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trans_92009-07-14 06:32 pm
sgmitchell.livejournal.com) wrote in trans_92009-07-14 06:32 pm
Entry tags:
Of food and plantsuits (Open to all)
It was fully two weeks since his unpleasant awakening on this ship, and...it hadn't gone away. Yeah, he figured it wouldn't do that about the third day in, but...it probably would have been handy if it had. All the same he thought he was adjusting pretty well. This weird went far beyond SG-1's level of 'weird', but his experience with SG-1's weird was...probably helping anyway. And boy, what levels of weird there were around here. He preferred not to count them--that tended to work contrary to his desires of dealing with said weirdness in stride.
He had a feeling there was more weirdness in store for him. No, not a feeling...from what he heard, there was a whole lot of weirdness in store for him yet. Really, though, if he was going to have to deal with more weirdness, the least compensation he could get was some decent meals. Honestly. Stacy needed to make a choice between creepy plant suit things and bland food before her crew (or...himself, at least) went crazy or staged revolt.
He'd yet to decide which he'd rather trade (keep the suit for the food, probably) or whether being unusable as a soldier or dethroning the tyrant chef was a more viable option. For now, he chose to sit in one of the spongy Obs Deck chairs, and contemplate the question. He was fairly certain, really, despite his misgivings over whether the plantsuit would actually protect against anything (and its lack of pockets), that he'd settle on better food in the end. You just couldn't ignore the lack of good food.
He had a feeling there was more weirdness in store for him. No, not a feeling...from what he heard, there was a whole lot of weirdness in store for him yet. Really, though, if he was going to have to deal with more weirdness, the least compensation he could get was some decent meals. Honestly. Stacy needed to make a choice between creepy plant suit things and bland food before her crew (or...himself, at least) went crazy or staged revolt.
He'd yet to decide which he'd rather trade (keep the suit for the food, probably) or whether being unusable as a soldier or dethroning the tyrant chef was a more viable option. For now, he chose to sit in one of the spongy Obs Deck chairs, and contemplate the question. He was fairly certain, really, despite his misgivings over whether the plantsuit would actually protect against anything (and its lack of pockets), that he'd settle on better food in the end. You just couldn't ignore the lack of good food.