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

[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.

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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.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Rico straightens his spine and leans back out of Claire's space, slightly disappointed that the source of his fun was taken away. But he doesn't step back, still standing at the back of her chair facing down at her.

"Oh please. Don't call me mister," he drawls. "And what about this isn't the Legion's best face forward?" he says, as he rubs his chin with his thumb.

He's sure he could pore over the financial records and find some kind of insignificant transaction that could've been much reduced, and send a ten page report on it. Hell, he has free time. Too much of it recently. "But that's an excellent idea, Miss Dearing. Might take you up on that. Not to insult the excellent work you've been doing so far, of course."

[pump_action]

"Knock yourself out, you're certainly good at picking through the details." She doesn't mean that in a good way, but if he can think she's giving him a compliment she'll take it. Also, go ahead and write a ten page paper. Write twenty. Anything that'll keep him off her back.

Claire smiles at him, the quiet expectation that he will understand this as his dismissal, but she's not about to go back to her duties until after he leaves.

In fact, she's thinking that once he does head off she'll probably take this to her room and lock the door. So much for the space-side office.

[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.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Rico lets Kubo snatch the book from under his hands. What a perfect opening. He's given the perfect segue to launch into targeted commentary, but when he opens his mouth, he's pre-empted by Kubo asking about his family.

What.

He's so off the drokking mark that instead of reacting with defensive tension in his shoulders as he's inclined to when anybody so much as mentions his family - no, he barely has a brother anymore - he snorts instead. "Who says I have one?" Rico says, flatly. "The Academy discourages the emotional connections that might come with that. But enough about me. What about you?"

He's not here to talk about himself, after all. What an insult. Normally he would've taken it for a targeted remark, but he has his doubts about how calculated this juve's research would be, or whether he'd have the capacity for it. He slams the book shut, palm flat on top of it. "It's a waste of time, resources, and effort. Nobody you're making that for will ever so much as see this."

His fingers drum on the cover.

"So what's the point?"

[bachido]

The last thing Kubo expects to feel for Rico by this point is sympathy, and yet, here he is, feeling that.

"I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

It goes a long way towards explaining how horrible Rico is. If no one had ever shown him kindness or love, if all he'd ever had was the Judge Training in a world of horror like America had described, then it made sense for Rico to be as aggressive and cynical as he could be.

"Mother and Father have both been here," Kubo points out, firmly. They could come back. No other thought cheered him up like that could. "People sometimes come back even after they go. It's not a waste to do things for people you love. Or to do things that make you think of them."

Pointing out that Rico only didn't understand that because he didn't grow up with anybody to love would only be cruelty, not an explanation.

Still, it is such an empty existence to imagine, and Kubo can't stop feeling unexpectedly sorry for the man.

"I hope you have someone to make a book like this for someday," he says, a firm little frown still stuck on his face. Sympathy doesn't mean Kubo wants Rico's hands on his book at all. "In the meantime, please take your hand off mine."

[truefaceofthelaw]

There's a moment of silence, as Rico just stands there. It might even seem like Kubo's words have finally gotten through to him, the polite hope that he would become a better person in time, and have somebody of his own to care for.

"Sorry?" Rico repeats, flatly. He stares at Kubo behind his visor, like he can't even believe what he's just heard. "Sorry?"

His grip tightens on the scrapbook, the binding creaking under his gloves. And just when it looks like it'll be crushed in his grip, he suddenly relaxes, leaning back and snatching the book with him.

"You're better off keeping it for yourself. A half-blind, scrawny orphan who kills everyone he cares about feels sorry. For me."

Rico starts laughing. Not a wild laugh, but a small chuckle that speaks of real amusement. In fact, it seems like he can't stop laughing. "You can keep your whatever with people you love if that's what you get from it." He grins as he starts flipping through the book haphazardly, keeping it just out of reach of Kubo's hands, turning it this way and that. "A bunch of empty pictures and nothing."