redshiftlogs | persona non grata. [OPEN]

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persona non grata. [OPEN]

WHO: Rey and you!
WHAT: After keeping her distance for a while, Rey runs into the inevitable -- other people. And also an obsessive mutant cat that seems to follow her wherever she goes.
WHERE: All over Anchor.
WHEN: Month of October.

NOTES: I have a strong preference towards prose but I can handle brackets as well!

i. Bar;

There were periods in which Rey would spend days without seeing or communicating with another person. An unhealthy habit for sure, but it was something she had become used to during her period in the sky prison, carefully evading the synthetic wards among the labyrinthine corridors and inner tunnels and pipes. For someone as heavy and lumbering as Rey, she was surprisingly agile and stealthy. It also helped that she had plenty of experience in knowing where to go and how to avoid being seen.

Right now she's not spending much effort in doing so. After all, she's found that this isn't in fact the sky prison. There's no IV or synthetic sentry in sight, as far as she can tell. If there were... Well, she would just have to deal with them as they came.

Today, she just wants a drink or twenty. Except every time she orders, the fucking robot bartender gets her order wrong. And it couldn't have possibly gotten her order more wrong if it threw its memory core through a trash compactor where it belonged.

"Useless heap of fuck-metal shit," Rey seethes as she tosses the tequila sunrise aside. "Don't you know how to-- AUGH."

Luckily, she's not too drunk to avoid ducking in time as another tequila sunrise goes sailing over her head, intended for her face. The glass shatters against the wall, spilling liquor across the floor and then some.

Hissing between her teeth, Rey straightens herself immediately, fingers balled into fists as her eyes widen at the robot. "You motherfucker, you planned that, didn't you!"

Honestly, you just can't trust robots. None of them.

ii. Mess Hall;

Much like her social habits, eating is something Rey has been putting off for a while. There's plenty of water and booze at the bar, but you can only go on for so long on a liquid diet before the body starts to crave for something more.

Rey, on the other hand, could stave off those urges for months if she had to. If she had to being the key phrase here. Once it became glaringly obvious that she doesn't have to starve herself in order to evade whatever authority or presence here, or if it even matters to do so at all, she finally takes the risk to venture deeper into the depths of the city for something more than just scouting the vicinity. She could survive without food and water longer than a human, but that doesn't mean the urge doesn't creep up on her after a few weeks. Then, once again, it's about survival rather than obstinacy and pride.

Upon arriving there, however, she's not quite sure what to do with herself anymore. She's never cooked before, at least never any complicated meals that didn't come already prepped out of a can. She grimaces at the pre-made options, most which look to be well passed their expiration.

"Wehhhh," comes a whiny voice at her heel.

Rey looks down to see the same one-eyed tripedal feline bumping its head against her knee. It's been following her after she ran into some other weirdo at the bar, and she hasn't been able to shake the thing ever since. It doesn't take an animal person to assume what it probably wants, though. "Guess you must be hungry, huh?"

Naturally, the cat doesn't answer, though you never know. The last saptient being pretending to be just another animal turned out to be pretty wordy in the end.

No such luck this time. Just another flat "weehhh" as the feline sits on its hindquarters to paw at her with its one front paw. Chances are more likely that it's trying to urge her to care for herself first, but hell if Rey is going to take that hint.

iii. Bottom Levels;

Despite a perfectly functional barracks in the upper floors, Rey doesn't make herself known there. Being in places where people can expect to find her, where she can be easily tracked, is not something she is accustomed to. It's better to make herself scarce wherever possible. Don't get comfortable. Keep moving. No use in getting attached to whatever lifestyle they're expected to have here. And she refuses to become a complacent little hamster in a cage. No, that's not her. She won't let it happen; not if she has a say in the matter.

What few hours of sleep she allows herself ends up being in the most awkward places. Sometimes she can be found at the plaza or park, eyes mostly closed, only peering through slits as she stands in the middle of a walkway or shoulder leaning against a wall -- quietly snoring and drooling a little out the corner of her mouth until she's nudged awake by a concerned or amused passersby.

Other times she is pouring over what remains of the library, though barely able to keep herself cognizant of the words in front of her before nodding off at a desk. From time to time she'll jolt herself awake, slamming her forehead against the tabletop.

That damned cat might be accompanying her again, pawing and nudging at her as if trying to communicate some message that she refuses to diciper. Honestly, she figured that it would have moved on by now once it realized she had nothing special to offer it, but no matter what she does the animal always seems to find its way back to her. It would be annoying if it didn't also didn't help keep her awake at the same time. Small miracles, indeed.

iv; Wildcard

[ooc: Have something else in mind you'd like to do with Rey, or none of the above suit your fancy? Make your own or hit me up! Also feel free to check out my CR meme comment for info/ideas.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

With the promise of potential upkeep and maybe reprogramming, the stupid bar bot lives to see another day. Probably.

"No worries, wasn't particularly worried about that. Am not in much a rush here."

Getting back to impalement isn't high on her priorities at the moment.

"Oh yeah? I mean, nothing wrong with that, it's just usually that's the first thing people ask me when I tell them I work on the machines. The second thing is usually 'hey have you fixed the robot in the bar yet', which I haven't because it annoys this dude Kabal."

Just. Fuck Kabal sometimes okay, he's basically the worst.

That would sound petty to most people, but Rey's known quite a few people who harbor that level of pettiness that it's almost comical now. She just snorts, jumping over the counter in one fluid motion so she can just make her own damn drink on the other side, like she has been for some time.

"Well, in that case, can't really blame you. It's a luxury feature at best, anyway," she says as she pours herself a glass of bourbon. Liquor, it's what's for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner.

Peter tries not to be petty but sometimes Kabal, okay. Just Kabal.

"Personally, I kind of like him this way. I just think it's funny when he starts whippin' cherries at people." There's not a ton of good entertainment here, okay. He'll take whatever he can get at this point. "Hey, while you're back there, would you mind scooting me a carton of juice?"

"Guess it doesn't take a mixologist to pour a drink."

Let alone a robot, and Rey sure as hell doesn't need one to make her a drink. Not that she would trust the results if she did...

She bites her tongue before making a sharp quip at Peter's request, and instead aquiests; retrieving something that looks juice-like from the bar's refrigeration unit. She makes a face at the label. "Looks... safe enough. Hope you don't mind synthesized apple-esque things."

Just going to slide it over the bartop so the kid can figure it out himself.

"Thanks," Peter doesn't even hesitate to pop that probably-juice open and take a drink. He's done this so many times, man. If whatever this was was gonna kill him, it would have like a hundred times by now.

"Ah- yep, that's fake. Half the time we get actual juice from the fruits growing in agriculture."

Now that her 'good deed' has been done (because handing a kid some fake-apple juice totally counts as philanthropy, shut it), Rey starts taking swallows of her own drink. Definitely synthesized bourbon, but she's had worse things.

"Really? Juice you make yourselves?" Rey arches a brow, looking at Peter from over the brim of her glass.

Booze is booze, right? It's not there's any good imported wine out in space.

He takes another drink and gives her an enthusiastic nod.

"I'm more of a tech guy, myself, so I couldn't really tell you how it all works, but yeah. We've got people who know how to do that kinda stuff. This station was designed to be entirely self sustainable, we're just trying to get it back to that point."

None of Rey's past selves were botanists either, so she was never much of one with a green thumb. She might've tried to keep a plant alive at the Chicago townhouse once, but it didn't take. Neither was it fire-resistant.

"Mixed blessing, then -- our numbers. Fewer people means less to care for; also means working with a skeleton crew... and glitchy robots." She's just going to help herself to those cherries said glitchy robot keeps throwing.

"We have a lot to do, yeah. We do have a lot of robots that aren't glitching out, though. They do a lot behind the scenes, like, without them this place would fall apart."

The only reason he knows that is probably because he's spent so much time repairing them and taking care of their maintenance. Aside from the bar bot, anyway.

That's not too surprising, even for Rey. She's seen facilities and whole towns maintained by automatons. Glorified toasters rather than anything with a thought to care, really, unlike the synthetics. She might not like them, but automatons have their uses.

"Guess their function extends only so far, though." She casts a sidelong glance to the bar-bot. "Think you could train them into your personal robot army, if necessary?"

Because she's already met one person who seems capable of doing that.

Peter shrugs, glancing over at the bar bot and making a thoughtful little noise.

"Programming isn't something that I have a ton of experience with, I'm way better at the physical repairs. I think I could pick it up pretty easily if I had to reprogram any of these guys. I mean, not that I want a personal robot army or anything, but if we needed like, more security bots and less spa bots or something, I could probably make that happen."

Rey hums, sipping her drink.

"Have about the same experience. More hardware stuff than software, but enough to get by." She's considered taking apart these robots on a number of occasions for study. See what makes them tick. That'll be on the menu after she's done scouring the whole place until she's satisfied with the end result. Right now, it still feels like there are some stones unturned.

Well now Peter looks very interested.

"Oh yeah? Like, I'm sorry that you're stuck here, but we could really use more tech people around here."

Rey shrugs, waving her free hand dismissively. If previous comments are any indication, she's not too broken up about being stranded.

"Am handy enough to get by, anyway. Have taken apart synth-- machines to figure out how they tick." She watches the barbot, as if expecting it to react to her statement. While she could have easily run her own diagnositics if she had the right equipment, if it were up to her, she'd rather the robots not be here at all. Makes them easily hackable variables.

"That's more experience than most people have right now. Honestly, having someone who can help with robot maintenance around would be really huge, there are tons of these guys hanging around."

Peter cocks his head toward our good buddy barbot, then glances over at it, "I promise they're not all as bad as this one."

Rey eyes the bar bot suspiciously.

"Wouldn't be so sure about that. They all have the capacity to be reprogrammed and altered by the right person who just happens to have the wrong intentions."

Said like a true person who's seen and experienced those things firsthand.

"I mean, you're not wrong, but so far I'm confident that we don't have anyone around here who would pull a stunt like that."

Not that the word of some kid really means a lot, but it's all he's got to offer right now.

Rey doesn't look convinced.

"Have met one person with the capacity for it, at least. That's more than enough." One of the first things she saw upon her arrival was Qubit reprogramming a robot for his own purposes, and Rey hasn't quite been able to gauge his intentions with that yet. As if she needed more reasons to be on edge and suspicious of everyone.

Unfortunately Peter trusts Qubit with his life at this point, which may or may not be a good thing. He doesn't know any better, leave him alone.

"I might know who you're talking about. Dude with ridiculous hair?"

"Ugh, yeah. That guy. Probably."

The description clicks immediately. Helps when there aren't that many people here to fit that bill to start with. Truth be told, he hasn't necessarily done anything to merit Rey's mistrust, but his interest in tinkering with robotics alone was enough for her to be suspicious.

Okay, Peter cant help but laugh at that reaction. Sorry, Qubit. But not really.

"I know he's a little eccentric, but he's really not that bad. If it wasn't for him, I would have probably had some kinda nervous breakdown by now trying to keep this place running."

The way Rey looks at Peter, she's still not entirely convinced. It's not like everyone does things with bad intentions. In her experience, it's oftentimes the most well-meaning types that are capable of the worst things. But maybe that might be getting a little on the overly dramatic side of things.

Instead she just gives him a skeptical glance.

"Can't be that hard. Not like there's a big head count to keep track of."

"Well, that's the problem. We don't have a big headcount, and this place is huge. I can count on one hand the amount of people who have the knowledge and skills necessary to maintain and repair the computer systems, or the life support, or the robots, or the shields. It's not like they're doing nothing, a lot of people have skills in other super important areas, but we're all stretched pretty thin here."

He shrugs, that's about all he's got. It's a big job and everybody's doing it, but damn it is a bigass job.

Oh. That makes sense.

"Well fuck," Rey bluntly says as she finishes off her drink. She's starting to feel like she's going to be needing a lot more of these to get through the day. "Is there any way to get your ducks in a row, see what shit needs to be delegated to where?"

While many memories might not be her own, Rey has plenty of the military life to know how to abide by a strict schedule when necessary. Maybe some direction is needed here, both for herself and for everyone else.

persona non grata. [OPEN]

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