spam } anya

[Mal goes to Anya first. Of course she goes to Anya first. Pietro, she thinks, would want her to know first - would want her to hold the news for a while before anyone else did.]

[She tracks her down in the library and stands with her legs braced apart, fingers tapping on her hips. There is an edge about her; she is doing her utmost to hover in frustration, rather than head straight into bloody rage.]

Anya.

private } erik

Pietro's gone. Thought you might like to know.

private } barbara

We need to speak in person.

public } voice

Pietro Maximoff has left the Barge. For good, it seems like.

[Looking distinctly unruffled - so nothing new there - Mal addresses the camera distractedly, as though she has something better to be getting on with. Which she does not. Unfortunately.]

Apparently this type of thing is supposed to be announced publicly, so, since we don't have a bulletin board or Barge crier, I'm adding Pietro Maximoff and Racetrack to the list of those who've fallen into comas. Anyone who has outstanding grievances with either of them is more than welcome to come draw on their faces or put weird objects in their pockets under strict supervision.

[She might be joking. She might not. It is a mystery.]

Also, if anyone needs a hand with anything barring technology more complicated than an oil lamp, I'm going to have a lot of free time on my hands for the foreseeable future.

( private | anya, elena, dean & polly )

spam

[Mal will be found in the pub this evening, not because she's particularly despondent but because she's bored. The pub is an easy and convenient place to watch people, and besides, she's gotten enough of a taste for bad beer by now thanks to the military's bad influence that this is practically the lap of luxury.]