Question? How is it you look so handsome AND adorable in these outfits but if I wore them I’d just look ridiculous?
I’m sorry, but adorable?
i may or may not be around for awhile. well, no, i’m around, but not in the best of spirits. my cat went to the vet and she has a tumor/infection and they told us it’d be best to put her down sooner rather than later. we haven’t yet but :( :( :( she is my baby ughhh bad times, sorry guys. :( if i can be around/write, i will. if not, i’ll give you my personal if you need to reach me/want to chat.
on mobile sorry this is rushed I’m at the er with my grandma she had another stroke. I dont know when I’ll be home I’m sorry
Oh sweetheart im so sorry :-( wishing you and your family the best, take all the time you need and don’t fret over us. I hope everythings okay soon!
It had come to Adair’s attention that there were both good and bad people on this ship, and a few in-between as well. It seemed to him there were already alliances forming between the survivors of the crash and people were less than trusting of each other. Adair had kept to himself and tries his best not to bring any unwanted attention to himself, having already gotten a bad reputation for running his mouth and regaling people with his theories of an imminent alien attack.
But no matter how much he tried to stay out of the spotlight and keep out of trouble, he found himself constantly running into one man, Thomas Milliagan. A man whom he was trying very hard to avoid. To say that he and Thomas didn’t get along was an understatement. The two men hated each other, however by some strange twist of fate, despite Adair’s attempts to stay clear of the man, he and the fugitive just kept crossing paths.
It was common knowledge on the ship that Michael was a bounty hunter back on earth. He’d chase down criminals who had skipped bail or just plain refused to turn up to court and bought said individuals to justice for a substances reward. Adair thought this to be an honourable profession, cleaning the streets of low life scum protecting civilians. He always felt akin with law enforces, being ex-military himself.
He know Thomas was a fugitive and from the gist of things Michael had been tracking him down, trying to catch him. Not that, that would do him any good here on Mitternacht. Thomas would soon run out of hiding places and Michael would have to way of detaining him should he catch him. It’s not like they were going to get rescued anyway so the whole idea seemed a little pointless to Adair but none the less he intended to find Michael and talk to him.
Adair was curious about Thomas’ past life and the crimes he had committed, he wanted to know how much of a danger this man was to himself and those around him. He wondered if he and Michael might share some common ground in their dislike for the convict.
After walking around the ship for a few hours Adair finally found the illusive Michael. This man was almost off the grid, this giving Adair even more confidence that this man was good, very good at his job. He wasn’t a man who wanted to be found. Adair watched him, following him for a few moments from a safe distance before approaching him. He reached out and placed a hand firmly on the younger males shoulder from behind.
“Michael?” he asked, eyebrow cocked, a stern expression on his face, wary of the other male for how he might act “I’m Adair Kossak, I don’t think we’ve met” he said extending his hand to Michael “I was wondering if I could discuss something with you, well more….some one than something?” he ended, his eyes searching the younger males for signs of apprehension.
He flinched.
Michael Dresden actually flinched. For a man who was said to be delicate, precise, and governed in every aspect of his life, being trapped in this hell of a situation was proving so differently that it started infecting his mind, forcing him into doubts over the personal truths he’d always clung to. Back when his father was alive (and consequently, back when Michael’s life wasn’t so thought out; back when he was actually living as opposed to breathing a routine), there had always been one repeated message. “Never let anything break you, kid. Trust me, there’s plenty out there capable, but never let anything break you, because once you’re broken, you ain’t getting fixed.” If he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sift through the garbled memories, he could almost vividly hear his old man’s urgent tone, see his aging, troubled face masked by his five o’clock shadow, but that was if he allowed it, which he never did so long as he could help it. However now, disconnected from everything he fought valiantly to keep him safe from himself, there was very little left to his defenses, and the heavy barricade he’d used to shield those plaguing reminders of loss were now a stupid shame. Now… now he was paranoid, over-thinking, nervous, scared, and too confused to know what the fuck to do about any of it.
Try as he might to cover it all up, to remain the calm and collected presence he’d been associated as for some odd ten years now, the mind was an incredibly power thing not to be trifled with. He quickly recovered from the initial hesitation that seized his limbs at the abrupt physical contact, turning on his heels to examine the source with a look that was hopefully pacified rather than edgy. Immediately Michael recognized the man as the ex-military loudmouth - around the rumor mill, not his personal reflection - aboard the ship, much credit due to his immaculate attention to detail. It was his job not to miss things, and up here he found it the smallest ounce of consolation, easing some of the unsettling alienation he felt. With a speculative sweep over the man’s physique and a raised eyebrow, Michael returned the gesture and nodded forcefully, withdrawing his hand before the shake became borderline awkward.
“I’d introduce myself, but you apparently already know who I am,” he answered with the un-profound twitch of his lips, the small pleasantry not unnoticed before he wiped his expressions clean, breathing a huff through his nose at the man’s next random inquiry. Why would he choose to come to Michael? Surely he could’ve told that he wasn’t exactly the most approachable of fellows, especially given his insistence to remain off the grid, unless…. Michael willed himself not to make a reaction, because his business was his business and, well, he didn’t owe Thomas much of anything, but his something in his subconscious tugged at him and told him that it was simply none of his concern. It looked like nonchalance and feigned ignorance was in his near future. With a lazy shrug and a flick of his gaze, chocolate eyes now peering innocently at Adair, he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels. “Okay, shoot.”
Don’t worry about a thing, oh no!
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.
Finally, someone who understands! This is exactly what I’ve been saying since day one, Michael. I couldn’t agree with you more.
We needto go out there…whoever is able, efficient, and consenting should go. I don’t suggest you go by yourself, that’s like a suicide mission…and what would we learn then?
I’m fairly certain one of those alien spawn have been killed aboard the ship, we should locate it, take it to the labs, figure it out, and go out searching.
We need to, yeah, but we can’t exactly go out there blind— wait, what? One of those things was killed? Where the fuck is it? That’s our in.
I agree. I don’t think it’s a good idea to lie in wait.
What do you propose?
The only thing there really is to do is acquire intel. We know next to nothing about these creatures, and so long as it stays that way, we’ll never have the upper hand. No offense to anyone, but I always like to have the advantage.
I say we do some tracking, but there are the possibilities it won’t be safe. Hell, nothing is really safe right now, but action is better than inaction.
I can do it. Other things are… slow, anyway.
