You know the drill. Any input welcome, as long as it's constructive.

Private to Cissie
I'm up.

Private to Rex
From what I'm hearing, it sounds like I got knocked out just in time to avoid the welcome-back party. Fare all right?


OPEN SPAM
[Murphy doesn't make much noise over her frustration at waking up in the infirmary - she works her way out of bed, showers, and gets a bit of warmth back in her limbs in the gym before heading for the cafeteria at dinner time. The changes have her on edge, ready for a fight around every damn corner, so by the time she takes a seat she's ready to put a fork through the eye of anyone who startles her.

And on top of it all, she has a warden. She has a freaking warden.

That's one meeting she's going to put off as long as possible.

So here she is in the cafeteria, poking at her food - more like building a tiny city out of it - and listening to nearby conversations. The more she hears, the less appetite she has. Creepy isn't a problem, really- except for the fact that creepy on the Barge, apparently harmless creepy on the Barge... never seems to stay that way for long.]

[She's sitting cross-legged on the bed with her back against the wall, the gash on her face not quite as pronounced now that she's had a chance to tend to it.]

Hey. Karrin Murphy. I guess some of you will remember me - yeah, I'm back. I need a sparring partner. Or a few.

Preferably a few who don't mind broken bones.

[It doesn't take Murphy long to put two and two together. The change in room setup, for one - no bathroom. Her work room is gone. Her warden item is gone.

There's more than a little righteous-rage-tantrum-related bedroom demolition before she calms down enough to plan. A plan which involves messaging Cissie, text-only.]

Hey. Back. Could use a walk on deck. Meet you outside your room- same one, right?

[And then she's slipping into the hall and striding toward Cissie's last known, a five-foot nothing blond in a wifebeater with a scowl on her face and bruises striping her arms and neck, a healing gash ripped up one side of her face. It takes about five seconds to realize she's gone past Cissie's last known. Right after she left her front door.]

...Great. [She turns back around and stops, steadying her breathing and her temper. She doesn't need to give herself away in the first thirty seconds.]

[A click, a long pause, and then a voice that sounds tired but otherwise collected.]

I'm back. [Silence that goes on for several beats too long, as she tries to find something else to say, before the transmission clicks off.]

[Open Spam]

[Murphy opens her door immediately after making the transmission, despite the fact that at least one of her potential incoming visitors probably (definitely) isn't going to knock. As far as Gabriel's concerned, the door is open for very different reasons.

Her cabin has changed slightly. It's bigger, her entire house laid out inside instead of two rooms. There's a fluffy gray cat slightly smaller than your average Buick sprawled on the couch in her front room. Murphy herself is in the kitchen, hair dragged back into a ponytail. Hair that's now a cheap, punky black. One arm is draped in a sling, and there's a collection of bruises across her bare shoulders and face.

She drops a tea bag into a mug of steaming water and watches the brown murk start to drift from it, feeling weirdly zen despite knowing there are some uncomfortable conversations heading her way. It shows in everything, though particularly in her eyes. Steady, solid, and about as subdued as coals ready to roast a three-pound steak.

It's been a busy couple of months.]

[Private to her incestuous breach pseudofamily, in a voice that says SHE'D BE FINE WITH NOT.]

Are we going to... Talk about all that or what.



[Annnd Private to Gabriel.]

Please tell me your wings don't look like that.

Half of you want to give them the bum's rush and half of you can't wait to waste your scratch on them. Isn't that just like a small town.

Hell, why don't we start our own little freak show. We've enough winos, welchers and crackpots to fill a baker's dozen carnivals.

Samantha, you're stayin' at home if I've got to lock you in your room. Step foot under those tents and I'll know it, girl, and you know I will.



[[OOC: TOWN HARLOT REPRESENT. Murphy (now Estelle Olsen) is Cissie's unwed mother, who got preggo last time the carnival was in town. OOPS. She also tends the bar at the local speakeasy that exists but doesn't really cough cough cough. She might be the town's best source of gossip, but she also knows all of yours. DAMNED HYPOCRITICAL NOGOODNIKS. She hates you all. :C]]

[Warden Filter]

[Her voice is steady, but extremely brusque.]

Greetings to new arrivals. Karrin Murphy. I'd give a better introduction, but at the moment I have more important things to worry about. Primarily, the arrival of the vampire Armand. A past inmate, he has an established, brutal pattern of behavior and went on an eight-person killing spree before vanishing until now.

Needless to say, he's dangerous and extremely arrogant of that fact. He enjoys baiting his targets. Use caution when interacting with him and do not let him get you alone.

[Her jaw gives a little muscle-twitch.] Advise your inmates as you see fit. Just be aware that he enjoys hurting people almost as much as the attention he gets from it.

[Private to McCullen]

A word, please.

[Private to Rex//Voice]

...Given the fact that you have history with Armand-- [A pause, and a muttered 'fuck it'.] Has he approached you? Are you all right?

[Private to the Admiral]

As a temporary measure, I'd like to request that the vampire Armand be fitted with a choke collar that tightens if he attempts to bite someone. At least until he's assigned a warden.