Charlie Cutter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alittlesweptup) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2013-11-07 05:04 pm
alittlesweptup) wrote in exsiliumlogs2013-11-07 05:04 pm
[OPEN] we expected something
Date: various; post-zombie attack
Location: Various
Characters: Charlie Cutter and YOU
Summary:Skullduggery Charlie does his homework.
Warnings: None (as of yet, will edit if applicable)
Notes: Get yer pre-mutiny CR building opportunities here!
[CAFETERIA]
[Gathering supplies - food, medical kit - is all vital, but being well fortified isn't what's going to win them anything in the end. So more and more, Charlie can be found with his nose in his tablet reading and making notes, brow furrowed and mouth pinched into a thin line.
Reading, research, quoting lines back - all that he can do. But figuring out how to order his own words properly, anything to do with writing something respectable of his own? Less his forte. Oh, he's a good liar when he needs to be, but he's not stupid enough to think they'll slide through this with a little fast talk.
So he's hunched over a meager lunch from what's left of the cafeteria's stores in the wake of the zombie invasion, carefully making notations in hard copies of old speeches that he's found in the AI's database.
Christ, it's the sort of thing designed to produce a headache.]
[VR ROOMS]
[Charlie hasn't actually spent much time in the VR rooms, but they've got their advantages. Though he doesn't go so far as to bother with constructing anything complete, but rather spends some time tinkering up partial floor plans. It's something he'd usually prefer to have on paper, but resources are scarce and - if he'd being exceedingly honest - he's never been much of an artist.
He runs the builds late in the evening when someone's more likely to go off to one of the other compartments rather than take too close a look at what he's doing, but that doesn't necessarily mean his work always goes uninterrupted.]
(ooc: any format is a-okay and if neither option appeals to you, feel free to throw up something random and I can just tag in as is appropriate.)
Location: Various
Characters: Charlie Cutter and YOU
Summary:
Warnings: None (as of yet, will edit if applicable)
Notes: Get yer pre-mutiny CR building opportunities here!
[CAFETERIA]
[Gathering supplies - food, medical kit - is all vital, but being well fortified isn't what's going to win them anything in the end. So more and more, Charlie can be found with his nose in his tablet reading and making notes, brow furrowed and mouth pinched into a thin line.
Reading, research, quoting lines back - all that he can do. But figuring out how to order his own words properly, anything to do with writing something respectable of his own? Less his forte. Oh, he's a good liar when he needs to be, but he's not stupid enough to think they'll slide through this with a little fast talk.
So he's hunched over a meager lunch from what's left of the cafeteria's stores in the wake of the zombie invasion, carefully making notations in hard copies of old speeches that he's found in the AI's database.
Christ, it's the sort of thing designed to produce a headache.]
[VR ROOMS]
[Charlie hasn't actually spent much time in the VR rooms, but they've got their advantages. Though he doesn't go so far as to bother with constructing anything complete, but rather spends some time tinkering up partial floor plans. It's something he'd usually prefer to have on paper, but resources are scarce and - if he'd being exceedingly honest - he's never been much of an artist.
He runs the builds late in the evening when someone's more likely to go off to one of the other compartments rather than take too close a look at what he's doing, but that doesn't necessarily mean his work always goes uninterrupted.]
(ooc: any format is a-okay and if neither option appeals to you, feel free to throw up something random and I can just tag in as is appropriate.)
no subject
He has to follow Charlie's gaze down to the tablet to figure out what that outstretched hand is for, but he promptly gives the retrieved machine back then.]
I ruined your meal, as well.
[He gestures at the splattered remains of what must have been food.]
no subject
[Dropping his attention to the state of his clothes, Charlie makes a low irritable noise. Christ, he lent out his spare shirt to that bastard Sullivan too. He unceremoniously chucks the tablet back onto the table with a heavy 'thud!' and snatches at the napkin, scrubbing as much of his lunch off his shirt as he can.] I hope whatever it was that had you running about like a madman was damned important.
no subject
Ducking his head, Connor walks around the table, keeping an eye on Charlie all the while.]
I mean to go out on a mission to gather supplies soon. If you like, I can bring you back something as recompense?
[His curiosity gets the better of him once he stands opposite to the other man. He leans over the table, trying to get a look at whatever is on the tablet screen - something he wishes he'd thought to do before he relinquished the machine.]
What have you found to keep busy with here?
no subject
Oi, oi! That's none of your business! [He tosses the napkin aside, reaching instead for the tablet though likely not before Connor can get some glimpse of the files; none of them are terribly provocative - old transcripts, notable speeches. Charlie's got bits and pieces of them marked out on the tablet, but it's hardly a revolutionary's introductory manifesto.
Yet.]
no subject
Nothing on the screen really stood out to him, but Charlie's strong reaction gives him pause.
Is the stranger still taking offense over the accidental run-by flattening or did he did miss something more significant on the tablet?]
A personal project, I take it?
no subject
[--and then he thinks better of it and amends:] It's nonsense; just something to distract myself from this disaster zone with.
[Because being a bit of a prick about the moon base is Charlie's current favorite topic, thank you very much, and as good a distraction as any. Everyone seems to have an opinion on it.]
no subject
Disaster zone. [He smirks very slightly.] A fitting description.
[He considers taking a seat at the table, but that seems like it might be construed as rude right now. Not feeling much like standing still, either, he takes to pacing around his side of the table. He only pauses when he remembers the food he'd meant to leave with and then he steps away to retrieve the small bundle. He calls back over his shoulder, his voice louder as he taps into the deep, deep well of resentment he has for their captors.]
I fear we will be trapped in this disaster zone until the United Earth realizes we are here. Then I suppose we can expect to be moved elsewhere, perhaps further out into the sky. [He gestures upward and outward.] Or the Initiative may elect to save themselves and allow us to suffer the same death as their people.
[Deep, deep well.]