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[littletonoidea]

"This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel of the-- previously of the U.S.S Hephaestus, leave a message and I'll see if I can bear to drag myself away from whatever utterly engaging task I must be doing to not notice my comms--"

BZZZZZZZ

Action | Text | Voice | Video

Comments

[littletonoidea]

Well, you're short a few thousand microprocessors, right? It's gotta be a pretty wild adjustment.

[The smoke from his cigarette doesn't fill the air in the usual visible lines gravity enforces, but the smell lingers, adding an acrid, faintly stale tang to the air immediately around Eiffel.]

[junoit]

Yeah. I thought I would mind it more than I do. I mean, it’s strange, and the change in available sensory data is wild, but. I’m not aching all the time. That’s maybe the strangest thing.

[She reaches up to touch the ceiling, grins a little, then looks at her fingertips and raises her eyebrows.] When was the last time you dusted up here?

[littletonoidea]

[That - I'm not aching all the time - gets a pained look on Eiffel's face, sympathetic and hurt all at once.

Luckily it's gone again when she asks about dusting, and he scoffs.]

Dust goes down, Hera. It doesn't stick to the ceiling.

[junoit]

She gives him a look of amused and exaggerated patience. “Officer Eiffel, what is it that we are doing right now?”