i remember when we were gambling to win ( closed )

[cons]

CHARACTERS: Wichita & Team Jailbait ( party crashing rights to moriarty/sebastian/neal/holmes/blake )
LOCATION: Justin and Brian's space bar.
WARNINGS: ..underage drinking, maybe. oops. talk of character death and the other messed up, hellish things that happen on the ship.
SUMMARY: Wichita's dealing with things the best way she knows how - drinking, and making people drink with her.
NOTES: tag in at your own pace. we can do multiple threads, threadjack, whatever. have at it. :D

[ it's been a week. just about. a whole week since Sherlock Holmes was found dead in a pool and Wichita still feels like absolute shit about it. what's that about? it's one thing, you know, when somebody's on the ship one minute then gone just a few months later, disappearing or never coming back after a jump, but. but Sherlock- it was permanent, wasn't it? and very real. and when someone gets lost on the ship, there's always that chance they'll come back. they'll be exhausted and confused, but they come back. Sherlock wouldn't, not the same as before at least, and it was weighing her down a lot more than she thought it would. then again, she felt this way when they found the painter dead too, and she hardly knew him, hardly.

the fact that she cares is weird. really weird, considering she was literally surrounded by death back in her home world, before she got here, and it was easy to let it all slide over her like driving past roadkill on the road to Pacific Playland.

things change though, right? that's the phrase? things change, people change. she didn't like to think about the changes she's been through since she got on this freaking spaceship, because they all make her feel a lot weaker than she was at home. weaker, vulnerable. someone's dead and she's sad about it, still. a week later.

so she's doing what she always does, albiet a few days too late - she's going to get drunk. properly trashed, because it's easier than dealing with being sad over someone being dead. and maybe that's unhealthy, and stupid, and dangerous when any step she takes on this damn boat could be her last, but she doesn't care. like, at all. which is kind of just as scary as being sad over somebody being dead. so she'll put on a brave face. brave, or sarcastic, uncaring. whatever. she'll put on a face and pretend she's getting drunk just to throw a wrench in the monotony of living here, convince people to join her because that makes it easier to distract herself.

ugh, whatever. where'd that bottle go? and where are her friends.

( f r i e n d s. that's a weird one to think out-loud. let's maybe never use that word again. ) ]

Comments

[dirtyword]

[ Brendan's there, has been there since they walked in together--because Wichita has a lot to think about but so does Brendan. He's always thinking, though, and maybe that's the problem--that and it's been a while since he's had a proper drink. The last one was wasting good scotch when he was still back home, back trying to figure out where Em had gone at Laura's party.

That was a very, very long time ago, so he holds a bottle of wine by the neck, taking swigs of it instead of getting an actual cup. He's got a lot of weight on his shoulders--and the weight of a chess piece in his pocket, of course--and he wants to air both of them out.

But for now?

He's going to get very, very drunk and when he does, he's going to say some very, very interesting things. ]

[cons]

[ Wichita's... honestly kind of surprised Brendan's a drinker. or, well, that he drinks. alcohol dulls things, which she's fine with, but he just doesn't seem the type. not when he's always so concerned with being up on things, aware and ahead of the tide. but, maybe that's why he does drink. anyway, she's done questioning something she's actually kinda grateful for. it'd be pretty awkward if Brendan came here with her and didn't get drunk too. why is she thinking so much about it?

she's already made it halfway through her rocks glass of scotch ( at least she thinks it's scotch, the labels on these things are faded and some aren't even in English ), which isn't her usual but that's probably why she's drinking it. ]

I still can't believe you took that girl's chess piece. Of all the random crap. [ she's kinda laughing though, shaking her head ] What could you possibly get out of that?

[dirtyword]

Information. [ Brendan's long fingers are curling around the neck of the wine bottle, moving it, spinning it around slowly. Like the dead grape juice'll give him some kind of answer to why they're on the ship, if Arthur's really crazy, and why there are a bunch of people with his face that seem older and far more experienced than anything.

And then there's Wichita. Wichita, the doll with the big eyes and a bigger personality, the brunette who hides behind a wall as big, if not bigger, than Brendan's.

What can he say? He's always had a soft spot for girls. His mind is wandering from the original question, though, and instead he looks up at Wichita, gaze serious. A little too serious. ]

Pass me the scotch.

[heltersskelter]

This party could use more Pixies.

[Tate sneaks up on Brendan because he can, and because he wants to see how the little detective is going to react. his voice comes close to Brendan's ear, on his left, before he slides (like a snake) into the seat next to him.]

[dirtyword]

[ He knows someone's there--Brendan's fucking keen, he can tell when people are behind him. It comes from years and years of scraps and fights, of being the scrawny underdog to people like Brad Bramish, the football star.

It's that he can't tell who that bothers him, that makes him move around. It's so quick he thinks for a moment he's going to smack the blonde in the face with his own jaw, but he's not only eye-level but it's someone else his age.

The other speaks and Brendan offers a nod--it's not really a nod to the words, though. It's a light you're good. you're very good and it's directed at the other's stealth. He makes a mental note--the kid from before (it has to be him, because of the Pixies--is quite adept at moving unnoticed. ]

At least it's still stuff from when I'm from. [ and 'when' sounds weird, so, so weird. But it's out there anyway, and before Tate can protest Brendan is pouring him a drink ]

Party crashing rights, you say?

[sebasher]

[Does Sebastian Moran care that Sherlock Holmes is dead? Hardly. He's more than a bit peeved, really. Moriarty could have passed the job off on him rather than doing it himself. Moran is certain he could have done a far cleaner, far superior job. But instead, all he got from Moriarty was a piece of information he almost wishes he didn't have and the orders to keep an eye on a Wichita and a Neal. He hasn't quite worked out who either of them are.

How is it that he got roped into working for a twitchy Irishman anyway? Personal priorities, he supposes. Jim Moriarty shares the Professor's name and ideas and that dreadful cobra neck thing, but the similarities don't seem to extend beyond that. He takes the man's orders anyway, though. Feels it's his duty somehow, feels like he's chained to it. It's sickening.

A stiff drink is exactly what he needs, so yes, this suspicious gentleman is uninvited and slighly out of place in his 1880s get-up and muttonchops. But he's here anyway, crashing your party and casually eavesdropping on all your conversations. Especially that second bit.]

i do say!!

[cons]

[ oh right, the bar hasn't turned into her own private party, right. she still has to serve drinks. make small talk. keep track of what tunes are being cranked from the iPod set up in there. whatever, though, it's fine. easy stuff! so when an unfamiliar face makes its way in, she doesn't stress it, just tucks her glass under the bar and moves over to address him. nooo sweat. ]

Whacennahgety?

[ … take two ]

What can I get you?

well GOOD. you're on his radar, Wichita. Regards from Moriarty.

[sebasher]

[Moran is visibly annoyed by the entire atmosphere, from the music (it's still better than sitting through an opera) to the young kids who look entirely too sad for a group who are busy consuming alcohol straight from the bottle. Youth of today is so disappointing.]

Whiskey. [There's a brief, thoughtful pause. The bartender doesn't look like she's too capable either. He feels the need to elaborate, just in case.] And make sure it isn't watered down, will you, dollie? I'd like alcohol, not water with a minor kick.

[showbizpanache]

[Kurt had managed to dig out the least alcoholic, least caloric drink available, and is sipping at it delicately as he sits alone at the bar. He thinks that maybe this isn't a good idea-- He misses Blaine so terribly it hurts underneath his skin, like something is scratching there relentlessly and he can't do anything about it. Now missing Justin is layered on top of that, and suddenly he starts reconsidering his choice of drink.]

[cons]

[ wow, what. sitting alone. this isn't an option, nope, sorry Kurt. which is why Wichita is sliding out from behind the bar, just to end up right next to him on one of the bar stools. ..and then she reaches for the glass she left behind in all that circling and no, there's no reason she had to switch which side of the bar she was on, but, well- ]

You are drinking what we use for the tonic half of a gin and tonic, do you realize that? [ her nose is scrunched, like she can't even fathom it ] Isn't it... bland? Seriously, we've got- Um. "Pepsi"..ish. I've been calling it Pepsi, but I know it's not. Since it's space-Pepsi, but. Pepspi. Spepsey. Spacey. Ehh. Spacey just reminds me of Kevin Spacey, and have you ever seen American Beauty? ... [ sssssip of her drink ] It's awful. [ ... gesture ] Like that tonic.

/threadjacks

[dirtyword]

[ And Brendan's arm drops around Wichita's shoulders unceremoniously, just a plop as he leans in, a completely uncharacteristic smile on his face. ]

I have no idea what American Beauty is but I'm willing to bet it's a horse. [ And yeah, maybe he's drinking a little too quickly which is why he's a little lose--

--but either way he has a tumbler of some very strong, very rich alcohol in the hand he moved around the brunette and he points his finger from it. ]

Hey. I shouldn't have told you the truth, kid. Blaine was your boy. [ ....He's trying, at least, but with his other, freer hand slams a crystal-like decanter down right in front of Kurt. ]

Get some sauce in you.

[theyalldieforme]

[John showed up a little late, and slips next to Kurt. He has a beer in hand, because well, he feels like for once maybe he should just act like he knows what he's doing]

Hey.

[showbizpanache]

Hey.

[He gives John a little smile. It's nice to see the other boy out and about.] Fancy seeing you here.

[heltersskelter]

[Tate doesn't speak to very many of the younger boys on the ship. but he's never found kinship in any of them, not even when he was alive.

it's no different up here. he doesn't really care.

but he is curious, and there's something just so easy about Kurt. which is probably why he wanders his direction, eventually, and leans against the bar without sitting down.]

Hey.

[showbizpanache]

[Oh, it's that strange boy again. The one who seems to appear and disappear so quickly. Kurt blinks up at him.]

Hello. How are you?

this party needs more crashing.

[learnedtosmile]

[Someone else might be annoyed with patrol duty. Someone who was more used to chasing bad guys, or who liked shooting people more, might find it frustrating.

Blake, though, Blake almost finds it... comforting. Aside from the fact that he's... on a space ship, he's basically back to being a beat cop for the moment. He was good at being a beat cop. And frankly, beat cops usually have the most up-to-date information. They're the first guys on the scene, the first ones on hand to get a look around.

Being a beat cop? Not such a bad gig. Things could be much, much worse. He knows.

So when he strolls past the - well, must be the ship's pub. Do space ships have bars? Apparently this one does - he hears some rowdiness going on, and he stops in to check on things. Breaking up a bar fight, he can (maybe) manage it, depending on who's fighting. If there's magic involved, though, he's calling for backup.

When he spots the - well, technically, most of them are probably underage, but also technically, there doesn't seem to be any drinking laws on this ship - the kids, being drunk, he just sighs and prepares to be the responsible, sober adult. And possibly the designated... walker back to cabins, if necessary.]

hottie cop!!

[cons]

[ Wichita doesn't have fuzz radar, she can't tell the difference between an off-duty cop and a dictionary salesman, but there's something about this guy, as soon as he walks in, there's just something about the way he's carrying himself, or maybe it's just the light, the timing, the- ]

Ohholyshit.

[ or the fact that he looks exactly like Brendan circa... 10 years in the future. welll, maybe not ten. no. well? she can't figure it out. she's awful at ages, she's really just terrible at it, so maybe she just needs to get a closer look, right, yes that'll help. she's walking away to meet him at the door before Brendan anyone can stop her, hands on her hips and the faont aroma of scotch on her breath and oh holy lord someone stop her. ]

Hi, I don't think we've met. [ holding out a hand for him! ] I'm Wichita.

[heltersskelter]

[he doesn't fit the description of anyone else in the party and that's why he draws Tate's attention. he watches Wichita greet him, watches Brendan intervene. it's another one of those face twin things, they look uncannily similar, though there's something darker that hangs around Brick, even though he's younger.

the guy's probably here to send them back to their rooms.

Tate just crosses his ankles and leans against the stage and nurses a beer and watches it play out. he really doubts, though, that he'll be able to pull one over on Wichita. she's a handful.]

[ripstides]

[ guess who's messing with the SOUND SYSTEM? he waves as he walks in but Wichita's with someone else for the moment talking and it's pretty quiet in here, so he decides to look around. looking around turns into touching. (you break it, you buy it.) but nobody's exactly around to tell him that while he hits the power button on what's obviously a sound system. all these wires- a disc tray. huh. easy enough.

except.. he's turning incredulous eyes in Wichita's direction to ask without words: what in Zeus's name do you listen to? as if it's at all her fault.

uh. well, maybe, there's something better. he's going to be over here trying to find the skip track button, if you all don't mind. and hopefully, he doesn't break it while he's being embarrassed by the words. ]

[cons]

[ it takes Wichita a while to notice he's poking at buttons, but once she does she strides right on over to him, pretending to try and slap his hands away from the thing without actually slapping them. ]

Hey, hey, hey, no touching. I don't know how to- do any of this, so. If you break it, you buy it. Or whatever.

[heltersskelter]

[Tate slips in quietly without responding to the broadcast, and his hands find his pockets as he scans the room. if nothing else, it's an opportunity to see who Wichita associates with, because despite how he keeps tabs on people, he doesn't have the skills that some of the people around here seem to have.

he's never been much of an information gatherer; most of what he does comes on impulse.

there is a pull, though, a certain few that he's more keen on spotting. when he finds them in the crowd, his attention turns to Wichita and he wanders her direction and for something to drink.]

So how badly do I need to catch up? [he grins, peering at her as if to gauge how drunk she is already.]

[cons]

Pretty badly, mhm, your sobriety. is. completely unacceptable.

[ note to Tate: never ask Wichita how badly you need to catch up on drinking because she'll always insist he must. on a scale of one to really freaking drunk, she's rosey-cheeked and slurring a bit, not quite unrecognizable, but her syllables are starting to string together in a way they normally don't. she's leaning on the bar because it's easier than staying upright on her own, and there are four different bottles of booze sitting on the bartop already because it's easier than reaching underneath and trying to make sense of the different bottles in the dark.

she does however have enough coordination to grab three shot glasses from under the bar, clunking them down on the surface between them, slides two his way. ]

This is how you catch up - for every one I take, you take two. ..Wait. [ she looks sideways for a minute, then slides the third into the other two ] You should just take three shots. Since I already drank -more than one. Would you like space vodka or spicewisky? ..Space whiskey.

[entrapments]

[ Hayley doesn't drink because she doesn't take chances. but that doesn't mean she's above hanging out with her inebriated peers. maybe it takes the edge off- living out to expectation or something. they're kids with no one to bustle around after them, and hell, of those that'd gone into that stupid fucking maze- at least half of them-

well.

she lifts the glass to her mouth, sipping coke from a straw and watching people drift around the bar. let's just say they weren't sweet valley high. ]

[heltersskelter]

Boo.

[he says it in a breath, a rush at her ear because he's suddenly there and then he's hopping over the couch to sit down next to her. miraculously without spilling a drop of whatever he's drinking (Wichita mixed it and he stopped asking questions because how long has it been since he's done this?)]

Didn't think you were gonna show up.

[cons]

[ ooOoOOoOoOoo

Wichita is just gonna watch them from over here.

well, she's not watching them. she's just waiting til they're done before she heads over to talk to Hayley. ]