2nd Observation [accidental audio // open commentlog]

[fred_cassidy]

[Fred has been exploring despite the repeated warnings about danger, under the theory that the ship is huge and the likelihood of being in the same place as trouble is low. His entire existence contradicts this theory, but Fred is nothing if not People's Exhibit A of unbridled curiosity, and there was no chance he'd stay put for longer than about

Comments

[imsorryimissed]

[fred_cassidy]

Yes?

[imsorryimissed]

Why are you singing about people dying?

[fred_cassidy]

I hit a chord that reminded me of that particular song.

[Also, there are people dying.]

[roughcriminal]

[Whiskey had made a robot of sorts. It was barely a foot high and wobbled dangerously, obviously made from an erector set, some spare hardware, a few remote controlled cars, and a camcorder. The camera was mounted on the top, the little thing's arms spreading and snapping back in as it rolled along after him.

He was, of course, looking for more alcohol. He could just horde it, or maybe sleep on the bar. But that defeated the purpose of going out when all the rest of the ship was in such a tizzy.

Things tried to kill Whiskey with pretty frightening regularity. Something else trying to kill him, and not even him specifically? Didn't bother him too much. He stops as he hears the music, grins down at the camcorder.

He produces a hand held remote that bears more resemblance to Frankenstein's monster, and off the little bot goes, whirring frantically.]

[fred_cassidy]

[Fred turns on the bench as he hears a whirring noise behind him. The incipient nervousness disappears when he sees Whiskey's rolling disaster of a robot.]

Speaking of being much maligned by nature.

[roughcriminal]

[The robot whirrs and chitters, rolls back away from Fred and turns its camcorder up to look at him. It suddenly falls over on its side.

Whiskey sighs and scoops it up, turning it upside down to squint at it.]

Still working on that part. Fred! I'm going to start thinking you're not scared of dying horribly the way I keep running into you.

[That seems vague. But Whiskey grins and puts the robot mess on the piano with the remote. He sticks his head under the cover to look at the strings.]

You know Bankrobber?

[fred_cassidy]

I'd prefer to avoid it, but I think there are enough people seeking out Death that he'll be too busy to come after me.

[Fred grins as Whiskey reveals knowledge of the Clash.]

On guitar. I never arranged it for piano.

Ask for something off London Calling. I know all of those.

[sonotyourdog]

That's the second time I've heard that song.

[fred_cassidy]

You've only listened to London Calling once?

[Tsk. Don't you know the Clash is The Only Band That Matters, Haine?]

[sonotyourdog]

I heard it by a woman who played on the piano, like you did.

[Nope.]

[fred_cassidy]

Ha! Someone else has good taste in music. Don't suppose you could introduce me?

[brynkitten]

[Bryn claps her hands after Fred finishes his song.]

My, is there anything you can't do, Mister Cassidy?

[fred_cassidy]

[When you've tripped and fallen on your face, pretend you meant it all along.]

I'm hopeless on a 12-string.

[brynkitten]

That makes two of us. I don't even touch other instruments unless they have a keyboard attached.

...not that I have any faith in my ability with an accordion or keytar.

[fred_cassidy]

I'm passable with a 6-string, and in theory, I play the violin.

This theory has yet to be supported by a reliable experiment, mind you.