Owner	Pose
Terry O'Neil	The Dreadnought isn't exactly Home Sweet Home, but it's the closest thing the shipwrecked, trail-less wanderers of the stellar night have as such. Running at the bare minimum, the red lights and sparse illumination is conducive to at least some rest, as studies have shown that red light has positive effects in circadian variations in cortisol, alpha amylase and melatonin. The fact that it had been an /exhausting/ and harrowing time might have had something to do with exhausting people, too. They had come back from Gateway so that Lucan could take a look at what he could salvage. Once that was done, Lucan would come back with proper salvage equipment and give them a ride to whatever destination they decided next. Until then, they had some hours to rest and pack anything they might want. Not that they couldn't come back whenever they wanted to, thanks to the Rabbit Hole, but still. The Cheshire cat can't sleep. Not just yet, anyways. There was too much to absorb, and he was having a little fun flashing the Flash Unlight at things, but mostly he was busy ruminating things in his head. He had managed to salvage clothes from the Commons so that he wasn't walking around half-naked anymore, and a mismatched outfit emerged- a frock coat that looked like Gilbert and Sullivan went to space over a black T-shirt, some metallic blue pants (with a hole cut in for the tail, a modification he was forced to make) and fingerless gloves. No shoes, and his injured foot was now warpped in actual compression bandages. He plops down on one of the command chairs in front of a mostly useless console, and sighs a little, raising his foot to rest on the frame of the console as he glances at the viewscreen, its impossible planetary scene beyond. Dejectedly, he points at the viewscreen, "Warp nine, Mister Chekov, take us home..." he drops his arm and sighs again.
Caitlin Fairchild	"Best I can do is impulse engines." Caitlin's not exactly hiding, but buried in shadows in a corner of the bridge while working on something. The redhead waves in apology and stands, unlimbering herself from the uncomfortable cross-legged slouch she was in while under a bulkhead. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. You doing okay?" There's a sympathetic expression on her earnest features, and she moves over to the chair before hunkering down next to it in a low squat. Her hands rest on the armrest. "If you need some privacy to mope and cosplay, I have a million other things to work on," she offers, and tries to coax a smile out of Terry with one of her own.
Terry O'Neil	Terry is startled, alright, and he bumps his unraised knee on the console with an 'ow!' and he rubs the stinging joint. He looks a little embarrassed, but that doesn't last long after Cait makes the quip about cosplaying and he chuckles. "Oh god no, no, I was just..." he waves his hands, "Wishful thinking? Yeah, we'll go with that." He slowly lowers his raised foot, "Just... a lot to absorb, you know?" He glances around and then looks back at Caitlin, "... I didn't want to sleep. I take it you're not feeling sleepy either?"
Caitlin Fairchild	"I can get by with pretty little sleep," Caitlin says. It's a bit of an evasion, but likely truthful enough. "I'm a little stressed, but more worried about y'all than me. I've been in deep space a time or two with the Asgardians. It's... I mean, we had better food last time. Sorry, again, about dinner." Lips twist into a moue of wry irritation. "I really thought I had the food replicators figured out. At least it wasn't burned too bad." She follows Terry's gaze to the viewscreen, illustrating the slow drift of the planets through the infinity of the limited space around them. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she frets. "I know, it's gonna be... I mean I can't do much, but..." Fingers flex in the air, trying to grasp an ephermal concept and finding themselves unable to.
Terry O'Neil	"It's ok, it was very educational. Until tonight, I hadn't thought how accurate that 'almost exactly unlike tea' line in the Hitchiker's Guide To The Galaxy was." He flashes Cait a smile, "Eventually you'll get it working right, or we'll at least have some interesting culinary experiences." He grows quiet for a few seconds, and his glance drifts out to the starless sky. "It's.. hard. I can't help but think that if I had somehow managed to get the damned Rabbit Hole right, we wouldn't be here. And if I could find our way back..." He waves a hand in the air. He had conducted the experiments in front of them- any time he tried to create a Rabbit Hole back home, it would simply end up going into itself, a portal to nowhere.
Caitlin Fairchild	"Well, it's good to know your powers adhere to *some* laws of physics," Caitlin says with forced cheer. "I mean, it makes sense; this ... uh, dimension, or whatever, is essentially a closed toroid. It's literally infinity in every direction. We should count ourselves lucky your powers work here at all." Caitlin stands, arms folding over her stomach. They work over her triceps as if she's cold, though perhaps it's more nerves than anything. Even in a sport top and shorts, Caitlin's more comfortable with the cool air than most. "But you shouldn't feel bad. Any more than because Vic and I can't just pump power into the engines and punch a hole from here to home. For all I know, that could end up smearing all of us across the length of the galaxy. Buncha... spaghettified Titans," she mutters. "Besides. Donna at least got a message out." A furrowing of her brow joins those words. "I mean, so she thinks. I just hate the idea of everyone at home worrying about us. Y'know?"
Terry O'Neil	"That's what I'm trying not to think about..." Terry says, his voice a little strained, as if he's trying to fight back some emotion, "I keep thinking. Mom was abandoned by my dad, I'm all she's got... and April, but they're strained. April lost /her/ parents. And Gar." He takes a breath, trying to bring himself to some center, "Gar's lost so much. He has to be..." He goes quiet for a second. "I hope the message gets through..." He glances at Cait, "... who do you think about. When you think about back home?"
Caitlin Fairchild	"My brother." Caitlin's looking at the window, a bit wistfully; it occurs to her what she said and she startles briefly. "Oh. Yeah, that's... kind of a 'need to know' thing," she apologizes, and tugs her ponytail through her hand once in a fit of agitation. "I don't talk about him a whole lot. Only like... y'know, the oldbies, know. Donna 'nd Richard." The redhead digs her phone out of the waistband of her shorts and fiddles with him. Some habits are hard to break even in space. There's no bars, no signal, but she produces a picture of herself being put in a playful headlock by a strapping, deeply dark-skinned young man a few years her senior, out together somewhere socializing. "He does some, uhm... kind of ... shady stuff, so that's why he doesn't come around the Tower much."
Terry O'Neil	"I sometimes wish I hadn't been an only child," Vorpal comments, grinning at the picture, "Then I realize I could have had a sister that could have put me in a headlock. No worries, I won't tell anyone." He reaches into his frock coat and takes out his phone. A few seconds later, he's showing her a picture. "That's mom. Agatha." It is likely that Terry's human side looks like his father, because Agatha's face is one of those interesting ones, full of sharp features and prone to a severe look. But the red hair, the freckles and the green eyes are definitely her legacy to Terry. "She's a private investigator." "I feel a little..." he starts as he stows the phone away, "I mean, you, Vic and Donna have gone through a lot together. I'm the rookie here and I'm scared that I'm going to be the reason we don't go home. Like... you should've had Raven instead of me. Raven could have done her weird darkness thing and scoured these planets for wherever that crashed ship is. I have to have a /visual/ first before I can open a hole. Lamest power ever..." he rubs the bridge of his nose, "What do you make of it- what happened down with the Gatekeeper? He wasn't expecting Donna to call him out on lying."
Caitlin Fairchild	"I... don't know," Caitlin admits. She looks around for somewhere to sit, and settles on an old bulkhead that looks like it'll support her weight. "But that's Donna's thing. Reading people, doing the personable stuff. I don't have that knack for it." A little grin slips past her worried expression. "You kinda remind me of her though. Maybe even worse. Donna is like... a princess, you know? She's used to being in charge and asking questions no one else would think to ask. Oh, my gosh, the times she used to get us in *trouble*," Caitlin whispers confidentially. "'This commonly accepted American practice is stupid!'" she announces, mimicking Donna's voice and accent pretty well. "You've got that like... dramatic touch. I can see why you and Gar are so close."
Terry O'Neil	"Caitlin, are you calling me a /princess/?" the Cheshire cat says, with one raised eyebrow and a smirk, "Because if you are, I'm going to have to demand a few changes around here. Curtsies, for one. Do you know how to curtsy?" He leans back in his seat and chuckles, "I'm here for /all/ the embarrassing stories of Donna, though. Oh god, do you have any of Gar?" he crosses one leg over a knee, and leans forward "I don't want to ask about Rae because I know she'll know eventually and then she'll extinguish me like a flame, but feel free to share anyone else," he chuckles. He takes out the Flash Unlight and twirls it around a bit, "Strange little things we got, hm? What do you make of yours? It's a... reality compass, yours, no?"
Caitlin Fairchild	"I don't curtsey for /Diana/," Caitlin tells Terry with a grin. "Let alone for you." When the UnLight is produced she extends open palms towards Terry, requesting permission to examine it. "Rae isn't really as bad as you think," Caitlin says reassuringly. "She just... doesn't emote well. No emotional language. So when she does express an emotion it's only when she's lost control. That usually means she's angry." "As for Gar..." Caitlin snorts, and shakes her head. "I mean, gosh, where to begin? He's like my other, little brother. He used to get into it with Vic *so bad*. Like he would tag Vic with magnets right before press conferences? And bumper stickers. Vic would get him back though. Superglue on Gar's favorite controller, this one time. And when he convinced Gar to wear a flea collar for almost a full week."
Terry O'Neil	Terry lets out a loud, gleeful cackle that he immediately stifles with his hands, just in case the others are sleeping, "Oh god... that's priceless... that's... man..." he shakes his head, "I've gotta get him a flea collar now for..." He stops and counts on his fingers, and huhs. "It's been half a year already." He straightens up a little and looks over to the viewscreen. "Do you ever wonder who you'd be, and what you'd be doing, if... this sort of life hadn't happened to you?"
Caitlin Fairchild	"Oh, you're still..." There's a wry, thoughtful sigh, and Caitlin smiles at Terry's angled profile. "Sorry. I forget how new this is for you." "I did," she admits. "For a long time. I used to wonder where I'd be, what I'd be doing. How much easier life would be if I didn't have all--" she gestures vaguely at herself. "This all happened to me kinda suddenly, y'know. Literally in the space of ten minutes." "But after ... after Doomsday," she says, forcing the words. "I had a lot of time to reflect and think. And I realized that I only wanted to puruse that line of thought when I was having a bad day. Trying to escape from things. And we can't get away from what we are. The only thing we can change is what we *do* with our skills, and..." Caitlin looks around, bites her lower lip, and shrugs helplessly. "I mean this immediate situation sucks, but the truth is we do a lot of good and it's very rewarding. Better than punching a clock as a- a- courier, or messenger."
Terry O'Neil	"It kinda does suck. We're faced with planets that apparently had rogue sociology majors decide each one's approach to the problems of society. And we have to somehow deal with them to find out how we can get home and find the secrets of a dead space pirate." He steeples his fingers, "You know... if we get back, I should write a science fiction book based on all of this. I'd call it..." he waves a hand, by way of writing a title in the air 'Dread Pirate Catalina And The Lost Worlds' - it'll have everything, race cars, lasers, airplanes, it's a space blur..." He smirks, "Maybe I should write it. Think it might have legs?" He outs up both feet on the console in a Tim Curry-as-Frankenfurther gesture, to capitalize on the pun.
Caitlin Fairchild	Caitlin laughs at the Cheshire Cat. "Terry, it doesn't have to be 'science fiction'. It's a literal biography," she observes. "You're here, observing it, watching reality happen around you." "But that's the right spirit to have." Her hasty amendment comes on the heels of realizing she's stifling his creative flaire. "You could do an expose about it! A newspaper article. 'My Time Lost In Space'," she says, panning a hand across an empty area over her head. "Sorry, I'm not-- I'm not super creative with stuff like that," sh e adds, a little lamely.
Terry O'Neil	"Oh it'll have to be fiction. Terry's the one who writes the exposes, and Terry wasn't officially on the Dreadnought because he's a squishy civilian." The Cheshire crosses his arms and exhales a little "Man. I imagine that by now I've been declared missing. When we come back, I don't know how I'm going to come up with a good enough story about my secret identity being missing and yet somehow come back without any injuries and no hospitalizations..." he might have to ask Lois for help "I'm feeling a little better... maybe I /should/ try some sleep..." he ponders this for a few seconds, wondering about the odds of certain dreams coming up. "Can't afford to be slow because I'm sleep depraved. Deprived. Whichever. You know... when we get back," now he's saying when instead of if, so it's progress, right? "We've got to do something big to celebrate. Like... I dunno. We'll have to brainstorm ideas. Probably involving food, 'cause like ninety percent of the team has the metabolism of Tasmanian devils," he chuckles.
Caitlin Fairchild	Caitlin offers Terry a hand up out of the chair, squeezing it with reassuring solidarity. "I'm gonna go sleep too, soon," she promises him. "Everyone should get rest when they can. We need you sharp, y'know." A hand rests on Terry's shoulder. "I know you feel like the rookie, but the truth is we need you. We have no mobility without you. It's a lot to put on your shoulders, I know," she apologizes. "But you really are doing great, okay? And I know you'll see us through this little adventure. And you'll have some stories of your own to tell Gar." Caitlin's arms open to offer Terry a reassuring hug.
Terry O'Neil	Terry smiles and takes Cait up on that hug, taking a deep breath and squeezing back. "Thanks... I mean it. We'll get through this somehow, and I'm not going to drop the ball. Don't worry about putting stuff on my shoulders, I gotta pull my weight or else I won't really be a Titan." He steps back and grins, and says "If I had sisters... I have to tell you, I'd choose you and Donna. I know you've got my back, and I'll have yours no matter what." He starts limping towards his designated sleeping spot before he stops, and then adds "But... don't tell Donna. She will never let me hear the end of it!" he grins and then hobbles away.