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Hey, this is a PSA for any and all aboard the good ship Stacy: today is your lucky day, because none other than West Rosen is gracing you all with his presence in the icky fleshy canteen. How about that: a great dinner and great company.

The dinner is goop on goop with a side of tray, and the company is picking at it with the expression on his face of someone being asked to eat live maggots.

Come distract him from the menu? Please?

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Tim made his way into the mess hall area, grabbed some food, and frowned deeply at it. This was... utterly unappetizing, and not just because he had memories of Alfred's cooking.

Oh--cool. New guy. Tim headed over and set his tray down on the table across from him. "Tasty, huh?" he said with a wry smile.

"Like it's been shipped straight from the school cafeteria," West replies, a painfully bland triangle of goop-covered tray in one hand.

He looks up at Robin, and makes the most deliberately insincere 'mmm, tasty' noise you can possibly imagine.

Tim scoffed slightly. "I don't know what kind of cafeteria you went to..." he said with a laugh. He pushed at the tray. "New here?"

Well, the narration admits that he was exaggerating a little for comic effect.

"Very," he admits. "I'm West."

Frowning down again at what for want of a better word will be referred to as the food: "We're not seriously expected to live off this?"

"I think we are," Tim said, laughing quietly. "Best not to think about it. I'm Tim, by the way. Robin when I'm working." He motioned to the mask he was wearing with a slightly self-conscious smile.

Um, goes West's expression.

Then: Riiiiight.

"...You do know dressing like a superhero doesn't actually turn you into one?"

~~West's superhero costume is a black balaclava~~

Gwen doesn't know about lucky, considering she's spent the day covered in goo, walking around naked, and hearing pretty horrible stories about giant bugs whilst wondering how she ended up inside of a living ship.

So after some aimless wandering a few directions from various human and non-human co-prisoners alike, Gwen found her way to the canteen. She eyed the food, and decided to instead that the other people populating the canteen were probably much more interesting.

Besides, she wasn't that hungry anyway.

She spotted a young man sitting in a corner, staring down at his plate. She wandered up to him, trying look non-nonchalant, and nodded at the food. "Kind of like an episode of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares, eh?"

"Hero, yes; super, no. I don't have metahuman powers," Tim said with a slight smile. "But I manage to keep up well enough anyway."

...

"Okay!"

Aliens and meatships and goop; West can't really be bothered to go on questioning the weirdness.

"Thank God there are some normal... ish people here. Never have I seen so many aliens packed under one roof."

He says this with the deadpan voice and slightly frozen expression of one who has until now not seen so much as one alien under one roof, let alone a crowd of them and superheroes and God knows what else.

Under normal circumstances, girl + skintight clothes would = oggling, but the tentacle-given plant-flesh suits would kill the libido of Casanova himself. West carefully avoids looking at it, instead glancing from her face to the delicacy in front of him and back again.

"I half-expect it to attack at any moment."

He's probably joking.

Tim grinned. "You call me normal, because you don't know me that well. Just wait--you'll be calling me freak boy before long."

"Hey, freak can be a compliment," he grins.

West would rather be a freak than one of those boring normal people! Or something. Really, it's like he tried to take after Claire's old not!boyfriend Zach without even realising it.

And Gwen is usually the type that's very at home with chatting up fit, young men, but becoming a prisoner on a ship is a far cry from the usual flirting environment of the local pub.

"From my understanding of what goes on around here, that's a possibility," Gwen replies, smiling. "I'm Gwen." She gestures towards the chair, hoping the young man might not mind some company. "I just got here, still tryin' to figure out what's going on."

"I chose to think of it as a term of endreament," Tim replied, laughing. "As it's usually my closest friends that call me that."

Alas that their circumstances are tearing them apart before their epic romance can even begin. Although West is still only seventeen and thus not yet legal in some states, despite his actor being 3973649723 years old or something equally silly that no-one believes until they read it for themselves on his Wikipedia page.

...Anyway.

"My name's West," he says brightly. "And if by 'got here' you mean 'got puked out into a leaf's gut and molested by tentacles and men from Mars', then me too!"

IF HE CAN JOKE ABOUT IT THEN IT DOESN'T FREAK HIM OUT, YOU SEE okay yes it still really really does.

"Good call." Okay, Tim is well on the way to earning the patented West Rosen Seal of Approval, despite the whole 'lol I'm Robin' thing.

"I'd be more worried if someone was accusing me of being boring, honestly."

"Perish the thought," Tim replied dryly. This West guy was... actually pretty funny. "So--where are you from...? And when, I guess. Itr's looking like the people here are from all kinds of different worlds and times."

Which is a utter shame, really, as he is totally legal in her home country, and besides a minor fixation with co-dependency, Gwen's halfway decent ~~in bed~~ as a girlfriend, as most of her co-workers can account to.

But that statement makes her laugh, which really gets points in the whole "this is really weird and awkward" situation, and she takes a seat a the table. "Well, it's nice to meet another slime-covered victim of the tentacles," she says. "I've seen some really, really weird things in my time. But this... well, this is the weirdest."

Don't think because she smiling, she's not freaked out. Because, tentacles. Really?

"...I'd worked out the worlds part," says West, in the spirit of sharing information. The clues were subtle, but they were there.

"Costa Verde. California." Though he was originally from St Louis, woo. "And... mid-March? Uh, 2007. Well, that's not something I ever thought I'd have to introduce myself with."

He raises an eyebrow at Tim, and gives him fair warning: "If you say you're from Gotham, I will laugh."

West is from a more family-friendly show*, so his prowess in the bedroom remains a mystery for the fanficcers to resolve. On the other hand, it can't be denied that he's an attentive and devoted boyfriend. If you like the kind who wakes you up with a text telling you your breakfast pancakes smell good. Apparently such people exist. Maybe Claire Bennet is a closet Twilight fan.

"Yeah, it's always nice to know you're not alone when you've been bad-touched by plant feelers. It encourages that sort of horrified cameraderie."

*by which the narration means it has blood and gore and death in particularly violent spades, but no tits.

"What if I say I'm from Bristol, which is actually one of the outer neighborhoods of Gotham? Does that help?" He gave West a slightly bemused smile. He wasn't really sure why his point of origin was so funny.

...

"Sure, why not."

West pulls a bit of a face at Tim; it's one that looks as though it should probably be accompanied by a waggling finger and 'cuckoo! cuckoo!' sound, but with marvellous restraint West does not add these things.

"...I think I've finally given up on the five-star meal," he adds, dropping the uneaten chunk of whatever back onto the tray. "Appetizing as it is."

Conversely, it is common knowledge that everyone in Gwen's show is great in bed, because they tend to spend 99.9% of the episodes in them. You know, because when it comes to alien threats, snogging is always the answer!

"Alone is the last thing we are, have you seen how many people are on this ship?" She tilted her head. "So... where are you from? I mean, planet-wise."

Because, you know, Gwen loves catching herself an alien.

Actually, disregard the previous notice, because this narration just remembered the Fascinating Adventures of Nikki the Stripper, who never quite achieved boobs but did have a lot to say on the subject of underwear and straddling. On the other hand, no-one on Heroes has yet been turned into an insatiable nymphomaniac by an alien something-or-other, so clearly they still have a lot of catching up to do.

"I did see a whole truckful of people out in the big hall with... space outside," says West, who trusts that this description will be sufficient because really it's hard to forget that kind of room.

Sorry to disappoint, Gwen, but: "I'm one of the few, the proud, the Earthlings. And you are...?"

There's a girl sitting nearby. She's not gorgeous - a little skinny, a bit knock-kneed, but she's got a sweet face, and the fact that she's found her overalls to wear instead of her plantsuit does a lot to cover up the knee issue.

She's soldiering her way through the mush, emphasis on "soldiering," and she takes a moment to smile shyly at West when she notices him.

"Pretty gross, isn't it?" she asks. It's a valiant attempt at socializing on her part.

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