Appetence

Archive Log: 24

"Love is like a bomb, baby, c'mon get it on. Livin' like a lover with a radar phone. Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp. Demolition woman, can I be your man?" Someone had got the genius idea to reroute the speakers and highjack them essentially for playing music. Not that there was particularly anything wrong with new wave British heavy metal from the 1980s...it was just questionable who the culprit was, who had decided to blare such music throughout the whole ship? Considering the only person who was still in the bridge was Janek, it was rather easy to pin the blame on him. He was lounging about in one of the chairs, legs over the arms, cap slightly pulled over his eyes and his arms crossed across his chest it seemed that he actually wasn't paying much mind at all; when really, considering his feet tapping against the air he was more than aware to the song playing.

With Janek deciding to bring music to the ship, everyone else was off exploring their new home; which corridor led where, what rooms held what equipment, how many of the rooms were actually likely to be used? The basketball court for example, though a brilliant idea, it didn't seem like many would take advantage of the moment and have a game. However, the bicycles in the corner on their stands might've been another idea completely. The corridors were wide enough, plenty of bright lighting, no sharp turns...hence why Minerva found herself peddling down the corridor at a leisurely pace.

Watching things in her room was slowly becoming boring, and she had dragged David out to explore. He excused himself for a small amount of time to go and check on her father. Peter Weyland was already asleep and stashed away in his chamber in a room which no one would even think to go in, mainly because it just looked like a storage room. The less people who knew he was here the better, he'd appear when and if needed, and if not, then no harm done.

"Beep, beep," she said, imitating a horn, or at least a bad attempt of some comical sound. She squeezed the brakes, seeing as how Millburn wasn't moving. She leaned against the handlebars as he looked over her and the bike, he mainly looked behind her and she looked back too and winced. "Oh..." The slightest sights of tire tracks could be spied. "I'll clean it later." She waved a hand nonchalantly.

"Isn't that why we've got help?" Millburn crossed his arms over his grey, thick looking jumper.

Minerva frowned and put her hands back on the handles. "David isn't a maid." She said while kicking off and cycling away from the man. He may not have meant it in that way, but it was coming across like that. Turning a corner she quickly swerved and let out an 'oof' sound when she was basically taken off the bike. The bike itself carried on with momentum before hitting a wall and crashing down onto the floor. Laying there she quietly grumbled before opening her eyes, blinking she looked up at the concerned face of Chance.

She must've either ran over his foot, or feet, or hit against his legs because he was now crouching on the ground letting out pained noises. He seemed to snub down his moment of pain to kneel and help her sit. "Are you okay?"

"I think I should be asking you that, seems I hit you." Minerva chuckled nervously. She rubbed the back of her head, she wasn't exactly able to feel pain; but receptors back there definitely signalled damage was done. Not heavy duty damage, but enough for her system to suddenly kick into overdrive and check.

"Me? Oh, I'm good."

"Chance...seriously?" Minerva asked unconvinced. The man looked like he was forcing the pain in, unconvincingly looking at her with a strained smile. The man looked hurt, and he really was awful at acting otherwise.

"Okay," he sighed and held onto her hand and helped her up. He seemed to limp a little as they walked over to the bike. He reached down slowly and pulled it up by the handlebars. "I may have to shuffle and stumble around a bit, but I'm honestly good."