trans_9 | Casing the Joint [Open!] [Warning for Foul Language in Tags]

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Casing the Joint [Open!] [Warning for Foul Language in Tags]

Riddick's the sort of man who likes to know everything he can about where he is, all f the time. Unfortunately, on Stacy, this is impossible. That doesn't mean he's not giving it the good old paranoid try, however.

He's found himself in the cafeteria, examining the nutrient mush. He's seen worse -- Hell, he's regularly eaten worse. The idea of edible trays ain't a bad one, either. It's really pretty practical.

He sits down at a table with a graceless sprawl and starts prodding at the mush with a utensil. He's a little entranced by its near-solid state, but it really doesn't smell too bad and he can't detect any hints of poison. It's not protein waffles, but hell, it ain't Necro cooking, either. He'd handle it just fine.

He even went so far as to take a bite, discovering that, well...It didn't really taste like anything. That was pretty reassuring, really.

"Not bad."

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"You're kidding..."

"I've had worse." The goggled, half-naked man looks at her, amused.

It's really not that terrible. Tasteless, filling, slightly weird texture, but he was getting over that pretty quickly.

New people.

It had been a while since Ronon went to the mess hall since he liked to spend most of his time in the City but he was just at his living quarters and needed a drink. As he was getting his water, he couldn't help but watch the small exchange between the two. They obviously didn't know about the Sensorium 'restaurant' or the fresh food that was sometimes available in the lounge or around the City. Did anyone even eat here anymore? He wondered.

"... You can get better food elsewhere." He decided to be helpful even though he probably wasn't looking too friendly.

Riddick looked up at the new arrival. Seeing as he was actually dressed and offering information, Riddick assumed he's one of the poor fucks who was already on the ship before he had arrived. He eyed him, smirking slightly.

"I'm just lookin' around." He gravitated to mess halls, anyway. They felt homey.

Ronon understood that. After all, it would be unwise not to know your surroundings. But he wasn't too sure of Riddick's smirk and locked eyes with him.

"Stacy's big. You have a lot to see." He didn't know what to make of Riddick's eyes but with studying the man, he knew Riddick could more than take care of himself. Actually, that much he could tell from first sight. He figured the man could put up a good fight.

Locking eyes with Riddick can be difficult at the best of times, with the thick, round goggles blocking them largely from sight. It gives him an oddly blank sort of stare, no matter the actual expression on his face. Despite his real and factual need for the goggles, he couldn't pretend he didn't love the intimidation factor that came from obscuring his (sometimes equally intimidating) eyes.

"Figure I got time." Riddick had a way of settling his weight on his elbows, which were propped on the table, with a sort of easy grace. He was reminiscent of a large wild animal who hadn't quite decided if it wanted to eat the person in front of it, or play with it first.

"Think I was talkin' to the lady, though."

Ronon read Riddick's body language quite well and responded by taking a step towards Riddick and giving him a challenging glare.

"Don't let me stop you, then." Came the 'civil' response. Only it would have been civil without all the hostile glaring.

He stared at Riddick for another moment before walking away from the two to leave the Mess Hall.

Edited 2010-08-04 08:26 (UTC)

Riddick snorted and shook his head, grinning after the man. Well, it looked like this place wouldn't be too damn boring, after all. At the very least, some of these people had a little bite to them. Riddick preferred places with a little bite.

He rolled his neck and prodded the food again. Squish, went the mush.

"Think I like it here."

Stacy-mush isn't the most appetising thing in the worlds to him. It is however, quite nutritious and it's for that reason alone Renne, the unusual anomaly, comes anywhere near the Mess Hall.

But again, he's got to remind himself to stand up and walk.

He'd crawled all the way here, so in standing, his ears give a flick-twitch to re-orient what he can tell by sound alone. With one webbed paw on the wall at about waist-level, Renne walks with his slowly-improving, strangely swaying gait in a quest to obtain some Stacy-sludge.
Trailing, he's good at.

Cooking, he's excellent at.

Squaring off away from the wall without cane-training? That's not something he's good at quite yet and now, having obtained a bowl of sludge, he's only got one paw to help avoid potential embarrassment.

Riddick doesn't spare the strange blue thing more than a cursory glance. He's not sure if it's a thing, or a person, but unless it starts getting closer, he's not too worried about it. He's seen stranger, and he's already on edge in general.

He keeps eating, not one to waste food.

One thing Renne does notice here is a new scent. Something that isn't Stacy-oriented. Either it's another crewman or...Or what?

Shaking his head at his own thought, the life-form's ears prick forward and his nose twitches, sniffing the air around him. Well. That is something new. Might as well investigate.

"Hell-loww?"

Riddick was definitely looking at the freaky blue thing now. Obviously the verdict was that it was a person. That didn't really up Riddick's enthusiasm for it by any stretch of the imagination. It even apparently wanted to talk, and oh wasn't Riddick excited about that.

Rather than actually say hi, Riddick grunted. Apparently he didn't feel very talkative. He was, however, keeping a very close, wary eye on the strange thing, in case it decided it wanted to see if Riddick tasted good. It was a bad habit some creatures seemed to have.

"Hell-loww?"

Unfortunately, Renne's not anywhere fluent in Caveman. Thus, he tries again and walks as carefully as he can toward the direction of the sound. His demeanour is curious, a little quiet and intent on navigating without -- thump -- running into too many obstacles. Well, that's one thing he's run into.

Cue the faint beginnings of a blush.

...Great. It's blue, it's curious, and it's running into things. And it wants to say hi. Riddick did not sign up for this shit -- But then, he hadn't signed up for the living space ship luxury cruise, either. He might as well cut the blue rat a break. He shook his head and spoke up.

"Hi." It sounds awkward, coming out of Riddick's throat -- Or at least, it sure as hell feels awkward to him. He grimaces slightly. Actual conversation is something he doesn't do.

"Eee. Is Rrr-enne. Wha-t yeu is?"

Thump. Damn. The blush gets a half-shade brighter, going a little toward 'cobalt' blue now. Still, he keeps on going until he finds his way closer toward the voice.

Just....don't hope for eye contact.

Riddick's starting to feel decidedly awkward. He looks around, wondering if the little thing is with anyone. Or if anyone will come and take it away. He's not sure what to actually say to it, considering introductions aren't his thing, and neither is polite conversation. Hell, he hates people, most of the time, and he sure as hell hates 'making conversation'. He's trying not to even think about the 'making conversation with a blue rat' thing.

"Riddick."

He's not really trying for eyecontact, or a polite tone of voice. Hell, he doesn't have a polite tone of voice.

"Rrri-dick-dick? Wha-t tha-t be? Is name?"

He actually takes the reply in itself, not to mention the fact he's not been swung at yet as both very good signs.

"Yeah, it's a fuckin' name."

Riddick takes another bite of the mush, chewing loudly.

"Fuh...Ooooh. Yeu is...New on Big Ship?"

Why, yes, he does stop before saying that word. He was taught some time ago to never say it -- you know, those lessons kids are taught about profanity.

"Yes."

Riddick shakes his head. Great. Blue, naive, friendly rat. Just what he wanted to talk to on his lunch break.

"Ooo. Hell-loww, th-en. Do Dick-Dick need hell-p? Do Dick-dick go-t Doo-tee?"

Oh dear. Riddick, sorry, but your name has been mutilated, Renneified and...he'll probably call you that forever.

"Had worse," Geoff agrees as he sits down across from the little hulkling of a man. As the first man to refuse the plant-suit, other blanket-wearers intrigue him.

Though, come to think of it, a lot of people seemed to be wandering around in real clothing these days. Perhaps he'd inquire about that later.

No matter. For the moment, at least, Chaucer was content with his kilt, as he was content with his slop.

"Not many here seem to share that opinion, however."

Riddick glanced over at the skinny blonde guy who decided to sit across from him. He did a slight double take, and studied him more closely. High cheekbones, skinny, blonde, odd speaking pattern, strangely pompous attitude without even emphasizing it...

Yeah, Riddick was thinking he might like this guy.

"No accounting for taste."

Riddick's goggles tried to stir up Geoff's curiosity, but he let it idle away in the background for now. Strange features were something he'd gotten accustomed to in the ship, and strange accoutrements were far less noteworthy around here. It was worth noting that it made him curious, though.

Tilting his head idly, he studied the stronger man as he scooped up some slop of his own. Working man, didn't sound like a knight, liked the food... Common. Probably spoke his mind. Geoff liked him.

"They seem to all come from advanced places with marvelous things, here. They refuse to admit to rank, many of them, of course. So in their lands, even the poor must feast daily, and soldiers dine like kings. Or they're lying."

"Not big on rank." Says the Lord Marshall, but he's just going to ignore that little fact for now.

Riddick finished eating (Both the mush and the tray, because well, why not?) and leaned casually on the table. He studied his new lunch buddy intently, noting his clothing (or lack thereof) and his comfortable body language. Not that high and mighty, clearly, which was another point in his favor. Most of this just added up to Riddick not really feeling like killing him at the moment, especially if he doesn't have to, but hell. It was a start.

"Got fuck all to do with food in mine. Never met a man who believed in rank I didn't wanna ghost." At least, at some point or another. Vaako was lower on his needs-to-die list, now. And hell, it wasn't like he objected to ranks in the slam -- But that was a different kind of rank, better thought of as pack than as society. Riddick preferred to be a loner, anyway. He didn't have much use for societies.

Geoff chewed, considering. An interesting man, this, not afraid of shouts of treason. "Now, they do have their uses, the nobles; do not mistake me there. I do agree that there are few who deserve their rank," though the Black Prince and Will both sprang to mind, "but we need them. Who else would there be to shout out orders and dictate our lives as one would one's chickens?"

"Not my thing."

Riddick's actually enjoying the break from ordering around the Necros. He's never understood the compulsive need for orders, not even from what's now his horde. He'd rather they had a little goddamn self-preservation -- But that usually seemed to lead to them being dead, because they weren't smart enough to not attack Riddick.

"Then you are rare. And to be commended. Or condemned, some might say. They recently instituted a government here, ignoring the obvious one." He felt that this fellow ought to be warned. It wasn't something that should be sprung on him, perhaps.

Riddick tilted his head slightly. Not that a government was his problem -- Hell, none of this shit ought to be his problem. But it was a good thing to know -- There'd be people expecting him to answer to them at some point, and he sure as hell wasn't good at that shit. Looks like the skinny blondes were at least consistently useful-- one reason to not ghost 'em. Yet.

"Good to know."

"Democracy is strange."

And conversing with Riddick was difficult, even for Geoffrey Chaucer, the great writer.

"People are too stupid to pick for themselves. 'Course, the other shit is stupid, too."

Ridick's crafted ending converstions into an art, most of the time. But if someone wants to keep talking to him, well, how can he stop 'em?

"Perhaps there is no good answer," Geoff said diplomatically, working to finish off his meal. It might not have been bad, but that didn't mean he thought it was worth savoring.

"Never figured there was." Riddick watched Chaucer eat for a moment, assessing his movement.

"I'm better alone."

Geoff ate like many people he knew, especially soldiers; quickly, not wasting a morsel but not overly interested in paying attention to his food. With him, it was also something of an afterthought, however. Occasionally his brain would get caught up in something, and he'd stop eating.

"Alone is appealing, but problematic in its own ways. There are thoughts to consider."

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Casing the Joint [Open!] [Warning for Foul Language in Tags]

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ah i fail at reading, sorry >_<;;;

<3 <3 No prob!

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