#pfrpchat

[agentnashville]

Alpha Family Dinner (@All Team Alpha)

[Nashville had slaved over a hot stove for, like, forty minutes to get dinner together. Not that he minded. He had on his Kiss the Cook apron, sleeves rolled up, dancing around the kitchen to some awesome new West Earth Techno Folk.

He'd even set the table, ready for his teammates to arrive. That was love, right there.

Nashville had prepared a big pot of spaghetti and meatballs, some garlic bread, and arranged everything out family style. Now all he had to do was wait for people to arrive.] 

[watchoutforlittlerock-blog]

It seems these weights are getting lighter and lighter.. Or am I just getting stronger? Yesterday I was in here lifting three hundred and fifty, and today it seems like no trouble at all. Must be something in the water.

[freelancerouge]

It could just be me, but I've always thought a ship this size would be... a bit more bustling.

[unit-pegasus]

Well.

Have there been any other surprise team-changes nobody's told me about?

[unitxindus]

Photograph

I-I-I wish-wish to begin vi---visually re-record-recording ever-ever-everything. 

So, as-as-as humans sa-say, Smile! 

[agentnashville]

Sick Day (Open to people in the Medbay currently)

[Just because he was laid out in bed, puking every half hour, did not mean that Nashville was going to get all bummed out. Hey, they were going to be docking soon, right? Right. Everything would be fine.

For the moment, however, he was bored. And he'd gotten his hands on an empty IV bag. Blowing it up, he set about drawing a happy face on one side, a sad face on the other, decorating it with hair and big ears and a hoop earring.] 

Look, I'm not saying puppet show.

But seriously. Puppet show anyone?

[agent-charleston]

[After officially finding out about the sickness going around (and counting himself lucky that his earlier, faint symptoms seemed to have mostly faded), Charleston had taken a page from his family's book and decided to make some soup. He remembered his mother setting up a big pot on the stove in the morning and returning to it in the early afternoon - although judging by the bad-stench radiating from the kitchen now, that was all he remembered of the recipe.

Charleston sat at the counter for the moment, a cutting board in front of him as he tried to figure out what thing to add would make the meal smell less horrid. As he examined the selection of things in front of him, he mumbled to himself, unaware of anyone else that could possibly have wandered in.]

D-don't think that's, ah, h-how it's supposed to turn out...

[agent-honolulu]

Oh, goodness, oh, no -

How is everyone feeling? Can I help at all? Blankets, soup, a cold compress? Anything at all?