Goodwill PR Tour!

[pump_action]

Who| The Director and volunteers
What| Goodwill PR Tour to Legion-Lacking planets!
Where| Rann, Tamaran, and Korugar
When| The following week
Warnings/Notes| N/A, will add as needed

[[Plot Note: Rann subthreads going up tonight. Tamaran tomorrow, and Korugar on Sunday]]
[[ooc: PLEASE WAIT TO TAG UNTIL I HAVE PUT UP SUBHEADERS PLEASE AND THANK YOU! have at it!]]

It's something of a whirlwind tour; each stop begins with a fancy dress evening meet and greet mingle, the following day there's a panel where they talk about their experiences, notable missions, what it means to them to be a Legionnaire and what they bring to the overall battle, and ends with a Question and Answer session where the accumulated crowd and reporters can ask specific things of all or specific Legionnaires. If they feel so inclined, time is made for demonstrations and talents. They break for lunch, then reconvene for two to three hours to autographs pictures and action figures or other wares and sundry people might want their favorite (represented) Legionnaire's signature on.

So far, everything seems to be going along just fine ...

Comments

The Shuttle

[pump_action]

They've got a private tour shuttle for the week to take them from one venue to the next. It's not quite luxury, but it is fairly spacious for what it is and stocked with all sorts of amenities. Each Legionnaire has their own personal quarters with a bed, storage, desk, and sonic bathing area, and there's a common area with table and chairs along the edges where you can catch lunch while watching the stars, with a receded square lounging area with cushions in the middle. The kitchen has several prepped meals and additional snacks aside. There is a modest 'faux liquor' cabinet, as well.

[truefaceofthelaw]

[Common areas]
When you spend twenty three hours out of twenty four constantly on the streets moving from call to call, cracking heads and getting shot at, this much downtime is almost torture. Sure, there are vid-screens for entertainment, but Rico can only watch so much Tri-D and do so many pull-ups before he cracks.

So he snoops in the personal business of his fellow colleagues instead. It's a small shuttle, there aren't a lot of places to hide. Maybe you're reading something and he wants to investigate. Or he's hanging around the kitchen during meal times so nobody can avoid him, unless they want to starve. If you've left your door open or even just unlocked, you might see him poking around in there. Another thing he loves doing is plonking himself down right between two people or more, interrupting their conversation. He relishes in any apparent discomfort he can cause. Or if it suits him, he might just sit there in complete silence. But unavoidably present.

"So," he might start. "How're you finding this little trip so far?"

And smiles.

[Kitchen] [i]
If you happen to come into the kitchen in the early hours when people should be sleeping, you'll see Rico sprawled across the kitchen chairs, surrounded by empty faux liquor bottles and snack wrappers piled high. Pretzels, popcorn, mock-choc, potato chips, flavored munce paste... Some snacks are only half eaten, a single bite taken then carelessly discarded onto the floor.

Opening a fresh bag of marshmallows with a crinkle of plastic, he throws one into the air with the other and catches it neatly with his mouth. The next one he throws bounces off his helmet and rolls onto the floor, but he just looks at it, shrugs and leaves it there. Then he digs into the packet, rummaging for one more. Not his budget, not his problem.

[ii]

Much later, when that's lost its appeal, he's quietly humming a gravel deep song instead. Hunched over the table, he rhythmically stabs his boot knife in the spaces between his fingers. It thunks repeatedly into the wood, making it shake with every impact. But as quick as he gets, it never nicks him.

"Oh, I have all my fingers, the knife goes chop chop chop..." he sings with a cadence, tilting his head in time to the rhythm. It's low, rumbling, and surprisingly pleasant. And it's very clear he's not expecting anyone to be there.

[pump_action]

Claire is at one of the tables by the viewports, although her attention is diverted to her datapad as she fires back communications with their upcoming hosts. She has made herself available to answer questions, but outside of sending everyone their information packets she's left people to their own devices. They're all adults here; she figures they can handle themselves.

She feels Rico's presence before he speaks, and merely glances up in his direction. She's not worried about him trying to look at her screen because, yes, she's got a privacy filter in place. Can't be too careful.

"It's off to a smooth start."

[truefaceofthelaw]

Rico makes a little hum of agreement in the back of his throat.

"Your organizational skills leave little to be desired, director. It's clear those are where your talents lie." Paper pushers. "Still, you should always be vigilant. You never know how things could go wrong at any minute!" he says, cheerfully.

And speaking of. If Claire thought that would be enough of a deterrent to snooping, she thought wrong. Rico walks around to the back of her chair, leans down a bit and shoves his face uncomfortably close over her head, completely unashamed. He points a finger at the screen helpfully.

"Two thousand creds for a ride to the capitol? You're getting us ripped off."

[pump_action]

With a sharp huff of irritation, Claire flips the tablet facedown on the table and slides her arm over it, curling in her chair to look point blank at Rico, and as much as she doesn't like having him this close - she's not about to let that show.

"Which is exactly why I am contacting them, Mr. Dredd. Let me remind you your role here is to present Legion's best face forward to these public audiences, not the organizational practices therein. If you have an issue with the way I run things, I encourage you to take it up with the Legion's offices."

She can say this confidently, knowing they'd be on her side.

[bachido]

Kubo isn't reading anything, when Rico comes investigating. He's writing things. For his scrapbook.

Which is a process complicated by the fact that Kubo never learned how to write. He has to dictate text into his omnicom, watch it be transposed as text that his telepathic earplugs allow him to read, then print it out on the palm-sized printer he brought on the trip, onto adhesive-backed paper that he sticks in his scrapbook.

The book itself is full of these printed summaries of missions, as well as selfie after selfie of Kubo in the corner of whatever he felt was important to take a picture of.

When Rico comes snooping, he's just placed a selfie of himself dressed to the nines in his father's spruced-up haori jacket over the kosode and hakama his mother picked out for him. The text under the picture reads "Mother, I am travelling through the stars again, and thinking of you as I wear your gifts. I hope the people I meet will think they look as nice as I do."

Kubo's expression was a small, absorbed smile as he lovingly curated the scrapbook, but the smile dropped as Rico made himself known. In its place is the skeptically horrified face Kubo made when he realized Rico had decided to join them on this little journey through the stars.

"I found it nicer a minute ago," he said, before he could stop himself.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Isn't that sickeningly sweet. Something inside Rico curdles at reading the little blurb, and maybe that's what prompts him to act with a little more planned malice than usual.

"Oh, is that so?" Rico says, as he tilts his head, smile only growing as Kubo's drops from his face. He pushes right into his space, leans over and puts a finger right on the most recent selfie. "This a present from your mom, huh? That's sweet." He reaches out and flips back through pages carelessly, licking his finger as he does, leaving wet fingerprints. "Gotta lot of pictures of yourself, juve. You a narcissist or something?"

This is all pretty tame for Rico's usual fare. But it's only the lead-up to his real batting. He's done his homework like a good Judge, and he's about to make the most of it.

[bachido]

Kubo snatches the book away.

"It's for my mother and father," he says, glaring at Rico, more for slobbering on his carefully curated record than for the insult. "They'll want to know what I've been doing."

Wash had warned him to let him know if Rico so much as looked at Kubo wrong, but did this count as wrong? It's rude and intrusive and nasty but it isn't violent - yet - but he still thinks he'll message Wash about the encounter anyway. He has no reason to under-record where Rico is concerned.

Especially now that Father is not nearby.

"Maybe you should make one for your family," he suggests. To anyone else, it would be a friendly suggestion, but for Rico, it's more an entreaty to behave at least a little. "They must be interested in what you're up to as well."

Kubo hasn't heard of tropes yet, or of 'Even Bad Men Love Their Mamas,' but it is what he's unconsciously banking on.

[goddamngrenades]

Not quite Luxury is still pretty dang swank in York's opinion- lots of space, lots of opportunity to kick back and chill with Emu curled up either on his shoulder, on his chest if he's lounging, or perched on his head. Keeping around and keeping up in his not quite official second command position of cat herding (why did he volunteer oh right she's pretty and intense and he is still on occasion stupid over those things) is a challenge because Claire is...smart and intense and very much in her element which isn't really one he's wandered around in.

But he tries, poking his head in to check on the others, occasionally trying to catch her to double check that he hasn't fucked anything up (yet) or reassure her that everything's going swimmingly.

Ish.

Look nothing's on fire that's good enough, right? right.

[thebioticwoman]

The way you can tell Shepard didn't arrange the shuttle? No gym. She hasn't let that slow her down--you can do push-ups anywhere, and you can make a cardio workout of it if you're determined and physically strong enough. She's both.

When York sticks his head in to say hi, she doesn't stop or even slow down, banging out the reps like she's 18 and in boot again. Of course, when she was 18 and in boot, she didn't have extensive cybernetics, but she figures she's earned the power boost by now.

"Hey, York. What's up?" They can chat. She'd have to be going a lot harder to be too winded to talk.

[goddamngrenades]

Despite himself and his very happy lovelife (Sombra, Locus, YoSoLo all the way even when they aren't-) Old habits and old knee jerk reactions are a thing and he loses just a little time watching. Because-

Um.

Dayumn.

he shakes himself out of it and smiles, offering a wave. "Not much. Trying my hand at this whole 'assistant manager' business so Boss Lady doesn't have to stress about everything. Just. Most things."

A beat.

"I'm supposed to be the people person, I think."

[pump_action]

While everyone's busy enjoying the luxuries that the shuttles does have to offer, Claire is busy doing last minute checks and confirmations about their first stop. After having a conversation with Rico, she's taken her correspondences to her room where she can close and lock the door.

But she will open it for her second in command.

"Come on in, Taylor. I'm just finishing up one last response." She's still very put together and poised, but there's definitely a weariness in her voices. She's already planning on a gin and tonic after this. She sits back down at her desk and taps away at her keyboard. "Everything going alright out there?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Everyone's settled in, some are actually reviewing the talking points and cultural sensitivity packets we whipped up; so I'd count it a win." Some being like- Delta and maybe him but Claire doesn't need to know that just yet right? Right.

"We should be set for the first run since that's more or less a cakewalk, right? Questions, a few photo ops, a nice gala thing. I even remembered to pack a nice suit. Or. Delta remembered to have me do it, same difference." A beat. "How you holding up? Need me to handle some of the gruntwork?"

[pump_action]

"If you could find a way to handle Dredd, that would be great." She leans back in her seat and reaches up to massage her temples. "Other than that, I think we're doing pretty good."

Still, after a quiet moment of reflection she's able to find a handful of small chores to give to York that'll move things along a little better when they arrive. It really is gruntwork, but she smiles at him - an actual genuine smile, and not one of her business pleasantries.

"Thank you, Taylor."

She appreciates competent people, even if some of that came from a weird little computer brain person.

and carolina makes three redheads

[brisance]

Somehow during the small boarding she hadn't noticed. Maybe it's because she's making sure all the luggage is in place - or because she's messaging Wash, telling him she'll be fine, and telling Tucker if she comes back to a trashed water park he's cleaning it himself.

But it isn't until York pops his head out to check on them. She waits until she's sure he's seen her and then she can't help but blurt out, surprised, "Taylor."

It's hard to see him - the last time she'd seen him was when she'd kicked him down an elevator shaft, confused and feeling betrayed by her best friend. And by the time she'd stopped being wrapped up in her revenge quest... he was dead.

It's not as hard as she thought it'd be, looking at him. She knew he was here.

Also: they're on a shuttle. He can't squirrel his way out of this one.

So many so little time so intimidate

[goddamngrenades]

"Yeah, boss?" It's so innate and instinctual that he doesn't think twice about drawling back a decade old response to a ghost long since laid to rest. Carolina isn't dead (thank god) but whoever she is, however she is? Isn't apparently the woman he'd followed into hell and fucked over with his own stupid assumptions and inability to communicate like a goddamn grownup.

But you hit a nerve right and a muscle will jerk- the tone's off. The word's right, the shape of the sound sits where it should at the back of his neck, warm and curling like Delta's chip when he's smugly pleased by cracking a code- but she's...incredulous.

Afraid?

Surprised- The fact he can't pick out the nuances of her emotions from one word as well as he used to implies a lack of familiarity with the language of Carolina's emotional state. He used to be fluent. That, as much as turning and seeing her standing there, jolts him into stillness. "...uh-"

A month ago he'd written a letter he'd never deliver as part of an exercise. Carolina's had been an apology. A year and change ago he'd been toying with pickuplines before he laid her soul to rest and dragged himself onward with his life. Five years ago he'd grovel. Six and they'd never had that gulf of six feet (six miles) between them on a moving platform, red alert blaring. For once?

He has no words.

Hello, Agent Carolina. Delta, however, does, flaring to life at York's left shoulder, green glow highlighting the diminished scarring on his face, shadowing the new lines and creases by his eyes, mirroring the dull glow of his bionic iris. Himself but older. Leaner. Delta, by contrast, opted for the old mjolnir armor projection. Some grounds of familiarity to...balance an emotionally intense interaction.

[brisance]

He doesn't look the same.

She expects that, logically. Even before his untimely passing it had been years since she saw him last. He wasn't frozen in time in reality the way he was in her mind and yet - she spends a good amount of time just looking.

The eye is new but not - she never quite got used to his scars. The scowl lines, laugh lines are deeper and he finally lost some of what she called his baby cheeks. It's a mirror of her changes - she's leaner, more thin scars crossing over her skin.

Delta makes her blink, finally, breaking the gaze and looking at his projection. There's a momentary ache for Epsilon she swallows down, but the sadness of loss is clearer on her face at that moment.

"Good morning, Delta." It's a familiar greeting and her tone is still fond, but her gaze is dragged back to York. What does she say? She knows what she shouldn't say (We need to talk, its a quick way to lose York).

She doesn't remember doing it but the weight of the lighter is in her hand, instinctively touched in her jacket pocket. She pulls it out, holding it loosely in front of her but - she doesn't have words yet.

Rann

[pump_action]

The first stop on the trail. Although there are only three stops, this is probably one of the most important as it will set the tone for the other two; there are a little hiccups as they figure out the best system for local accommodations on the planet itself, time management in regards to local traffic and travel, and ensuring they're following proper protocol and maintaining regional customs so as not to inadvertantly offend anyone (to this end, Claire has provided digital documents sent to each member's Omnicomm about common Do's and Dont's for each planet).

Mingle

It's a fancy gathering, here's hoping you brought your fancy dress! It's a sparse spread; hors d'oeuvre and dainty, decadent fingers foods dot tables throughout a grand hall. The ambient lighting is soft through candlelight-mimicking electronic spires and sconces. In the corner, a small chamber ensemble of local musicians provide a soft but ever-present flow of regional musical selections. There's an open bar, with knowledgeable and creative bartenders.

Panel and Q&A

Claire will moderate, introducing each Legionnaire with a little blurb* and letting them expand as they feel necessary (or, in Kubo's case, merely motioning him on stage so he could introduce himself as previously discussed). She's curated a series of questions pulled from fans or crafted around what she feels each of these new planets would benefit most from hearing (It's Claire, so you can guarantee there are no shipping or 'blue' questions ... she fully expects the Q&A to have plenty of that!).

Questions Claire asked are simple, broad things like 'what were your first thoughts arriving at Legion? How do you feel you can be a help? - and - Has being in Legion helped you in any way? as well as lighter, sillier things pulled from the anon forums. Family friendly things, get your mind out of the gutters

After a decently long panel, she'll open the floor to the audience to ask anything they feel hasn't already been answered. Things could get crazy here ...

[[Feel free to come up with any question the audience might ask!]]

(*On the shuttle after this planet, she will request each of the Legionnaires provide her with a quick bio of how they'd like to be introduced).

Autographs

After the panel, they break for lunch, and then hit the tables to sign photographs and whatever else the fans might bring to have signed. Claire herself will be politely declining body parts, but to each their own. This is the most important part, because it is both the moments that the Legionnaires come face to face with the people, as well as their parting impression before they leave for the next location.

[bachido]

Mingle

Kubo looks nice and sharp in his formal clothes. His father's haori, spiffed up before the mission, is worn as the jacket it actually is over his kosode robe and hakama pants. His mother picked the clothing out for him in her brief time in the Legion, and he looks properly like the son of a noble samurai that he is. The pride has put a little extra energy into his step.

But he's not doing much mingling, having beelined for the musicians and listened, enthralled, to their playing, before asking to jam with them.

Other musicians have been sparse on Legionworld, since Blue Rose's death.

Panel and Q&A

Kubo's idea of introducing himself is to immediately jump into a story - the tale of the Legion's latest fight against the Robo-zombies, to be specific. Though he keeps it short, telling only a tantalizing summary of the epic battle at the bottleneck, where Legionnaires held back the onslaught of zombies drawn by Kubo's music away from a learning creche and to the bottlenecks in the city.

It's, as usual, a good story, and serves to answer the question of how he can (and has) helped in the Legion. As for how the Legion has helped him -

"I can't ever repay the gift that coming here has been," he says, with frank honesty. "The chance to see my mother and father again, and to help others as my father did before me with the guidance of the other Legionnaires is more than I could have ever wished for."

It's a sweet answer, no less sweet for being truthful.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Mingle

If you thought Rico was going to show up in his Judge uniform, pauldrons golden and shiny, then boy are you in for a surprise. Rico is young, vain, and he likes his finery. He doesn't have many occasions to indulge in finery, after all. And part of it is letting other people see. As in keeping with absolute cutting-edge Mega-City One fashion in 2080, he's wearing a decorative facepiece in lieu of his helmet, and dressed in a replica of a Euro-cit style inspired suit by rising fashion star Randy Gitt.

But he's enjoying himself, even if others may not be. Snagging the last dainty finger food even if another hand was reaching for it at the same time, hovering around the bar despite not getting an alcoholic drink, or leaning against an alcove, making judgements on passing people's clothing as he watches everyone glide by.

Or maybe later, somewhere discreet, he might be getting blitzed out of his mind. He's supposed to conduct himself as a Judge in public - Beeny could be watching at any moment. But at the same time, as the evening wears on, the open bar is starting to look more and more like a great idea. He figures - why the hell shouldn't I? Everyone else is. So he has a glass or two. Or more. He feels great. He's not even pissed when they eventually have to cut him off. A fancy, shmancy event like this where he's the center of attention, openly gets to dress up and look good in public? He feels like a damn prince. Like something straight out of the old holo-vids, or a dream palace.

Yeah. He's feeling good. So out he saunters, feeling only the slightest bit unsteady on his feet. Really.

Panel and Q&A

During the panel, it's like he's a completely different person. Charismatic, easy-going, with a smile that looks just about as natural as it gets. Friendly. Harmless. He fields Claire's questions with a social grace he hasn't quite shown before, indicating that he does have them after all.

But during the Q&A, his responses are still a little too... weird. A little too intense. A little harsh, abrupt when it comes to certain topics. And although the topic veers close at times, it's a minor miracle that somebody hasn't asked him about what he thinks about The United Planets or their judiciary and governing systems yet.

And then somebody asks a very stupid question.

There's a pregnant, dangerous pause.

"Excuse me?" Rico asks. Something in his veneer cracks. "I don't believe I heard you right."

[pump_action]

Claire herself is in a simple but elegant burgundy dress, one hand lifting up a local take on a martini, with some odd little black and red garnish instead of olives.

Everything seemed to be going well until she saw someone's expression turn sour and followed it to see Rico in all his resplendence. Claire's eyes go wide, but then she's striding across the room with veiled purpose - can't let on that this is a disaster, despite how much of a disaster it was. She moves as if to walk past him but comes to graceful stop by his shoulder and speaks in hushed tones,

"I do not care if you forgot your pants or intentionally left them behind. We are putting our best face forward, incase you forgot which head you're supposed to be thinking with." She tilts her head ever so slightly to the side in order to shoot daggers at him. Really, Rico? A speedo?! Her cheeks are about as red as her hair, as much from embarassment as anger.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Rico twists back to see who's whispering over his shoulder, and breaks out into loud guffaws.

"Dearing, what are you wearing?" He turns his entire body to face her as he looks her up and down, hands on his hips. "At least I brought my good outfit, what the hell happened to yours?" He would've expected her to dress up at her own event, at least. But then again with her no-nonsense attitude, it makes sense that she'd wear something so boring.

"And what are you talking about?" he asks, in genuine bafflement. "I am wearing pants." He spreads his legs demonstratively in a misguided attempt to be helpful as he gestures to himself, the other hand holding a tiny cake. "Did you imbibe too many of those drinks or what?"

[pump_action]

She crosses one arm over her stomach, knuckles resting against her elbow as she watched him over the rim of her martini (which she was kind of using to block her view of his lower half).

"In my world, that's what we call underware, and it is not polite to show it outside of your own bedroom." She speaking in harsh undertones, trying not to let it blow up anymore than it already has. She is not going to address his opinions on her own dress because, frankly, she didn't expect him to be able to understand women's fashion (or, apparently, fashion at all). "You're certainly not getting an respect or admiration wearing this getup."

Autographs

[goddamngrenades]

York settles in at his table pleased as anything to sign whatever he's given. Merch, books, tablets, bits of (safe for work) anatomy offered with a wink and a smile. There's the odd request for a selfie type holophoto or something or other to be taken with him and Emu and that's just fine. He's content making sure the lines run smoothly when he's not at his own spot and keeping indecent requests to a minimum. Mostly. Look his mouth does run and tangents happen but it's not a Q&A so there's not enough time for him to get in trouble, right? right.

Tamaran

[pump_action]

Tamaran is their next stop, and it's about as different as you can get; a gorgeous, green tropical paradise with large, stone structures rising out of the massive treetops. Their shuttle is directed to a landing pad and they disembark to a heavy, humid air filled with fragrance and chirps of birds and bugs alike.

Mingle

This is a far more relaxed affair, with cushions littering the stone floor for seating, and fruits and simple pastries laid out on large green fronds on the tables. The dress is less formal and more comfortable; lots of linens, lots of bare skin, things that slow and don't constrict. There are a number of children present, running and giggling to and fro, stopping to stare at the Legionnaires in open wonder.

Panel and Q&A

It's set in an open pavilion amphitheater, at a time when the afternoon rains have broke and the heat is not as oppressive. They do have sound aplification technology, but there's a constant drum of heavy rains behind them.

Learning from her mistakes, Claire has seated Rico at the end of the table, next to York, so that hopefully her PA can keep the Judge under control, but also make it easier to cut him off and push the panel along in case he starts to ... be more himself. Kubo gets an extra couple minutes here and there, too.

Autographs

This one, at least, hasn't changed much - even if the backdrop is wildly different. Tables laid out with pens and glossy pictures, lines of eager participants looking for a favorite Legionnaire's scrawling (or come to collect the whole 'set'). Some even bring little handmade gifts or pieces of art! Isn't that nice!