ＯＰＥＮ ＰＯＳＴ；

see timeline notes here + new access file

NEHEDA;

a (training);

[ if you're very unlucky, jack's just emerging from the black box, skin pale, hands shaking, brows deeply knit, and probably looking torn between emotionally/spiritually devastated and so pissed off he could rip someone's throat out, probably yours. either way, what comes out of his mouth when he spots you looking at him isn't terribly promising. ]

Don't you have work to do? Outside of polishing the floors with your drool? [ what's the adage? 'take a picture, it'll last longer'? that's what he means.

---

but hopefully you're more on the lucky side, and you've caught him at a moment he's not so horribly bitchy (there's always some level of bitchiness to be had, this is jack, after all). after substrata, so many years ago, when he'd first had the his skeleton reinforced with the kind of thing they plate rovers with, he'd started to learn that punching people was now a lot like hitting them with metal bats. after years and years of training how exactly to hit, it what angle, and with what twist from what muscles, jack's sort of perfected the art of maximizing how deeply he can shatter bones on people just be means of hitting them with himself, really. all that training built a habit, and he tends to be in training rooms as often as he is drinking, these days. considering his drinking issues have really only increased since coming into this contract ten years ago, that's something.

thus, it's not hard to find in there, in some range between calming tapping at a punching bag to full on near screaming while hitting it so hard it starts to rip. because jack definitely still has anger problems. but one way or the other, when he hears the doors of the training room zip open, he'll be peering over a shoulder. ]

Need the room?

b (draaaank);

[ who's drinking his feelings 24/7? jack benjamin, and who's surprised by it? no one. the man frequents the neheda bar so much that he's come up with names for each of the skellies that run it, and life stories, and can be seen asking one of them "so, how's the wife" now and again, while still mostly sober. of course, without an answer, but that doesn't stop jack from a good chat. if there's nothing else jack benjamin can do, it's bullshit his pretty, pretty face off. but hopefully he has a drinking partner with actual skin and organs tonight, and hopefully that is you. ]

To the next mission being based on an abandoned, tropical, island paradise. [ cheers, sir or madam. ] And the hope for multiple equipment malfunctions setting us behind schedule.

SELENA;

[ i forgot to write a selena prompt oops and now i'm tired, idk. put him anywhere here. yolo, i'm lazy. this was jack's top level last time they were on Selena, so idk, use any of that, lalalalalala. ]

EUDIOVERSE;

m&g;

[ jack hasn't worn clothes this normal in... ages, it feels like. even what he has for casual gear on the Neheda still has it's Space Fashion kick to it, and he owns maybe... two or three normal t-shirts these days. hell, he'd nearly forgotten what simple jeans feel like, and they just fit a bit odd now. not uncomfortable, just odd. it's more the slim t-shirt that's bothering him anyway, with how exposed he's feeling, certain that the cybernetic spine that protrudes about an inch about his skin at his back is too easy to see, especially given the fact it fucking glows just a little, at the sides.

it's also been a very long time since jack has felt uncomfortable in his skin, or been back to this part of his life - the gatherings. the socializing, smiling like he's actually happy to be here, like he actually gives half a crap about the others whirling around him. like he's a prince, still, and not some corporate mercenary that's sacrificed entire worlds, entire races, for personal gain. all rationalizing aside. you can never really get away from what it boils down to, and being in a place like this, again, where he's the only one aware of the tar clinging to his soul, not surrounded by the other crew in the same sinking ship as him... it's not great. enough that, at one point, he's snapping away from the latest person he'd been flirting with, of whatever gender happens to be available (it's quantity here, not quality), and heads for the door, needing some air. that's unfortunately the same time one of the servers comes by to shove some mozzarella sticks in his face. ]

I don't eat anything that fried. Peddle your heart failure elsewhere, and get the hell out of my way.

cuddlr lol (pretend the nasa logo isn't there);

Jack Benjamin (>20, <100) I don't cuddle. I'll manage companionable silence whilst sitting closely. Sex is also on the table, and preferred. Don't touch my spine. Don't ask me about space. Women need not apply.

✓       ✕

YES
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#2EB82E;">✓</span>

NO
<span style="font-family: times; font-size:40px; color:#CC0000;">✕</span>

texts (some tflns, some just........ jack);

a; FUCKING. WATER. DROPS.

b; Do you think I have tenure yet? At what year of service does "punting obnoxious junior recruits into alien volcanoes for the betterment of the crew" become something one can reasonably get away with? Asking for a friend.

c; Star Trek does not adequately answer all the questions that I have about alien genitals.

d; This hickey is now green and covers half my neck. I have an alien hickey. I think he thought my neck was dinner.

e; How did we start talking about space blow jobs?