Leo Walker is Mister President. (shuttlediplomat) wrote in neopolis_logs, @ 2010-01-06 23:43:00 |
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The chambers within The Ecstasy had been simultaneously excruciatingly loud and painfully silent on and off for the past few days. Among the other faces of today’s gross robbery of persons: one Marcus Sexsmith, the likes of which gave Leo Walker the need to casually suggest to Hanselle that maybe, just maybe, it might be a decent idea to let Ludwig pilot a few hours. The nature of the navigator’s pit in this model meant that he wasn’t quite sure that Hanselle had taken his advice; nevertheless, he heard enough bangs and clatters from a bulkhead down the hall to infer that one, if not two individuals were taking their anger out on the ship. The thing about The Ecstasy was that nobody really talked about this stuff. Mostly, the black ate their grief like it ate everything else. On his part, Leo wasn’t quite sure how he felt or what to say – to anyone. Lord knew that Veep was busy talking to Marcus anyway; same, he figured, with West and Martin. Given his rocky relationship (if one could call it that) with Sexsmith, he wasn’t even sure how to properly comfort Alter’s pure and unadulterated fury – aside from the promise for vengeance, of course, but Walker had been nurturing that little modus operandi ever since he’d become acquainted with either Caesar or The Dick Invader on his holoscreens. For the first time in his life, the young Aquilla – a man who prided himself on the talents oratorical – wasn’t sure what to say to anyone. And when that shit happened, he frequently felt that he needed to talk to someone who didn’t expect him to… well, know what to do, say, feel, or anything else. He’d been searching for this individual on his phone list for a while when, suddenly, the perfect person became highlighted on the menu by chance. He pressed the green button and watched a call for VAN HELSING, KATE to ring through. The pop of someone picking up sounded off (how telecommunications worked through this bullshit, he’d never know), and he leaned back in his chair casually while fiddling with a control or three: “Holla, Venkman. Tell me to fuck off if this is a bad time, got it?” |