stand_unshaken | IC Inbox

From:

thebubblyone

Free for lunch today, Mr. Morgan?

From:

dog_eat_dog

Hey, I need a bottle of something fun. Grab one for me?

From:

omniavincit

Some of the doors he kicks in for the hell of it. Not this one. Plain battered wood, it gives him a twinge—recognition, nostalgia. That little tweak the park gives to circumstance. He turns the handle and enters, leaving the door ajar: see who might turn up.

No one's home. William lights the lamp in the corner, begins assembling his impression of the absent warden by its soft light. He brushes off the hat, turns it over in his hands. Inspects the spurs. Listens to his own boots knock against the floor. When he uncovers the map and pictures, he spreads them out on the bed—leans over it, one knee planted in the mattress, the lamp raised over his head.

From:

questionsonly

I was told you might need some help in custodial?

From:

shadowsran

Hey, do you wanna go camping?

From:

dog_eat_dog

She hates the silent treatment. It never takes longer than a day or two for her to get antsy with it. Slightly less than, in this case; there's not much else to distract herself with, and it's not like she was wounded in any way that justifies making herself scarce to lick her wounds. She'd thrown around the idea of starting shit somewhere just to make him come to her, pick a fight, do something stupid, but none of it seemed remotely productive.

She was the one stepping on toes, and she knows that. That's on her. It's her bridge to mend.

So she turns up outside his door and knocks. As per usual, incessantly.

From:

getawaycarr

Once Allison figures out Arthur is very literally her neighbor, it's only a matter of time before she catches him in the hallway to strike up a conversation---after the whole lying-bug thing has run its course, after all. Can't risk any crickets.

She stops him as they are both about to enter their respective cabins. Convenient? Yes, but only because Allison has, of course, oh-so-covertly tailed him here from the dining hall post-dinner.

"I've been meaning to say hello," she says, "I just arrived, I'm right next door." She extends her hand, smiling a neutral smile. "Allison Carr."

From:

dog_eat_dog

[That breach was, perhaps surprisingly, not so bad, in Tess's books. More cramped than average, and the family arrangement was a little twisted up, but it was familiar territory just the same. Almost felt normal, skirting guards and work details and hearing about how futile it would be to escape.

For other people, maybe not so much. They might value their freedom a bit too much for something like that.]

If you wanna beeline for the Enclosure, wait up a minute, I'll go with you.

From:

hellfollowedafter

Hey, Mister Morgan.

[She says it while bringing back her empty bucket and wrung-out mop, shift complete.]

Fellow asked for help in the kitchens. I said I could rustle up a fish fry and such.

From:

dog_eat_dog

Hey, outlaw. [That's fond, especially with a voice that's fishing for something.] You miss shootouts? Misty and I have an idea.

From:

vaccination

Hey, how about keeping your fucking inmate in check? She ran off with my journal like a fucking coward. I'm giving you the chance to get it back before I take it into my own hands. It's my stupid warden item thing, so I'm sure you're not keen on it being in her hands for too long.

From:

dog_eat_dog

Tess is a light sleeper even on the best nights, and when there's turbulence, any chance of going back to sleep vanishes. Tonight is no different, and she's up on her feet immediately, her boots already on. Something's happening. It's no train, but it's something, something immediately calling to her.

She drags on a hoodie and shoves her communicator in her pocket, and she slings her backpack over one shoulder, her pistol still inside. She lets herself out of her cabin and glances down the hall, and thinking better of something, she pauses by Arthur's door for a moment. She fishes the communicator out of her pocket and types to him:

Something's up. I'm going to take a look around.

She considers briefly that he might not be checking his communicator at midnight, even if he is awake, so she raps on the door quietly with her knuckles. If he isn't awake at all... well, she'll see him in the morning.

From:

dog_eat_dog

Did Allison ever manage to talk her way into your room, by any chance?

From:

dog_eat_dog

[She doesn't truly want to say this, especially in person, but she can suck up her pride enough to leave a note... just in the interest of being honest with him. She owes him at least that.]

The buyer let me know I can have a stake in his end of the operation if he or his partner ever leave the Barge. I don't think it'll come to anything, and I don't want in. Just so you know.

From:

wildguardian

[As soon as he's done talking to Steve, he'll be texting Arthur.]

Do you have a few minutes to talk? I have something for you.

Plus, I need to talk to you about Tess.

From:

dog_eat_dog

[After the incident with Yunlan, Tess picks up her communicator to send a message to Arthur. She's breathless and keyed up when she speaks:]

Uh, Yunlan's going to message you. I just wanted my stupid fucking handkerchief back and he broke my arm for it. I left him knocked out cold but he's in one piece, so there's that.

[A beat, a hard exhale. Almost a laugh.]

Sorry!

From:

wildguardian

[It's taking Yunlan a little longer to message Arthur than it took Tess: for one thing, he's more than slightly concussed, and for another, he needed to take stock of the damage to his cabin before he made the call.

He's assuming Tess hasn't made the mistake of letting him call Arthur first this time, but frankly, he doesn't care. His tone is tightly controlled, but not quite controlled enough not to let the fury show through.]

Your inmate just broke into my cabin and attacked me when I got home to find her there.

If she returns the jewelry and weapons she stole, I might let it go.

From:

dog_eat_dog

He wants space. Fine. That's fine. Tess is an expert in space, practiced in the art of leaving a man alone until she has something to offer, some need that supersedes the silence. Someone died, or nearly did, and we need to deal with that. Someone got hurt, we have to fill in. Something came up, we have to go deal with it. We never have to talk about ourselves, so let's talk about this instead. Move on.

Home offered that up in spades. Hell, the Barge usually does, too. The space game has been ongoing with Butcher for weeks. Arthur's been days and the need for an excuse feels ten times as excruciating.

But the barge doesn't offer up any convenient excuse. No floods, no breaches, no port that would have her knocking on his door. She could bring up Yunlan having an attack dog, but to what end? Bucky threatened her, but there isn't a scratch on her. It all just feels like paranoia. There's no excuse.

No excuse beyond not wanting space, anyway, but it's not really her call to decide when he's had enough.

The one she comes up with herself feels far more tedious than just saying hey, this matters. Arthur will likely never understand the effort it takes to figure out how to get a photo off her communicator with only an old iPhone, the clunky Barge network, the clunkier Inmate network and whatever hardware the common rooms have, but she hopes the sentiment comes through anyway. She can’t put how much he matters to her in words, she can’t admit that just thinking about fucking up their bond leaves a tightness in her throat, but she can bust out that old selfie of them after the treasure hunt, bathed in summer light and smiling like idiots. Taken after their first actual spat –– one that feels small in hindsight.

She gets it printed out. Writes in pen on the back: Treasure Hunt, July 15 ????. It’s fit for a scrapbook.

She just slips it under his door and heads back down the hall.

From:

dog_eat_dog

[A lot of dread went into sending this, and there's still a trace of it in her voice, but hey, she's being responsible.]

Inmates are up to some bullshit –– planning a retaliation for one getting killed yesterday. I'm not invited for obvious reasons, but I've been asked to hold onto some contraband if someone gets killed. If that happens, you wanna come with me and "bust" me so I can at least look like I tried?

At home if you want to talk.

From:

littlebattles

How's the custodial load feeling, boss? Do you think you could stand to lose me?

From:

dog_eat_dog

🤠👋

From:

dog_eat_dog

Whoever's in the Brew when she walks in might not realize it, but her heart is still pounding hard. She's been in enough bad situations to keep her cool, and when she picks an empty table and sits down at it, she hopes she just looks distracted, not completely freaked out.

She scrolls through the communicator rapidly. Edward had mentioned the network, and when she goes back, she finds his post. She's a little too disturbed by the mere sight of him to listen to much of what he's saying. She knows she's fucked this one up badly, and for once, she doesn't feel like she's being disingenuous when she makes excuses for it... but she still made a mistake.

Anyone from her world could have made that mistake. Ellie might just do it too, a couple days, even a week from now. Who wouldn't shoot? She was generous enough to just go for the knee.

More disturbing to her: he's a warden. There's no way on earth he's not going to tell someone, and Larry's enough of a bootlicker that he'll say something when he figures it out. That's what that blue thing was, right? Larry's thing?

She swears she's going to lose enamel off her teeth, clenching her jaw like this.

The whole situation is fucked. She feels mangled, inside and out. Fucking Infected. She navigates away from Edward's post before she starts to feel nauseous. She goes right to Arthur's inbox, away again to Tiffany's, away once more to Larry's. She contemplates Misty and Jake and Butcher, and then goes right back to Arthur's. There's no avoiding this. No one else is going to get it and it's coming out no matter what.

She opens up an audio line:

"Arthur. I screwed up."

She sounds like she swallowed a frog.

From:

antithetic

Is this Arthur Morgan? My name is Leia Organa. I've volunteered to be the second supervising Warden for custodial shifts.

[ Leia sounds brisk and professional. ]

From:

dog_eat_dog

Eleven months into her stay on the barge, Tess still wakes up and checks her surroundings: apartment. Not in a scouted secured building, no one keeping watch. No gulls, no harbour sounds, no loudspeaker warnings. Not Boston. Still the Barge.

And if it’s the Barge, and not Boston, or some false life, or some world-ending calamity, then she’ relatively safe.

She rolls over, stretching as she goes, and grabs her communicator off the bedside table. No new messages. No new network posts, either. No more murder sprees, to her knowledge. She sends a message to Misty about greenhouse schedules, a message to William about dinner. No quick replies — they’re probably both sleeping. Fuck it, then, no excuse to lay in bed. She’ll get up, go for a run in the Enclosure, and hopefully be able to get in and out of the dining hall before it gets busy.

Tess flips open her tablet, opens the music app, and starts her playlist where it left off. Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines pours out of the speaker, needlessly loud. She turns it down just enough that it won’t disturb Ellie, but still loud enough to make her brain thump. Wake the fuck up.

Normal day, right?

From:

undisguised

Hey. I've been looking into something for an inmate about warden behavior, and I was hoping you'd be willing to answer some questions for me. It's about what happened between Yunlan and Tess back in December. I'm just looking for different accounts on the situation. Ideally, I'd like to talk to Tess about it, too, but, well. Figured I'd start with your take, if you're willing, and go from there.

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Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness

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