notafuckingnut | [014] We'll be putting down our roots right in the center of the storm

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[014] We'll be putting down our roots right in the center of the storm

[Accidental Visual]

[Viewers can't see much; the communicator's on the floor after he abandoned it there earlier, meaning it's mostly ceiling and the side of the bed. There's an arm and a leg draped over the side towards the camera, fingers tapping against the fabric rhythmically as if to some song in his head while the leg just dangles. There's a frustrated groan and a comic book comes sliding over the edge to land somewhere out of sight, and the visible limbs shift around as he tries to find a more comfortable position.

He mutters under his breath.]

...I'd give my left nut for some decent porn.

[Bored Richie is inexplicably bored. Which he prefers over recent events, but still. Bored.]

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You're in bed in the afternoon.

I guess I wouldn't be able to talk to you anymore. [One-shouldered shrug as she smiles awkwardly.]

I'm...not a great talker but I don't usually get people on my television. Well. Not real people anyway. [She bites her lip and smiles.]

I spent over a week in a bed. Maybe I'm starting to grow roots.

Or maybe I'm sick of the rest of the ship.

Nobody gets real people on TV; it's TV. Nobody wants to watch real people, they're boring. [A smile for a smile, and it's mostly harmless but he's watching her too intently for that to be entirely the case.]

Oooo. That doesn't sound very good. You're on a ship? Where are you sailing to? I have never been on a ship before.

[Her fingers pluck nervously at the purple fabric on her lap, and she takes up her scissors again, cutting patches off its edge.]

Well, I don't think you're boring.

[A shrug; like he knows these things.]

Dunno, they didn't say. I didn't even ask to be here, I just am.

[...Huh. Well that's not what he was expecting. He flips around and leaves the bed to sit in front of the screen properly instead of being at a weird angle. He watches her for a few moments, gaze not always lingering on what she's doing but at least having the decency to pretend. Mostly.]

You don't know me. I could be. [More amused than anything else.]

Whatcha doing?

I don't think so. If you were one of the boring people I would have freaked you out by now.

I'm making a dress. I make all my own clothes. And dolls. It's what I do.

Freaked out how? [And now he's very much interested. You can tell by how he's actually looking instead of just staring.]

You look a little old for dolls.

I don't talk normal very well. [Another almost birdish shrug.] I'll be talking along fine and then people get this look on their faces and I know I'll have gone too far. Like when I talk about my job.

I make them, I don't play with them. You're silly. [Giggle giggle.]

Well that's just 'cause a lot of people are fucking assholes and don't get it. That happens to me sometimes too. What do you do?

...Well what else would you do with dolls? [So unamused.]

I'm a veterinary assistant, but the doctor also has me help with surgeries because I stitch a good hand and never flinch. I can stitch people too.

I display them, silly. [ She bends toward the camera and laboriously turns her television set so that he can see the shelf running around the room with a row of handmade dolls on it.]

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