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[theotherright]

Cabin 127. No calls, we text like men on our disney cruise phones.

If you send Arthur a message it will be read out loud in one of a selection of friendly automated voices!

Comments

[iwearnomask]

[A longer pause before an answer. Hesitation. Thinking. Deciding what to say. Were he standing in front of Arthur's door again, this would be the moment he leaves. The fact that he said anything at all has been more progress than every stop he made before, and it's forcing him to stay instead of vanishing obviously.

Besides, there's... There's much to say. Much he needs to say, but the words elude him. Or he's avoiding those, too.

Focus, focus.

Despite everything, he feels... Good about the comment from Arthur. Even if he reads it as sarcasm rather than a compliment, it feels... good.]

I've been trying to, yes. Arthur, this ship appears to be neglected, if not abandoned. Much of the damage appears recent. It isn't the dark world, but [He deletes and re-types this part a few times, before committing.] it hardly seems safe. There's dried blood clinging to the tiles of the shopping level, and the writing in the cabin hallways.

[Including Arthur's name, as he said already. Should he... No, he doesn't want to sound too invested. Or desperate. To that end, he cuts his description short. Get to the point, John.]

There's something wrong with this ship, Arthur.

[Look, there wasn't a muster drill this time and John's been doing his best to avoid anything else spotting him, no one's brought him up to speed yet.]

[theotherright]

[ At first, Arthur wonders how on earth John's managed to go so long and figure out so little. Like, what the hell?

Then the picture flips, and he realises that John's been stuck here this long and with that little information, and how downright frightening that must have been. This isn't the well-stocked and self-repairing ship with its informational muster that Arthur himself woke up on, and it was bad enough with those things. Has John even managed to talk to anybody? The idea of him being friendless here doesn't feel nearly as poetic and justified as it did when Arthur was angry. It feels more like Arthur had a duty of care, and royally fucked it up. ]

We should really talk

[ And then a moment later, another text: ]

But not on the phones I don't I don't like them there I'm liable

[ And then, after some internal back-and-forth: ]

My cabin let let me know

[ John's been in his head and in his eyes. His cabin, after that, is hardly a stretch of privacy.

Pathetic, isn't it, that Crichton dies for longer than expected, and suddenly he feels ready to talk to John again. But he's sure he would have felt the same if John had texted him before now. Definitely. Probably. ]

[iwearnomask]

[Is it strange that he can imagine how he sounds, reading his words?

In any case... Arthur is right. John has more to tell him than just his observations of the ship. And perhaps with - with their ugly feelings out of the way, he can... Explain. Apologize. Figure out what's next, after the amphitheatre and the mirror.]

Yes, Arthur. We need to talk. In person.
I will head there now.

[And he does. When he stands in front of Arthur's door this time, he will not hesitate.]