#corbin001

@call-corbin​

[Angel always loved the limelight. He was a performer at heart and he liked all eye’s on him -- in the past he’d not always been the easiest person to work with, for recording studios or his bandmates. But his Rebirth changed many things, including his need to be the centre of everyone’s universe. He’s still hopelessly narcissistic, but in different ways. He is now at least happy to see other’s perform, and let them shine without feeling bitter about it.

In any case, he couldn’t well resent a dancer. Totally different from performing music, and he’s big enough to admit that dancing wasn’t his forte. Partly because he’d never worked well with choreographers, preferring to march to the beat of his own drum, and partly because years of alcohol and drug abuse have left him less-than-coordinated. Seven years of sobriety hasn’t healed him totally; some changes are permanent, according to the doctors.

Still, relapsing is the last thing on his mind. He’s happily sipping on a Teetotal, allowing the adrenaline to slowly ebb away after his performance. He’s sure to seek out every performer to congratulate them, giving Fee a particularly enthused hug and gushing over Tate, Cambie, Petra, and Roan. He finds Corbin last, as the man is just receiving a glass of something from one of the bartenders.] 

@call-corbin

[She shouldn’t have done this alone. Definitely a mistake. Annie hates breaking rules: it makes her anxious and queasy and shaky, and the no-coffee rule was made specifically for her. Somehow that makes it worse for her, and she’d tried really hard to resist the urge to do anything bad.

But she can’t stop thinking about Pax’s words. People in the Hub that could get her what she needs, under the table. And she really, really needs this. She’s been sneaking into the canteen after breakfast to drink the leftover dregs in people’s coffee cups, and it horrifies her to know how low she’s sunk. It’s disgusting, and she’s ashamed, and it’s why she’s in the Hub. This is... marginally less embarrassing than drinking a stranger’s cold, leftover coffee.

Except now that she’s actually here, she’s sort of paralysed. Oh god, what is she doing here? There’s so much bustle and noise and she can’t even bring herself to make eye contact with anyone. She’s got no idea how to even begin looking for Pax’s contact, and she finds herself standing frozen to the ground, arms wrapped around herself. Annie can actually feel how suspicious she looks, glancing around  with wide eyes and hunched shoulders, and she’s kind of thinking maybe she should just leave before she really embarrasses herself.] 

[He’d lie if asked about it, but Kip had been worried. He’d steered clear of the tattooing stuff during halloween; he’s already in the highest security class, and he’d prefer not to make things any worse for himself. Not everyone had been so prudent.

Corbin, for example. Kip has a handful of friends here, but Corbin is probably the oldest and closest. Certainly the only person he’d seen around before D-Day, and he values his company. When Corbin, along with too many others, were dragged off to solitary, he’d been frozen in terror, desperate to act with no plan to follow. Truth be told, Kip felt sick with himself for doing nothing; but what was he going to do? Stage a prison break, in full view of the cameras and swathes of guards? No. He’s not a hero.

Instead, he’d chosen to sit and wait, stewing in a hopeless sense of his own uselessness. The Delma common room feels quiet now, with so many of their number locked up; and it made the door opening sound all the louder in Kip’s mind. Attention shooting from his book to the door as it swings open, he feels his stomach flip - finally. Corbin. It felt like a lifetime since he’d seen him last, and he’d spent that lifetime nauseous with worry. For a moment his body tenses, like he’s about to spring up, but behind Corbin he sees a guard. That’s new. Relaxing back into his slouched posture on the sofa, Kip hopes he looks chill.] 

You’re a twink now? Where’s your leash? [That can be loosely translated to mean ‘how are you?’]

@call-corbin​:

cvnstantin​:

[When he and Ana had first returned to Earth, Constantin had accepted that his body was fubar. They tell you the impact of space on the human body before you go up, though they don’t account for five years being spent there. So he’d known it would be bad, and when the doctors had said phrases to him like muscle atrophy, spaceflight osteopenia, and balance disorder, he’d just nodded and accepted that he’d be bedbound for a while.

But he’d done the bedbound thing, and then he’d spent some time using a walker, and then he’d used the walker less. Now he’s not used it at all in weeks, and he’s slowly integrating into AP training – though he’s self conscious of how many breaks he has to take compared to the rest of them.

It’s more frustrating now, because he’s stable enough to go about his life relatively normally. He still moves a bit like a geriatric, but it gets better each day. His appetite is improving, he’s beginning to fill out his clothes better. But everything just feels so heavy. He’s healthy enough to live his life, but still too impacted by his experiences to do so completely normally. He leaves AP training feeling frustrated and unfulfilled, because he’s a shadow of who he once was. Rather than heading off to shower with the rest of the group, he takes himself for some laps around the training field. He doesn’t physically have much energy left to burn off, but mentally he is becoming intimately acquainted with the phrase ‘stir crazy’.

He even manages a few laps, done with careful regard to his form, before he falls. He doesn’t trip, or slip, his legs just give up. Muscle atrophy doesn’t repair itself overnight, or indeed over the course of several months. Constantin hits the ground with a grunt, and rolls onto his side with a wince. He realises, as his face relaxes from its screwed up expression, that someone has slowed down near him.] 

Futu-i … Nu, sunt bine. [He mumbles, feeling frustrated and embarrassed – particularly as he realised he’s not even used the right language. With another groan, this time of frustration rather than pain, he says:] Don’t, I am fine. [Usually he’s not too proud to accept help, but he really hates being seen like this. He feels helpless, and he hates it.]

[He’s only come back onto the field because he’d forgotten to take his archery gloves off again. He’d peeled off the leather with a sigh once he’d gotten to the locker rooms, and tried to leave them on the bench, but as he’d been stepping out, Biceps Donovan called his name and when Corbin turned around, the trainer pitched them at Corbin’s chest. ‘Put them away, Ealy,’ he’d ordered. Beside him, Elly had snickered, and Corbin threw her a sour look, then, rolling his eyes, he headed back out towards the field the way he came. 

He’s sort of surprised to see Astronaut Man still running laps. Usually if someone is running laps after the session ends, it’s because they’d been a jerk off during the class and Donovan had forced them to as punishment. Like military-detention. Pfft. It’s odd though, because the Torren Corbin only knows as ‘Space Man’ is always perfectly obedient in training, from what Corbin’s seen. He does as he’s told, even if he has a hard time keeping up, and he never complains. Corbin, on the other hand, is quite often a victim to Donovan’s fitness detention. 

Corbin’s just finished putting the gloves back in the equipment lock up, when he turns around and sees the man drop. Corbin frowns, and he’s not necessarily the overly-helpful type, but he’s like, the only one here and walking by he’s so close—he figures he’d be a total arse not to help. But just as he gets close enough, Space Man mutters a bunch of shit Corbin doesn’t understand, and then a few words he does: Corbin backs off, hands up.] Woah—sorry mate, sheesh. 

☞

[He already feels bad for being so curt. It’s obvious that Corbin is bristling -- and he’s well within his rights to be. Constantin tries not to be rude or aggressive, very aware that with his limited English skills it would be all too easy for him to seem like an unpleasant person.

His reputation has gone the other way, and somehow people have come to view him as a soft teddy bear. It doesn’t feel like a true reflection of who he is, but it’s better than people thinking he’s rude. Unfortunately, that’s probably exactly what this person thinks of him. And it wasn’t even remotely Corbin’s fault, he’d just had the misfortune of being the nearest when Constantin felt a flash of anger.

It’s himself he’s angry at. He’s angry at his weak body and his slow recovery, and he’s angry at his anger. He sighs, a disgruntled huff, and hauls himself into a seated position where he rubs his face.] 

Sorry. [The word is gruff, but he means it. His head is still down, long strands of hair curling protectively in front of his face. He hopes Corbin can’t see that the anger is borne more of embarrassment than anything else.] The anger is not for you. I do not mean to snap.