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[A little contemptuous, mostly casual.]

While we're not all being helpful little worker bees, pool table's still free. Anyone up for a game?

[Neither Dillon has been able to play in years - once his aura got too strong, every shot rebounded into perfect endgames. It's a good way to gauge just how effective the admiral's control is. And how much people here know about him, about what he can do.]


[Work crew spam - assign yourself to his team if you want, or just swing by and taunt/gossip with him, whatever it's all good]

[Dillon is as good as Bush's word. He keeps his arrogance and his bitterness more or less under control, and the actual tasks of construction are soothing. After his time rebuilding the war torn swathe he cut through the Northwest under his parasite's influence, he knows his way around pretty much every aspect of the job.]


[creep spam]

[The rest of the time, he watches people. On the deck, in the common rooms, in the cafeteria. He sits somewhere just a little out of the way, occasionally with a sketchpad, and just watches everyone come and go, expression smooth and shuttered. The only time he really looks natural is when he's in the eighth floor common room, curled up against the trunk of the fractal tree. It feels like him. Like his power, like being properly alive, and he can't quite stay away.]

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Dillon Cole || Scorpion Shard

March 2025

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