R40 - We're made in stars, we're up in space

[with_my_teacup]

[Riddick is compelled to write only two. There's plenty he doesn't write. He doesn't need a fucking holiday to tell people why he cares about them.]

[Arthas]
You Stole My Heart

Figuratively, not in the chest scar way.

You're terrifying ♥. [Yeah, he draws the little heart. Fight him.]

[Megamind]
Happy random earth Holiday to my brother from another penal system. Keep surviving.



[There's a certain patter in Riddick's voice, a certain... almost nervousness but not quite. His lazy drawl is gone. There's also a pale gray cast to his skin, a certain lifelessness, a certain blue light that almost looks like is reflecting off of his goggles but is actually coming from inside them.] And so we flood just in time for the Earth holidays again; have we accepted it as a given that the admiral does this deliberately now-? But it's only only certain Earth holidays, and usually the same, frequently Judeo Christian, always English-speaking. Some day we'll put in port on Helion Prime in time for Ramadan, and the rest of you will get used to eating at night. As long as we're in port and the kitchen staff doesn't have to deal with it, what is it about the kitchens that seems to be a trap for incapacitation and drama I can't say-

Sorry. Train of thought ran away with me there.

Any-hoo. Carry on, barge.

[Filtered to breakfast kitchen staff + on call wardens]
I'm not in or on form today, mentally or physiologically, by which I mean I can't taste anything and my sense of smell is completely gone. I'm going to require help with the menu and with tasting. Mister Wuornos, if you have your sense of taste and are currently also mostly yourself I could use your help.