Oh, bloody wonderful. His idiot brother had managed to scurry off somewhere… just what he, and the rest of the colony needed: A hypochondriac conspiracy theorist on the loose without supervision. If it wasn’t bad enough that Arcturus had to listen to his brother bitch and moan for the near entirety of this trip here, the other, equally unfortunate souls of Libertas One were going to learn how… opinionated and outspoken that Schedar could be. The mental image of his brother tied kicking and screaming to a tree by the captain’s hand quickly came to mind, and as amusing as it may have been… it would just be better if that situation was miraculously avoided somehow. The chances of that happening were… astronomically small, and he knew it.
Setting his bag down, it was clear that the dark haired man had packed rather lightly for this trip to the unknown. His bag had nothing a weeks worth of clothing and some toiletries. This was a literal fresh start, and none of the “comforts” of home would have done him any good here. Oh, how he pitied whomever thought bringing an electric razor was a bright idea. He pitied them like he pitied the committee for picking his brother for the job of being on the research team. Sure, they needed a meteorologist… but couldn’t they have picked a - not to be cruel -but a
good one? Why had they picked Schedar? Arcturus’ younger sibling was skilled in his field but… knowing what he’s talking about didn’t necessarily mean he was good at the
other aspects of this endeavor. It would have been better for
everyone if they had picked someone that was less likely to assume that everyone else was going to screw the entire operation up, and was more likely to be a team player. That… didn’t happen, and as such, the only thing the biologist saw for the weekly forecast was blood raining from the fights that his brother would no doubt end up starting amongst their colleagues.
Oh, such joy that the stars had blessed mid-thirties man with… not. This was going to be complete and utter hell until they were settled in and it was shown to be safe. Even then, Arcturus doubted that there would be much silence from the mouth that didn’t know when to stop. Now that he’d dropped his bag off at the campsite, it was time to go and hunt down his stupid brother… after meeting with the rest of the group, of course. Just because Schedar would neglect his duties for his OCD didn’t mean that Arcturus would. He’d just untie the moron from the alien redwood after the meeting, if that’s what it came down to.
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Arriving just in time to hear Dameon’s rather… redundant announcement that this was the research group, along with a question that essentially opened the door for any and all sorts of things, Arcturus kept quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. He was confident that he hadn’t missed too much important, because given what the head of research just said, there was absolutely no way they had covered any worthwhile topics. “Bright ideas?” He spoke up. “To start, we should create some sort of schedule for the week to come. It’s going to be the most trying on all of us both physically and mentally. Perhaps start said schedule with an 'official' meeting after we‘re all settled, and we can move forwards from there. I don't believe we're going to be able to corral everyone here today, seeing that we've just arrived and the minds of many others are no doubt elsewhere at the moment.”
Yes, Arcturus was fully aware he just suggesting the most obvious plan of action possible. But if Daemeon was asking for ideas… then he'd get one. It wasn't groundbreaking, but the man hadn't asked for a new way to create rocket fuel. He asked for a good idea.
Arcturus delivered.
(( Arcturus! -->
Here! <-- MANY thanks to Taph for drawing it! <3))
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Well, wasn’t that nice? They’d set out all the supplies for them to get the tent together. Sliding his pack down and resting it on the ground with more care than Bennet, but less than Qismat, Driscoll rubbed his hands together rather anxiously, an eager smile plastered itself onto his face. “Any of you boys ever put up a tent before?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow and looking over the trio. Somehow, he doubted that Qismat had ever slept outside a day in his life… Bennett and Shaun? They were more likely candidates.
Regardless of the experience the other three may or may not have had, the older man quickly got busy unwrapping the tent, its stakes and poles from their confines. This was a bit of a larger one than he was used to, but a tent was a tent in the end. They all ended up getting erected the same way. “Ladies man, catch!” Driscoll said to Bennett, tossing the bag containing the hammer and pegs his way. He had made sure to get the excess supplies away from the tarp so that he could spread the material out along the ground. “You two,” he addressed Qismat and Shaun. “Start prepping to get this off the ground, and I’ll be right with you as soon as I’m done here… faster we learn to work together, the better we’re going to be doing when the
real work starts!” Oh yes. The real work. The back-breaking physical labor that would separate the men from the boys.
That was what he couldn’t wait for.
“As for you, ladies man, you’re going to hammer those in when me and the boys are done getting this monster up,” and no, he hadn’t saved the most irritating job for Bennett on purpose. Karma was just a bitch like that. It was in Driscoll’s character to take the lead in a situation like this, hopefully that was something that wouldn’t grind against his new bunkmates too much. After all, he was a fairly pleasant and reasonable man… except when it came to sleeping in, or sleeping
on the job. He was less than reasonable when it came to that, and hardly pleasant if there was even a
hint of laziness.
Keep active, keep healthy. That was his motto.
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Project Second Terra, It's the end of the world.
