John is the one that finds the bottle tucked away in some service hatch under the floor. Alcohol was rare back on the ark, especially a bottle as full as this, so the original owner hadn't been paranoid to tuck it away. Stealing was a floating offense on the ark along with every other crime but whoever it belonged to certainly wouldn't be drinking anytime soon. He pulled out the unopened bottle of vodka and smiled wide. Murphy replaced the lid on the hatch and stood up with a groan. Now THIS would spice up another evening of Monty's god awful algae.
Harper had started making him that stupid apron the first time she managed to eat a sizable portion of algae without vomiting. "Make algae not war" is embroidered on it's grimy exterior. Three years into Monty's cooking endeavors it was still slimy and bland as hell but had no ill effects other than the poor groups taste buds. For the first couple of weeks he'd eaten as little as possible. (Might have had a little something to do with the fact that the first batch had put him in a fucking coma.) He'd stopped doing that when he'd been so weak Raven had knocked him on his ass in one blow during their sparring session.
"Losing your touch Murphy?" she had laughed from above him tucking a stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear.
Everyone's seated by the time he saunters in, bottle tucked into his jacket. The group is waiting apprehensively in various locations for Monty to ladle out the pitiable imitation of food. The "chef" is divvying up their rations in the tiny galley kitchen and Harper has one hand wrapped around his waist, her face resting on his shoulder. Bellamy and Echo are sitting at the table. Bellamy has one arm slung around her shoulder and the two are talking quietly. They are a recent development. A fitting enough end to the will they won't they dynamic that had practically emanated off of them since Mount Weather.
Not everyone was satisfied with the scale tipping firmly to will they. Raven most likely the least. Putting aside the fact that not everyone on the ring trusted Echo's intentions yet Murphy couldn't imagine that being the odd one out on an empty ship full of couples was particularly pleasant. Emori was at the rings controls with Raven. The twos friendship had gotten stronger since the three years aboard the ring and his girlfriend was well on her way to becoming as proficient of a coder as raven. Murphy made his way over to the two women hard at work at some kind of probe for measuring the radioactivity on earth. The estimate of five years until survivability was looking more promising as their time aboard the ring went on. The group was hesitantly optimistic that they were finally catching a break.
"Hey John" Emori smirked pulling away from an attempted kiss and turning back to the screen.
"What no time for me?" he asked a little irritably covering her section of screen with his hand. "It's ok Emori give your attention whore boyfriend some love" Raven snorted at John's annoyed face and flipped the screen they were working on to sleep mode. "Dinner is ready anyways." she finished shutting their work down and walked away. Emori rolled her eyes and he leaned down to give her a small peck on the cheek. Emori frowned apologetically "Sorry, Raven and I are just so close to figuring out something major with this probe" John nods and they walk over to the table together.
"I think I have something to take your mind off of calculations for a night" he says wiggling his eyebrows obnoxiously. Raven slumps down into a chair on Emori's left "Could you not make annoyingly obvious sexual innuendo at the dinner table please" she interjects burying her face in her hands. Murphy laughs at the former mechanics assumption. "That's not what I was referring too although now that you mention it....." he trails off "Anyways it'll be good for all of us not just Emori"
"Out with it then Murphy" Echo suggested impatiently. Murphy reveals the bottle with a flourish and sets it gently in the center of the table.
