[Hello, Studio. Before you can even see T'Pol Roxie, you can hear this song playing. Loudly. If anyone's near her trailer, you can definitely hear it emanating out the open door.]

All right, you guys know what they say about the mice playing while the cat's away, and I think that's fairly relevant to our situation, don't you? Yeah, me too. So tonight, when your head is bursting full of the lines you've been running nonstop, I want you to come to my trailer. Well, the general vicinity of my trailer, really, because we're going to have a party, and I'm offering up my space to host.

There are drinks, there's food, there's some killer music, and guess what? No early calls tomorrow morning. This is the free night they always promise you but you never get, so let's enjoy it.

Oh, and to all my underage colleagues: I'm not going to jail for you. So feel free to come, but if I so much as see you near the non-juice table, I'm booting you out myself.

Chris, I know you're coming. Jenny, Michael, if I have to hunt you down and drag you here by your scripts, you're coming. Everybody should come. We need another dull, quiet night around here like a bullet in our heads.


((OOC: This is Roxanne Ryan, Better known as Roxie, who really likes to just have a good time. She hates having to play a straight laced, linefacey Vulcan all day, and really just wants to let loose after filming, when she can, so damn straight she is taking advantage of this.))

How very...primitive. [The video flicks on, and T'Pol is looking very obviously disgusted. And haughty. And really disgusted. It's not her typical YOU HAVE TO SEARCH THESE EMOTIONS OUT, nope, she is straight up mocking the barge.

Oh and her hair is long again. FLOOD RULE.]

Is this meant to keep me here? Primitive and pathetic. Who is in command here? [Some of the disgust fades, just enough to smile.] I require a meeting, face to face.[The smile fades slowly, and then there's just a very dangerous look on her face.] Soon.

[She's flexing some of that awful psychicness; people on level six may find themselves with a headache.] I don't like to be kept waiting.

[And she reaches out to kill the feed, but pauses, and her nostrils flare.] Does everyone on this ship smell so revolting?


((OOC: I'll be replying and tagging around with scaryfacemelter because three icons ARE NOT ENOUGH GDI :C Also basically T'Pol is an ancient Vulcan - all emotion, very logic, and a looot of psychic power. To really dangerous levels, given all the emotion, so she's really just making a faint point by trying to make all the people around her uncomfortable. So if you want anyone living on six, or passing by, to get anything from an ache to a migraine, go for it! Or nothing, obviously, FEEL FREE TO HAVE NOT FELT ANYTHING.))

[Backdated a bit to before the end of the flood:]

[Private to Trip]

Meet me in my room.

[Spam for Rhade]

[Immediately after this, T'Pol headed for Rhade's room. She was quick, but not without care, and checked the hall several times before slipping down the corridor to knock on his door.]

How long before the complaints ad nauseum cease, another hour? Two? Perhaps someone would like to give us an inkling as to what the flood is this time. Even the faintest of usefulness is preferable to listening to the lamentations of humans.

[Private to T-X]

Give me access to the lab.

[T'Pol's hair is long; she's wearing it pulled back so it's not immediately noticeable, but. It's still pretty noticeable. :|]

Now that Mister Donowitz has left, is there a barber on board? I'm aware someone asked recently, but not of the answer.

[Moving on in the best of Vulcany ways. :|]

[Hi Barge. There's a very serene looking Vulcan on the screen. She isn't quite smiling yet, but it's lying in wait.] In light of the recent flood, if anyone would like to discuss their experiences, I have a good deal of free time on my hands. Slade has slipped into a barge coma, it would seem. I've left him in his room, and intend to check in on him regularly: I believe he would prefer to be there than the infirmary, if that is acceptable.

[And there's the smile.] I'd be happy to speak with anyone who feels it would help them.

[She nods, and leans back, looking satisfied. The rest is directed toward her apparently now vast group of friends, though it's still public.] On an unrelated note, I've considered allowing my hair to grow out. [SHOULD SHE, BARGE?]

Is Mrs. Sexby's mirror the only one speaking? An encore of what happened at the end of October would be unfortunate.

[Private to the Unaffected]

If you are in need of assistance, I will try to provide it. Are you the ones involved in the inmate rebellion?

[Private to Sam W.]

I need to speak with you.

(((OOC: T'Pol got the names of the unaffected from a mindmeld with Sam. <3)))

[Stress. So, so much stress, it's straining the hell out of her voice.]

Tell me about the Federation.

[Private to Snape]

Severus. I believe Doctor Hix requested your assistance.

I would have thought the Barge was outside the reach of spacial anomalies. Is there anything that could survive attacking this ship?