Entry 6: Video / Spam

[scentbombed]

[Backdated to before Pandora -- Warden filter]

Does anyone have a list of available jobs on board? I'd like to get my inmate something to do. Preferably something that can put his particular talents to use...

...[Sigh.] Which is to say, a great capacity for violence, cunning, and generalized nastiness. I don't suppose we have anything like that, do we?

[Also backdated -- Private to the infirmary]

Yes, er, hello. I'm looking for a medication for my inmate. He said the last person he spoke to didn't have it, but, well... wizards. [She says this like it's supposed to mean something -- which, to her, it does! Quite a lot, and most of it bad.]

Anyway, it's called... ben...zedrine. I think. Do you know anything about it? He said it's for headaches.

---

[And now, a spam for T'Pol!]

[It hasn't been hard to track T'Pol, once Angua worked out her cabin number and picked up the scent. One human, one... well, she doesn't quite know what a Vulcan is, but she can tell it's not human, that's for damn sure. And that scent being the only one like it on the ship, it's a pretty simple matter to follow it through all the overlapping trails, the nonstop criss-cross of people going back and forth in an enclosed-ish space, all the way to where the infected alien's gone off to.

She doesn't approach right away: she sticks near the wall, in the shadows, watching her quarry. Trying to decide, mostly, how much of A Problem this woman is going to be.]

Comments

[Spam!]

[with_discipline]

[She needed to get to Pandora. It was the single thought that propelled her through the halls, leaving Lucius and taking his wand with her. T'Pol turned it over in her hand as she walked, both pleased with herself for acquiring it, and wanting to break it at the same time. Magic. Disgusting.

Despite her own heightened senses, though, T'Pol's single-mindedness kept her from noticing anyone she passed, much less those lurking nearby. She needed to protect Pandora.]

[Spam!]

[scentbombed]

[Well, this is going to be simple enough, really. Angua knows that done properly, she should really change back about now and give T'Pol a chance to explain herself, or come quietly... But then she would be naked and vulnerable and, from what Buffy said, she doubts they have time for that. Her target is moving towards her target, and she needs to not be.

So Angua darts out from the shadows to get between T'Pol and the stairs, turns, and lets out a growl of warning.

There. There's her chance to come quietly.]

[Spam!]

[with_discipline]

[T'Pol halts when the wolf appears, even takes half a step back. What was a wolf doing here? She had seen another with one of the wardens, from time to time - but that one was white, and silent. Her hand tightened around the wand, and she found herself wishing she'd gone back to her cabin to retrieve her phase pistol.]

Move, [She said, logic slipping. Maybe it was just an animal. The Barge made her expect otherwise. T'Pol took a step forward and to the side, trying to walk around the canine. She had never cared for dogs.]

[Spam!]

[scentbombed]

[Well, she was right to think it wasn't just an animal... and wrong to think that Angua would let her get by that easily. She stepped right back into T'Pol's path, growl intensifying. Last chance, Pandora.]

[Spam!]

[with_discipline]

[She had to resist the urge to snarl herself, but that was base and illogical and not something she would allow herself to indulge in.

Still. T'Pol glowered at the wolf and took a step forward, trying to appear as threatening as possible.] Get out of my way.

[Spam!]

[scentbombed]

[Sorry, T'Pol. Angua was all too aware that there were a myriad number of tricks people put up their sleeves, but without, say, silver arrows or a disgusting anise bomb lying around, Angua was pretty sure that wolf-shaped-thing was going to beat person-shaped-thing most times. She stayed where she was, starting to bristle, baring her teeth.]

[Spam!]

[with_discipline]

[The trouble was that Angua's logic was sound. T'Pol was fairly confident that she could either psychically stop the beast or break its neck, but she knew she wouldn't come out unscathed. And Pandora needed her. So she turned, lengthening her stride, almost breaking into a run as she headed for the other stairway.]http://s.dreamwidth.org/img/imgscale.png

[Infirmary Filter]

[imaythrowuponyou]

Benzedrine's an inhaler. It was an over the counter drug until the late Fifties, early Sixties because people started using it recreationally.

If he wants something for headaches, I'd prescribe him something else.

[Infirmary Filter]

[scentbombed]

[She has next to no idea what he just said, but it's just enough in the big picture that she thinks she has an inkling. Still, best be sure -- her only experience with drugs is the stuff trolls take to melt their brains, and she's certainly hoping this isn't the same.]

By 'recreationally' you mean...

[Infirmary Filter]

[imaythrowuponyou]

[It's a little the same. :c]

They were using it because if taken incorrectly, it can produce a euphoric stimulant effect. [And he doesn't want to imply that that's what Carter was doing necessarily buttttt that kind of looks like what he was doing. :U]

[Infirmary Filter]

[scentbombed]

[...a little bit, yeah. :/ She sighs, disappointed.]

I see, I think.

[Really, she's almost as disappointed that he thought this would actually work as anything else.]

Well, what else would you recommend, I suppose?

[Infirmary Filter]

[imaythrowuponyou]

Did he say how bad the headaches are?

[Infirmary Filter]

[scentbombed]

I doubt they actually exist, but no.

[19centconstable]

Violence, cunning and nastiness...well he'd likely go far in the army, but we haven't got one here.

[scentbombed]

He'd likely go far in the Watch, frankly, but we've not got one of those, either. Any other thoughts?

[19centconstable]

Politics?

[scentbombed]

...On the Barge, George.

[19centconstable]

I'm afraid not, then.

Perhaps something at the gymnasium?

[scentbombed]

It's not ideal... but it might do in a pinch.

[strangehistorian]

Who is your inmate?

[scentbombed]

Carter. Jack Carter. Do you know him?

[strangehistorian]

Yes, I've talked to him a few times. He seems... well, a little misguided, but essentially sane, which is good. Have you asked him what job he'd prefer?

[scentbombed]

No. [And she has no intention of doing so.] But I think he'd find it acceptable to do something... well, physical. Personally, I'd like to see him put all that to good use.

[strangehistorian]

He could work in the gym...

[scentbombed]

Well, that would certainly be physical, all right.