]

[Simon is a fairly voracious reader, and not only of the Bible. Poetry, literature, mythology -- for someone so very obviously dead, he keeps an active mind. When he's not in the Barge's chapel or his own, and not drifting around after Kieren, it's pretty easy to find him picking through the stacks in the library.

Today, he's looking for something very specific: Azeroth. Any information he can get on the place, really. But that's not exactly something he knows how to look up in the card catalog, so he's wandering a bit instead, his eyes more on the books than on the fellow patrons. When he turns a corner and nearly bumps into Philip, he doesn't think much of it, save for the twinge of wary irritation he always feels casually encountering one of the living. His ghostly eyes flick him over once and seemingly dismiss him as he starts to move past.]

[broughtwhiskey]

[Instincts very nearly kick in the moment Philip gets a real good look at Simon. Another thing has been let on board. Sure it may be dressed and walk and talk, but it's just lipstick on a pig. A biter is a biter is a biter. He knows that sooner or later, this is going to become an issue. Someone is going to get hurt. But although tense and still very much at the ready to put Simon down, Philip doesn't act. He knows that he'll just come back even if he does destroy Simon's brain in the process. It's only that thought that's keeping him still.]

You ought to pay better attention where you're walking.

[irishrotter]

[Something in the tone of voice instantly sets Simon's hackles to rising. It's subtle on him -- he's not a very expressive man, not prone to outburst -- but his expression hardens as he turns back to look at him, his shoulders squaring in defensive pride. Though he's a tall man, he's a fair bit shorter than Philip, but the way he carries himself it's hard to see the difference.]

Just looking for a book.

[broughtwhiskey]

I wouldn't think it'd be that difficult to do both.

[Except he would, actually. Lose a couple brain cells along the way, Simon?]

[irishrotter]

[Oh, he so wants to make an eye joke right now, but it would really be beneath him. Instead, he offers a smile that's more like a razor.]

They do say never get between a man and his reading.

[broughtwhiskey]

[Philip doesn't return the smile. If Simon is getting the sensation that he's being looked at like dirt beneath Philip's shoe, he's not wrong.]

Do they? I'd think there'd still be a little room for basic courtesy.