lastrat | ♠ | 032 | Video + Spam

[The video comes on, and there's a flash of Bond's face - contorted in exertion and annoyance - before the device clatters to the floor. There's what looks like a giant boulder, rolling slowly, and eventually one of Bond's feet. His voice comes at the distance.]

I - have had - enough - bloody floods - to last - shit!

[The boulder comes back into view, rolling quickly - then the feed dies.]

[Open Spam]

[James Bond is not one to look for signs in his daily life. He believes in clues, contingencies, solid, physical aspects of the real world. He believes in what he can see and touch; he doesn't believe in signs that are more likely than not, coincidence and nothing more.

That said, he has spent the morning wondering if this flood is a sign. It's been six months since Ellie vanished and his job was left undone. He doesn't like leaving things unfinished, likes it less when he has no control over finishing them. Four months since he was even assigned a temporary inmate, though he's not particularly bothered by that: he still doesn't see the point. It doesn't earn him his deal. He's no closer to it than he was when he first came back with her blood on his clothes.

And there is no denying how similar this week's flood is in that regard. He's bloody Sisyphus, and his muscles are already exhausted with the constant pushing, rolling, of a boulder nearly his own height. He can't leave it, he can only rest for a few moments, and every time he nears the deck, he loses his grip and it goes rolling, tumbling back down to Zero. He can be found at varying levels throughout the flood, always pushing his boulder or chasing it. At some point, he loses his jacket: by the end of the flood, he's thrown off his sweat soaked shirt as well, baring all his scars to the world. The most noticeable are his right shoulder, his abdomen, along the inside of his left arm; he doesn't care. By the time his shirt is gone, overexertion has his muscles shaking.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This would be easier if he was fully affected. Is that even what this is, he wonders - partial affect? Either way, it's a sodding mess and it takes every ounce of willpower left in him not to bash his head against his boulder.

Oh, no, he's started calling it his.

Instead of pausing to rest and let his muscles start to seize up, Bond keeps pushing, teeth grit.]

Man with a bloody big boulder. Get out of the way.

[He lowers the sword and lets his guard down, since whoever this is clearly has no plans to attack. But he frowns, perturbed, as he sees the other man's condition.]

Where are you going with that thing? And...why?

Who knows any more. [He mutters it, more to himself than to Derek. Earlier in the flood, he might have been inclined to joke, or play along, at least a bit. But he's tired of no one recognizing the plight, he's tired of pushing and chasing and trying not to be crushed. He's tired and hungry and he's bloody done with this ship.

That will need some thinking about, later. For now, he just scowls at Derek.]

I'm pushing it. Because I can't stop. [He could not sound more condescending if he tried.]

[He stays out of the way but as the other man goes, follows along near him, considering. He takes in the obvious signs of exertion, the scars of much older wounds. His expression becomes one of condolence.]

Cursed, then. Is there nothing that can be done for you? I'm already on my way in search of - another matter. But if there's anything I could do to be of help...

[Condolence isn't that far from pity, and Bond's scowl deepens when he notices it.]

Nothing, [he snaps.] In another day, it'll all be done.

[And maybe he will, too. Bond doesn't look for signs in his life, doesn't believe in them, but sometimes you can't write things off as coincidence.]

[His frown deepens at that explanation though, more puzzled.]

How can you be so certain? Unless it's not the curse you're referring to. [Tired as Bond looks, he genuinely considers it possible the statement was meant to indicate he might drop dead of this in another day or so.]

[He laughs, but it comes out harsh, with the effort he's making. He can't remember the last time he was so exhausted, so spent.]

Call it foresight. [He grimaces, turns to push with his back against the stone.] A perk of being cursed.

Well I suppose it true that such things oft tend to come double-sided. [He glances down at the swords he's carrying, as he says this.] I do wish, though, that was something I could do to at least ease your pain.

[Bond pauses, now, panting hard and resting his hands against his thighs, knees half bent.]

You could get me a god damn bottle of water.

Certainly, I could.

[And reaching down he unhooks a leather pouch from his swordbelt - an old-fashioned travelling canteen, as it turns out.]

And I will. [He offers it to Bond, coming closer. It won't be ice cold but it's cool water, and the canteen is almost completely full at that.]

♠ | 032 | Video + Spam

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]

[spam - third day]