CHARACTERS: Netherlands and YOU!
LOCATION: oxygen gardens, all the kitchens every single kitchen
WARNINGS: mopey sadsacking, mild drug use, the usuals
SUMMARY: catchall for general interactions and/or job training
NOTES: it’s starter options a-go-go in here. despite that if there’s something else you want just throw it down and let’s go or poke me to hash out the details


GARDENS

[If you’re looking for him, he’s not too hard to find. Relative to the size of the Gardens, that is - they’re massive, but so is he, and he frequently can be found between rows of hydroponics on the first level with a bright orange bicycle by his side, sometimes with a hoverdolly full of produce or supplies hooked to the back.

Other times he’s speeding from one end to the other; easy to find, much harder to flag down.

In the event that he isn’t attached to his bike, rest assured that it’s locked up in one of the sheds while he’s finishing up the current bikeless activity. Dragging it to the upper levels is a pain in the ass and impractical besides, so anyone encountering him there will only find him outfitted with jumpsuit, combat boots, a ship-issued phaser - and his trusty toolbelt thing slung around his waist for the extra pocket space. He needs those pockets, okay, he’s got a lot of shit to carry around.]

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[Hatter’s old tea shop no longer has tea on offer, certainly doesn't keep the company it used to, nor do a small assortment of musty couches make for a decent lounge area. But it’s still where Netherlands chooses to take his breaks. Sometimes it’s a break for lunch, or dinner, but the first couple of weeks after the jump it’s mostly a place to go so that he won’t break down in the middle of a row.

If he spends a little too long staring at nothing with a cigarette in-hand, well, whatever. And if he occasionally smokes something a little stronger than a cigarette, well, that does more to get him back to work than staring off into space does.]


KITCHENS

[Delivering produce to the kitchens isn’t his job, but lately the department’s strapped enough that he finds himself face-first in every deck’s pantry once a week or so.

Unfortunately, there are a few very, very good reasons that he’s not the delivery guy. One, his driving skills leave something to be desired and they’re even worse when said vehicle is a hovercart, two, he prefers to stay in the Gardens when he’s on the clock. But the biggest reason of all is because - ]

No one knows how to clean a goddamn kitchen, [he gripes to himself, whether the kitchen’s occupied or not. The words are always a harbinger of an onslaught of wrathful kitchen purification to come.

Maybe it’s rotting lettuce pulled from the back of a refrigeration unit, or a spill on the counter, or smudges on the stove - doesn't matter, every floor but his own will have something for him to find fault with. And gripe about. Colorfully. But he can’t fucking leave a mess like that without it bothering him for the rest of the day, so cleaning and bitching it is.

- delivering produce is a day-long endeavor, when he does it.]