text | calling across the cosmos

[genice]

There's quite a few of us who are new arrivals, yeah? I'm told we should make ourselves comfortable and get to know our neighbors. It's been eight months since I last really moved anywhere, so hello! My name is Victor Nikiforov. If any one of you feels like discussing our new location or occupations or anything else, please join me for a drink!

[ He even includes a ping for the bar he's at. Conversations up to this point have been anything but promising. So here he is. In space. Surrounded by space people. Talking to other "we did not want to end up in space, probably" people. ]

Also, three questions! Who is fond of dogs, is there anything like Instagram on these, and who knows anything about figure skating?

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[genice]

( Makkachin sets his head on Tigress if he can, panting in his happy way as he enjoys the tentative ear scratches. His tail wags in a slow, lazy arc, as if he's trying to reassure the both of them. (He is.) )

Wow. ( At her statement? The parroting? Something else entirely? ) I can imagine they find the benefits worth the risk. I wonder why something so flawed can be considered necessary... I don't understand how something like this can work, but I guess there has to be some kind of exchange. We're being pulled here. Yet people aren't being pushed away? That seems strange to me.

( All said idly, taking threads of conversations he's had so far with members of this crew. He introduces it as a meditative commentary, allowing for conversation, but also just allowing it to be words he says to an audience with... far more fur than he expected. )