lifeaftr | [OPEN] time to get busy, such a lot to do

Entry tags:

[OPEN] time to get busy, such a lot to do

Who: Agent Maine & OPEN
What: repairing ramshackle buildings
When: early July
Where: near the Denny, library, and carpentry workshop
Warnings: n/a

[ One of these days, Agent Maine will learn how to face emotional issues head-on. He'll learn how to confront problems that he can't physically fight his way through. He'll learn coping mechanisms that don't involve bottling things up and stubbornly ignoring them until they inevitably explode in fury and violence.

Today is not that day.

Fortunately, today is also not a day when Maine feels like bludgeoning anyone who looks at him funny. This is a day to bottle things up and ignore them. This is a day to keep active. This is a day to work towards accomplishing a mission. And Agent Maine's current (self-assigned) mission is repairing and restoring the huts near the Denny.

While he's less conspicuous in blue work pants and a gray t-shirt than he would be in bright white armor, the massive Freelancer is still hard to miss. He's seven-feet-tall, built like he could throw a car (he can), and he's making a fair bit of noise as he works to repair the structures. Sometimes he'll stop and stare at a weathered book with a furrowed brow. Other times, he'll take a break from carpentry in favor of stripping off his shirt and doing an absolutely ludicrous number of pushups. But for the most part, it's work, work, work.

Depending on what he's doing, Maine might pause in his task if someone approaches. (Pushups never stop, because pushups are important.) Or, if someone is wandering by while Maine is up on a roof, he may call for their attention if he needs something on the ground. Just don't try to convince him to keep the noise down, or he may deliberately get louder as a big "fuck you." ]

(( ooc: maine can be found doing pretty much any repair work you can think of. if you have any questions or would like to plot something specific, feel free to send me a pm, ping me in the game discord, or hmu on plurk @

twofouroneten. ))

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(Legion does not need to go to the Denny, but they often spend time there and in the surrounding areas anyway, because that's where the people are.

The sight of someone working out between episodes of physical labor is familiar; some members of the Normandy Crew indulged in similar behavior. They pause and watch Maine for a while. Or at least, until he notices them.)

[ Maine is more or less the opposite when it comes to seeking out people. He visits the Denny on occasion, sure, but certainly not for the company. Even now, he's in this area for a mission; that there are other people around is background noise — or as close to background noise as it can be, considering how much time the space marine has spent in combat zones.

So he initially pays no attention to the figure that halts in his peripheral vision. It's not the first time someone has stopped to stare at him, and he doubts it'll be the last. He keeps on doing rapid-fire pushups, enjoying the burn that builds in his muscles, then eventually drops into a plank and focuses on holding himself absolutely still.

… The figure still hasn't moved. And finally, Maine raises his head to look at them.

It's not what he expected to see. Maine blinks, trying to discern what, exactly, he's looking at. Someone in armor? A robot? He can't tell. But he doesn't tense or show any other signs of alarm. He just stares back and eventually raises his eyebrows in a silent query:

"What?" ]

(Staring is often considered rude by organics.

They consider leaving without an explanation now that they've been noticed, but enough programs believe that this would also be rude that they reach a different consensus.

They let out a brief burst of mechanical chatter.)

Greetings.

[Church had noticed Maine's general absence from the...what, base? Hut? House? It wasn't conspicuous at first, given all the bodily fuckery, but after that, it just seemed more and more apparent, and once he came back, he was...different, somehow?

Hard to tell, really. Sure, he likes Maine-not-Meta well enough, funny guy, not a dumbass, keeps well enough alone unlike some people, but he hardly knows the guy, really. Even when he was in Maine's...in the Meta's head. He was a little preoccupied, understandably, and what was left was...it was the Meta. Not the same guy, by any means.]

There you are. [He says it as though he was specifically looking for Maine. He hadn't been; he was investigating the ruckus, but this is an added bonus.] Didn't know you were a carpenter.

[ Maine freezes. It's a split-second thing barely visible from a distance, but it feels much, much longer to Maine. He feels the way his breath catches; he feels the way his fingers tighten around the hammer; he feels the spike of cold that shoots through his veins. He feels it all, and he's instantly disgusted with himself.

When the fuck did he start freezing? He's not a damn civilian. Hasn't been for a long time.

Maine shoves the sensations aside and turns to look at Church. At Alpha. At his amnesiac A.I. teammate that may or may not have died in his head. ]

Learning.

[ He jerks his chin at the well-worn manual laying nearby. ]

[Oh...book, hey, an honest to god book! He snickers.] Nerd.

Though I guess there is an actual library, huh? Maybe I should check it out and pretend to be a nerd myself. Old fashioned learning.

You need a hand or what?

[ The Freelancer instantly makes a face. He's not a nerd! ]

Books are good.

[ Yes, he said it, and he means it. There's a nostalgic value to them for Maine, but there are more practical reasons as well. For one, he can learn things without having to talk to people.

He stares at Church for a second, somewhat uncomfortable with the idea of being close to and spending time with him. Then Maine unceremoniously squashes his own sense of unease and gives a firm nod — perhaps firmer than the situation calls for. ]

Hey, you don't have to be so solemn about it. What am I gonna do, accidentally burn it all to the ground? That's Caboose's job, and he's not here, thank god.

[He makes a motion like rolling up nonexistent sleeves and comes over, peering down at the book for a moment.]

Bet this is all way easier now that you're not fuzzy and vaguely quadrupedal.

[ With anyone else, Maine might be concerned that his "solemn"-ness might garner followup questions. He might prepare himself for inquiries about his thoughts or feelings. But Church breezes right past it, and Maine appreciates the fuck out of that attitude.

Maine doesn't want things to be complicated. He doesn't want them to be confusing. He just wants to accomplish his mission, whatever it might be.

So Maine snorts and makes another face before he answers, ]

Body was weird. Didn't like.

[ He'll take his armor and weapons over claws and sharp teeth any day. ]

"Caboose"?

One of my teammates. Almost half as talkative as me. Huge dumbass. I don't know how he's even still alive. We upgraded our armor at one point, and he went down one, because he figured the closer to number one, the better.

[Church shakes his head. Shouldn't be alive, and yet somehow is way more alive than he is. Cool! Great. He doesn't miss the Blues at all. Definitely not.]

Strong as anything but nothing but rocks in his head. And yeah, a lot of the Reds and Blues I knew had stupid fake-sounding names. I swear to god his name is actually Caboose. Not first name, obviously, but still.

[Jules is not in any way used to seeing someone closer to his own size than that of a typical human. It catches him a bit off guard for a moment, though he's not totally sure why it should. He's been here long enough to know that the variety of people - for lack of a more all-inclusive term for sentient beings both human and non - is pretty wide ranged.

As his eyes sweep off Maine and onto his "project," Jules realizes there's a lot to do around here even if he has no idea what it's for. Typically he's one to provide more anonymous help. He's doing that in quite a few places already, though not as many as he used to with the number of people he knew that had vanished. It isn't usually like him to ask to help someone else for no good reason, but what the hell. He's done it before. And besides, with this guy's carpentry skills maybe Jules will learn something that could help him with wood carving.

He approaches close enough to be seen and heard but still keeps a decent distance. If there's one thing Jules isn't, it's trusting. At all.]

Need a hand?

[ That distance is appreciated, even if Maine doesn't know the reason behind it. He's a big guy who maintains a large personal bubble. Add to that his years in combat and his standoffish attitude, and it's generally a good idea not to try and get too close to Maine without permission.

The big Freelancer glances up from his work, taking in the stranger's size and physique at a glance. Then he tilts his head slightly. ]

Know how?

[ His voice is deep and so rough it sounds almost like a growl. But based on his tone and expression, he's not refusing help: he's just asking a question. ]

[He shrugs.]

I'm a hell of a lot better with more technological repair work and construction, but I've done my fair share of general manual labor too.

[He'd pretty much dabbled in any type of work he could get his hands on after he'd been cast out of his bloodline and planet, basically. While his skill in generalized construction isn't anything to call home about, he's pretty sure he can figure it out. He's managed to upgrade and booby trap his monkey nest home after all.]

[ Maine hums. He can relate to that. The Freelancer has been trained in the maintenance of plenty of equipment, including weapons, vehicles, and, most importantly, his armor. But all of that technology is from the 2500s; his experience with these kinds of rudimentary repairs is minimal.

After weighing the offer for a second longer, Maine nods in acceptance. He gestures to some floorboards that he's yet to tackle. ]

Rotten.

[Jules is used to working on space craft. Wooden houses definitely are not the same. He heads over to the boards, still keeping a good distance between the two of them, and checks the things out. Yeah, definitely rotten. Some even look like they're going to disintegrate in his hands when he tries to pull them up. Awesome.]

Got replacements somewhere?

[ Maine grunts an affirmative. He hasn't brought the replacements inside the hut yet since the rotten wood still needs to be torn out. But he gestures to the back of the building. ]

Out back. Used. Better than that.

[ "That" is said with a nod to the rotten floorboards.

The "used" wood has been scavenged from other structures in worse states of repair. The sort of huts with floors that will have to be completely gutted and replaced with new wood. Maine is trying to make do with what's available for as long as possible before he has to start felling trees and trying to create brand new boards. ]

Works for me.

[He's much better at tearing things apart than he is putting them back together. At least non-high tech things. Ripping these floorboards out could be kind of fun actually. It will keep him in shape too, and he's been getting rather bored of his workout routine here.

Now how to get the nails out? He's not about to sacrifice one of his knives, but there's bound to be a piece of metal somewhere he can melt into the right shape.]

Know of any scrap metal floating around anywhere?

((As a note, I'll be away on vacation starting tomorrow, so you won't hear from me for a week or so.))

[ Tex had herself been spending little time at their hut, having been traveling the islands in her armor and spending the night out in the open air wherever she happened to be when she got tired. She hasn't seen Maine since they shared fruit-picking duty a little while back. When she sees him repairing the hut near the Denny she figures he's preparing to set up the gym there. That's good news. She approaches, still in armor, and looks up where he sits on the roof. ]

Need any help?

[ The words are delivered with a slight wry humor, since those are pretty much the words he had said to her last time they'd been together. ]

[ There's a slight hesitation before Maine responds. A moment when a memory of a memory flashes through his mind. But that person (they all felt like people) was named Beta, not Texas. Why should Texas remind him of her? Then the moment passes, and Maine looks down at the woman below. ]

Know how?

[ Thanks to his distraction, he's missed the connection to their last conversation. ]

[ She lightly shrugs. ]

I'd be better with it if it was something with an engine, but I should be able to help.

[ She finds the spot where he'd evidently climbed up and grabs a handhold. It had probably been a lot easier for him, but Tex manages, and she's up on the roof with him in a matter of moments. ]

[ Maine quickly scoots to the side so that Texas has room. A little too quickly, judging by the way the roof protests. He casts it a mildly annoyed look and settles himself in a more secure spot. The last thing he wants is to plunge through the very roof he's trying to repair.

Once they're both settled, Maine hums in agreement. ]

Machines are easier.

[ For starters, he's actually trained in how to fix them. Unlike this little project, which is entirely self-taught. ]

Yeah, I think I agree with you.

[ Tex pokes around a little, testing for weak spots in the thatching.

She finds plenty. ]

What's the point in making a roof out of stuff that rots?

[Working out isn't an unfamiliar concept to her. Magnus used to get up early and jog around the camp when he was still around. Sometimes she would join him, more often she didn't, and she knows what push ups are because of it.

But he's doing a lot of them in quick succession and it makes her think there's another reason he's up to this. Maybe he wants to push the ground somewhere? The logic is sound, but the earth doesn't work that way and she doesn't want him to be disappointed when all his efforts are in vain.]

What are you doing?

[ That, Maine thinks, is a dumb question. It's obvious he's doing pushups. He continues to do several more before it occurs to him that the person might be asking about the tools behind him and his repairs to the hut. Only then does he slow (slightly) and raise his head to look at the speaker.

It's a stranger. A young woman he doesn't recognize. And she's not looking at the hut: she's looking at him. Presumably asking what he's doing right now.

Without stopping, Maine grunts out, ]

Pushups.

[ The "duh" goes unsaid. ]

[The duh goes unsaid and also unheard. The lack of a reason for bothers her because now she's just confused. Is this his idea of fun? It doesn't look it.

But maybe it's one of those things you have to try to understand its value. So she waits-patiently, quietly and eyeing him with a certain degree of uncertainty until-

She decides to try it on her own, dropping to her hands and knees beside him and-

It takes only one half-pushup to decide this isn't her jam. The bag pressing against her back doesn't help, but even if it weren't there she would probably lay on the ground anyway. Terrible. She hates this. She didn't even make it all the way back up.]

Do you like this kind of thing? Doing pushups?

[ That may well be the saddest pushup that Maine has ever seen. It's not even a full pushup. Just a sort-of-attempt that's abandoned halfway through.

The Freelancer — who is still moving a bit slower, but hasn't stopped — raises his eyebrows as the stranger gives up and lays down. Part of him wants to snap at her to get up and try again, but he represses the impulse. She's not a fellow marine. Not by a long shot.

Maine's initial response is just a nod. After realizing that it may be hard to distinguish, what with the continuous movement, he speaks again. ]

Good for you.

[ Pushups, he means. ]

[After her own half-hearted attempt, she disagrees. It didn't feel good on her arms or back. Actually, it kind of hurt and it was heavy. Good for you he says. It very well might be, but she's going to stick to eating veggies. That's good for you too.

It's impressive to watch him continuously repeat a motion she couldn't do once and while she doesn't try again, she stays quiet for a long, long moment until-]

You aren't tired? It doesn't hurt?

[If someone's busy building shit, Tim's eventually gonna find out about it. Or rather - he likes to find out about it. Wasn't his intention to start increasing his area of experience as far as construction work goes, but by now, he's managed exactly that.]

[Slow days at Denny happen, here and again. He steps outside, squinting at the sight of someone up on the roof of one of the old huts nearby. The distraction is better than succumbing to the urge to light up a cigarette, so he sticks his hands in his pockets and wanders out to shade his eyes under one hand and peer up.]

You running low on materials up there?

[ It's a slightly precarious position to be in given the current state of the roof, but that's why Maine is up there. The roof needs repairs, and the only way to do those repairs is to climb up. Thankfully, the building's height isn't enough to bother Maine. He's jumped off of taller structures than this and been kicked off of things even taller.

That said, he's not looking forward to climbing back down. It took long enough to find a more-or-less secure position to work from, and he doesn't want to have to try and settle himself again. Thankfully, someone calls up with a question before his current supplies are entirely exhausted.

Maine looks down. He doesn't recognize the man, but that's not surprising: he's not a social person, and he was basically absent from this island for well over a month. He nods an affirmative and grunts out: ]

Nails.

[Well, Maine, you're in luck. Tim does have nails, even if they were traded to him by Héctor McSkeleton. And he still even has some left over.]

Might have some in the carpentry place. Didn't realize someone else here was working on the buildings.

[There's a faint note of surprise in his tone - the fact that someone else is bothering is, uh, new.]

[ The Freelancer hums and glances back to his current project, as though weighing the surprise for himself. Repairing things isn't Maine's area of expertise. Not by a long shot. He's at his best when he's destroying, preferably in the middle of combat. But … well, he doesn't know what else to do. Doesn't know how else to alleviate the phantom sensations of needing to be whole.

Of course, Maine's not about to explain all that. He just looks back to the stranger and shrugs. ]

Needs doing.

Yeah, I mean...not wrong there.

[Not big on the talking, this guy. That's fine. What would've been off-putting behavior once is now almost routine. He knows too many people who just aren't big on talking, for whatever reason.]

[How old is this guy, anyway? Older than Tim, maybe? It's hard to tell. He's bigger, that much is evident.]

Not that I'm an expert on this or anything, but if you need, you know...help or anything, I'm usually around. Extra pair of hands to hold stuff down, that kind of thing.

[ Over three months in this world and Maine still isn't accustomed to strangers readily offering assistance. He frowns slightly, not suspecting ulterior motives (when does he ever?) so much as he's just trying to make sense of it. Trying to figure out why this guy is offering.

Maine remembers feeling compelled to help others. He remembers how fulfilling it was in the moment, and how bizarre it has been looking back. Maybe this stranger is one of those 'has to help' types.

After a moment spent puzzling it over, Maine shrugs again. ]

Sure. [ And the first thing he can use help with? ] Nails?

[ Which is kind of rude and impatient of him, but tact isn't really in Maine's repertoire. ]

[Yeah, yeah, okay. You got your priorities, he'll give you that. Tim doesn't quite snort, isn't there yet, but he does huff quietly in acknowledgment with the closest he gets to humor at baseline.]

Yeah, all right. Gimme a sec.

[It really only takes him a minute to head back to the carpentry, rummage through his supplies, and turn up with a box of nails. Files a mental note to ask the Storyteller for more later, since this probably won't last the whole area.]

[By the time he's back, he holds up the box and shakes it.]

Catch?

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[OPEN] time to get busy, such a lot to do

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