13: Spam: Man got to live what he know.

[omar]

[Open spam]

[Omar is a roamer. As long as he's not forced to stay in his cabin -- in his cell, comfortable as it may be -- he spends very little time there. He's just as likely to sleep in an empty cabin, or even once or twice in the Enclosure. He keeps bizarre hours, and he keeps them largely to himself.

None of this is new. This is how he's been since he got here the first time. Since his last death toll, though, he's become even more erratic in his efforts to stay unpredictable, and the recent spate of unwarranted brutality has him feeling especially restless. He can be chanced upon at all kinds of odd times and places: at the library early in the morning, in the showers and the laundry room around noon, eating in the dining hall in the late afternoon. In the evening, smoking up on the deck with so many of his fellow passengers, because it's not actually that he's antisocial -- just very, very careful.

Careful enough that he takes data, and so some of the newer passengers may or may not be surprised to glimpse him out of the corner of their eyes every now and again. Maybe even writing something down.]

[Spam for Cold and Dark]

[But there's a predictability even in unpredictability, and he does from time to time spend the night in his cabin, if only to keep up the illusion that he does so much more often. It might take a more careful observer a while to figure out when he's likely to return, but the time comes around eventually.

It's late in the evening, but he's been up for the last 36 hours, and he's tired -- and therefore both baffled and a little annoyed to hear a knock on the door right when he's about to lay his head down.]

Man, who is it?

[Edit: Voice to Ricki, post-Tiffany spam]

You know what? I remember a time this place didn't feel like a cross between a day care and a circus.

[Edit: Spam for Luna, post-pairings announcement]

[Omar's been playing the warden shuffle for a while now. At best, it's been ineffective -- the closest thing he's gotten to a decent temporary warden, in Horatio, got ripped away from him halfway through the month. At worst, it's been disastrous. So he's not inclined to pay much mind to the announcement, not anymore. He goes about his day. Let Luna Lovegood come to him, if she likes.]

Comments

[Spam]

[chillestrogue]

[around the corner, Cold had instructed Dark to wait until he lured Omar out of the room. He hadn't had a ton of interaction with the man, and while he spent most of his time observing what he could over the communicators, the man was still an enigma. So this first recon mission was a bit of a gamble on his part.]

Just someone looking for a match. Got a light?

[if only Mick were here]

[Spam]

[omar]

[Well, that sounds like someone looking to bust in his door, to him. Or at least bust in his face when he opens it. He doesn't recognize the voice offhand, though, and that bothers him. He gets up and moves warily towards the door, though he doesn't open it.]

This the time to name names, bro.

[In retrospect, he really wishes he hadn't let Jimmy get his good gun. He still has the antique in one of his caches, but... it's an antique, and it's in one of his caches.]

[Spam]

[chillestrogue]

The name's Cold.

[And Omar's not the only one wishing he still had his gun]

Do you have a light or not? You're the fifth door I've knocked on tonight, it's starting to get a little ironic around here.

[Spam]

[omar]

[Pause.]

Ironic how?

Re: [Spam]

[chillestrogue]

Ironic in the Alanis Morrisette sense that I've got a handful of cigarettes and can't do a thing with them except roll them around in my hand.

[spam]

[tucky]

[Tiffany - sitting on the deck floor - watches him for a minute or two before piping up.]

You got any more of those?

[spam]

[omar]

[He glances down at her for a second like he's weighing it, but then he holds out the pack to her.]

'ayo, Warden.

[spam]

[tucky]

Thanks.

[She slides one out and lights up.]

Oh yeah, and I'm Tiffany.

[She's assuming that he forgot her name.]

[spam]

[omar]

[He lets out a sound that's somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, leaning wearily against the railing.]

I know who you are.

[ Spam ]

[kissthatgoodbye]

[Alec is another passenger that can fall into the paranoid category; he's also one that has a lot of experience not showing said paranoia. His door is a dead giveaway for anyone that's paying any amount of attention, and there's nothing he can do about that, like he can't do anything about so much else. The first few nights he manages to keep himself inside it anyway despite that he doesn't sleep.

After that he slips back out and prowls the ship and sometimes he returns and sometimes he doesn't. He learns very quickly, though, that he's not alone in that either.

The first time he almost catches sight of Omar, that's one thing; the second time he is dead certain it is not a coincidence despite the fact a day has passed in between. He doesn't react either time, but he doesn't forget either.

The third time, seated comfortably in the laundry room, slumped down low enough in one of four pockets of machines that means he can't be seen before anyone else enters the room, a magazine propped up on his stomach and someone else's laundry cycling away beside him, he looks him right in the eye and smiles.]

[ Spam ]

[omar]

[Alec, of course, hit Omar's list the second he showed his face on the network -- first for his obvious resemblance to Ben, and then for the fact that Omar knows very well what Ben was capable of, as much as he'd dismissed it back in the day. If there's a connection there, he wants to know what it is.

Besides, between that first and second time, and a third that Alec apparently doesn't catch, Omar is starting to get the idea that he's unpredictable enough to be worth watching all on his own merit.

Not that he shows this off, of course. Alec catches him in the door of the laundry room and he offers a bland, neighborly smile and sails right on in with an armful of clothes.]

Afternoon.

[ Spam ]

[kissthatgoodbye]

Hey.

[This is another thing that Manticore taught him, with all its eyes and ears and cameras and every single hand and heart turned against him: the act is so seamless that it may as well be the truth. He always, always assumes someone is watching, and so while his behavior might begin to show itself as somewhat erratic, it is also without exception harmless. He's exploring, familiarizing himself with his surroundings, and he takes nothing, moves nothing, destroys nothing.

He turns a page of his magazine without looking at it, head tilted curiously to follow the path of the room's new occupant. The smile holds.]

You're in luck: you beat the rush.

[Yeah there is no one else in here.]

[ Spam ]

[omar]

Looks like.

[And for someone that is more or less functionally, willfully homeless, he actually has a fairly extensive wardrobe. He hadn't come here specifically to stalk Alec this time; he actually needs a machine. He heaves the clothes -- mostly blacks, with some bright splashes of color mixed in -- into the nearest one and does the necessary fiddling with it.]

You the new boy, right?

voice

[rickitikitarr]

Oh yeah?

[Ricki answers, considerably more subdued than the last time they spoke.

But he'd still like to hear.]

voice

[omar]

[Conversely, Omar had been comfortable, at ease the last time they spoke; now he sounds like he's bristling like a hedgehog.]

I think you got the only warden up in this place that ain't an infant, delusional, or straight corrupt. Or all three at once.

voice

[rickitikitarr]

[Now he's listening. There's the sound of him rolling over in bed, arranging the communicator closer.]

You want to get off the network for this?

[Because oh yes, he knows how to fear a wiretap. His soft, warm stories are one thing, but this is current rage, the rough and incautious kind, it sounds like. But for that reason;]

On the other hand, you sound like you might be saying something we all need to hear.

voice

[omar]

[That gives him pause. Ricki's right; he'd usually be the last one to start ranting on the network. On the other hand, he's caring less and less by the minute what anyone might do to him for it.

But then the pause itself gives him a moment to let out a breath, and at the end of it he sighs, some of the energy diminishing, if not the anger itself.]

Ain't no one gonna hear nothing. Y'all know that. All y'all know that.

[Any inmate with sense, he means.]

[Spam]

[whatthewrackspurt]

[Luna, for her part, doesn't go to Omar directly. She's still at a lack of confidence in herself after losing Jax a few months back, and isn't quite sure she's up to the task of wardening full-time just yet.

She waits to see if Omar wants to talk, but when he doesn't make mention, she waits until dinner shift when she's actively serving him food to pipe up]

Hello, Mr. Little.

[Spam]

[omar]

Ms. Lovegood.

[He pauses to give her due acknowledgement, but then he nods towards the line behind him.]

Don't want to hold nobody up. You got something you wanna ask me?

[Spam]

[whatthewrackspurt]

Of course - that's considerate of you.

[She too glances down the line, aware that maybe in public is not the best time to be having this conversation]

Just if you saw the Admiral's message this morning about you and I being paired together.

[Spam]

[omar]

I did.

spam.

[recinerate]

[beyond is up on the deck, kept to himself near the door to the enclosure, slowly and curiously smoking one of the cigarettes given to him by cassel. he is a novice at this, so he mostly holds the cigarette and watches it burn, only occasionally bringing it to his lips to inhale, then cough, then exhale. he does not appear to be watching the area around him as he stares out across the railing, but his attention is nonetheless focused on any movement that appears in his peripheral vision.]

spam.

[omar]

[Beyond has been one of the people Omar's been paying somewhat closer attention to -- the weird questions, the veil of secrecy, the air that Omar takes as arrogance about him, they all definitely make him one to watch, if not necessarily one to mess with just yet.

For better or worse, on this night, Beyond is making it easy for him. He goes up to the deck to smoke and Omar can just go ahead and follow his usual non-routine-routine and go up there with him. He settles a short distance away, far enough that it wouldn't necessarily seem like he's there for Beyond -- although he turns to openly look at him when the coughing starts, looking amused as he drags on his own cigarette.]

What's that all about, boo?

spam.

[recinerate]

[beyond recognizes the voice. he's good at remembering things like voices; he's skilled at picking up on subtle cues like that people ordinarily overlook.]

Omar, I presume.

[and really, who else would call him boo. beyond gives the other man a sideways glance, making a quick study of his appearance, his posture.]

Did you need something?

spam.

[omar]

[To be fair, Beyond, it's less subtle when he's the only person on board speaking in AAVE. He just smirks and shrugs to be caught out -- he'd pretended to be a warden once, until he'd gotten bored of that, but he's never pretended to be anyone but himself.]

Just wondering what starts a boy on cigarettes at your age.