dogbane: (shadow)
william tsang ([personal profile] dogbane) wrote in [community profile] ataraxionlogs2014-11-04 12:43 am

08. Take a look around baby, yeah my whole crew's ugly

CHARACTERS: Sirius Black, William Tsang, Sally Malik, Charles Xavier, and others TBD
LOCATION: Level 4 Lounge
WARNINGS: PG-13 for terrible language, inane violence, etc.
SUMMARY: After the lights come back on, a mild-mannered wizard is going for a quiet drink in the lounge when a medical doctor goes apeshit on him. The punchline apparently involves mutants and ghosts.
NOTES: Now also includes William in the brig.


The fourth floor lounge is one that William has almost actively avoided before. Four is an unlucky number, and he lets superstition get away with him more often these days than he did before. One of the many odd and unusual developments, post-reconnaissance, that he does not dwell on. Still, eventually, dwelling in familiar territory gets old; even for William Tsang, who prefers to be afraid of anything new, anything too old, and most of the grey shades in between.

The whisky bottle is slimy with cold condensation in his fingers. He is already fostering a mild but novel hangover headache.

The Chief Medical Officer is off-duty when he stumps into the lounge, too drunk to care for grace or a collected air, but far from off-balance, something pleasantly dead-eyed about the stare he sweeps through. He squints at the cracked mirrors, the chic luster of carpet and the glitzy vertebrate of stairs leading up to the empty stage. Each of the passenger levels' drinking establishments have a slightly different aesthetic and layout, but there is a remarkable sameness about everything, generally. Not much to be afraid of at all. He swivels his sights to the bar.
doggedly: (pic#3067480)

[personal profile] doggedly 2014-11-04 05:14 pm (UTC)(link)
Behind the bar, Sirius scans the bottles that are left to him. Space liquor is generally terrible, but if you drink enough of it, you can pretend that taste becomes significantly less important--and, eventually, like a self-fulfilling prophecy, taste indeed becomes less important, as tastebuds wither away under the onslaught.

The fact that someone else wanders in does not go unnoticed. Sirius glances over his shoulder, dismisses the newcomer, and goes back to scanning bottles. If the light were a little better, and William a little closer, he might recognise him from the network. If he recognised him from the network, he might make the connection: CMO. The CMO, brain-damaged madman who is not, as it turns out, dead from the shame of fancying Snivellus.

But even if he did recognise William (which he doesn't), Sirius would still have no earthly idea as to what he could possibly want. Retribution for what he has probably done to Snape will come. He's not stupid. It might even make it along to Tyke. Hell, Edgeworth himself would probably tell Tyke. But it's not something he's thinking about. There's no guilt haunting his steps, keeping him up at night. Nothing at all has changed, really, except he's perhaps done Snape some bodily injury. So fucking what.

Finally, Sirius selects a bottle of some greenish liquor and grabs for a glass. Good enough for now. He'll have to go up to one of the upper levels and raid for a restock. Unpredictable lifts don't stop him, not when he can just Apparate away.

"It's all yours, mate," he tells William, still without really looking properly at him. Bottle and glass on the bartop, he plants one hand beside them and vaults over to the other side. Dusts off his shoulder as he lands, neatly, totally cool and coordinated (like always). "Fairly picked over, but beggars, choosers, y'know."
doggedly: (pic#3067153)

[personal profile] doggedly 2014-11-05 03:10 pm (UTC)(link)
Wizards, as a whole, don't much go in for physical violence. Why would they, when they've a whole arsenal of spells and hexes and jinxes to injure and otherwise incapacitate any opponent that would go up against them? Sirius does better than most. Between his training with SEC and his own keen interest in being able to punch someone really hard as they're going for their wand in a duel, he at least has some basics. Good reflexes are less of a learned thing but Sirius--with his natural easy grace coupled with a few years of quidditch under his belt--both afford him some small advantage there.

And yet none of that prepares him for some relative stranger chucking a bottle at the back of his head and then taking him at a run.

So it goes like this: some extra little instinct has Sirius turn, and catch sight of the throw. Not quick enough to dodge, completely, but quick enough that he manages maybe half a sidestep and avoids the total brunt of the impact. Not that it really helps. The bottle breaks anyways; glass in his hair, and then William is right there, and Sirius struggles to shove him off but, again, not quick enough. The impact of his forehead is dizzying, compounding the dizzy feeling of the broken bottle. There's glass underfoot. It crunches under his boots as he stumbles back away from William, his hand going for his wand. See, he's a wizard after all, and he draws on him as he falls back against the stools at the bar, toppling one over and gripping at the one right behind it, keeping himself upright.

"Bloody," he manages, and it's appropriate because he is bloody, just a little, "What the fuck," and that doesn't near get at the astonished confusion he feels at the assault, but it's close enough for now. He doesn't try for a jinx or anything, though perhaps he should. And yet attacking muggles is still out of the question, even if he's in space, where half the people have magic but call it something different, and where, apparently, certain muggles just chuck bottles at him and rammed into him like a mad erumpent. "What is wrong with you?"

They're still rather close. The tension in Sirius' arm, the way he holds his wand out between them, trained on William--attacking muggles is off-limits, but defence, that's different.
doggedly: (pic#3067244)

perfect.

[personal profile] doggedly 2014-11-06 04:36 am (UTC)(link)
"Fight you over what, you're," he starts, and then, finishes, "Shi-it," because--

Something is happening.

It's like a swelling solution and an engorgement charm all at once--not fat but big, and getting bigger, getting significantly bigger all at once. As William stretches taller, he manages to do a thing that hardly anyone manages for any real amount of time, and that's shut Sirius up, because what in Merlin's name is actually going on here.

Instinct lets him react even as he's staring. His wand flicks up as the chair comes at him--a careless little movement with its own heft of power, and the chair slams against the wall opposite, breaks on impact--Sirius already has his wand up again, ready for whatever comes next, and he has no idea what that's going to be, more chairs or hands swelling larger or bottles or shouting--

You know what, he decides, swiftly, fuck that, and cuts his wand through the air. Two of the nearby tables slide sharply over, between him and William--a crap barricade, eight foot tall and he'll crash right through it, but it buys Sirius time to back up and get out his next spell--

"Incarcerous!"

Ropes whip up out of nowhere, flying to bind William's arms. They look so bloody thin, like bits of twine--he's too fucking big--

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darkart: ( commission, dnt ) (if i could attack with)

somewhere in the vicinity of 6 hours

[personal profile] darkart 2014-11-07 03:18 am (UTC)(link)
It does not take Severus long to hear about what's happened: Charles exists. For a few hours he's sure he won't go down there at all, because he's not sure he has the self control to avoid making a scene. Not only that, he's not sure who he'd be making a scene about - on the one hand, William is probably the biggest idiot barring Black himself on board, holy fucking Merlin, on the other hand, Edgeworth's post about how no one in SEC is ever in trouble even if they nearly kill people shut up shut up can't hear you Sirius Black is a precious angel post is there, which is both embarrassing and annoying.

Finally, he shows up. (If anyone from SEC is there to ask, his mild-voiced explanation is that he wants to know what in the bleeding hell Tsang's malfunction is.) Severus takes a seat across from William's cell.

And waits.
darkart: ( commission, dnt ) (i'll show you what it feels)

[personal profile] darkart 2014-11-07 04:37 am (UTC)(link)
That particular declaration settles an idle thought Severus has had on and off. Without saying anything, he lifts one hand to extend an index finger and draws an intricate, invisible figure in the air. William might feel something barely-there crackle across his face, or it might be too faint to be noticed through the haze of violent dehydration and electrolyte imbalance.

Enjoy not being able to cram anything alcoholic into your orifices. Until the spell wears off or another witch or wizard cracks it. Not that Severus has any idea how long it'll take to wear off.

(Or if it will.)
Edited (a word) 2014-11-07 04:58 (UTC)

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fullmoon: (pic#7778602)

12ish

[personal profile] fullmoon 2014-11-07 04:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ Remus brings a small apple, but not for William—firstly because he has no idea William might be hungry, at the moment, and secondly because if he did know he wouldn't particularly care. He brings it because he's hungry, as always, and because it gives him something to fidget with other than his wand. Something a little kinder than a hex to throw at William's face if this goes poorly.

It probably won't go that poorly.

It probably won't go well, either.

His wand is still in easy reach, anyway, poking out of his back pocket when he stops and stands outside of William's cell, with one arm folded over his chest and the other elbow propped on top of it to hold the apple up near his shoulder. He doesn't look angry. He doesn't even look annoyed. If anything is leaking through the cracks in his mild-mannered shield, at the moment, it's perplexity. ]


Did you break a bottle on Sirius Black's head?

[ Before William can pin any hopes on the apple—or before any hopes he's already pinning can get too solid—Remus takes a bite. It's crisp enough to pop. ]
fullmoon: (Default)

[personal profile] fullmoon 2014-11-07 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
[ Remus crunches his way impassively through William's request, swallows, and considers his apple and its lone, neat missing bite.

He's a very compassionate werewolf. He likes children and underdogs and tries not to kill spiders, and William's hopeful eyes and charming nose do tug somewhere in the approximate region of his heartstrings. Not very hard, is all. He's a very compassionate werewolf with a body count that nearly matches his age, who would have killed Sirius with his bare hands if no one had intervened, and who will someday choose not to murder an old friend who's begging for his life only because a thirteen-year-old boy steps up and asks him not to.

There won't be any attempts on William's life today. There also probably won't be any fucking apples. But he smiles, a little. Maybe. ]


You can have whatever's left after you've said your reasonable shit.

[ He doesn't take another bite straight away—the apple is, like I said, small, and he doesn't want to eat the whole incentive before it's had a chance to incentivise—but he doesn't drop his arm to move it a comforting distance away from his mouth, either.

He does know the answer to that question. He also knows the answer to this one: ]


Were you, at any point, over seven feet tall?

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sweetmotherofgod: (I can be up for that)

5 hours!

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2014-11-07 07:36 am (UTC)(link)
[It's kind of exciting, really. Despite a stretch of incredibly bad choices following her father's death and her subsequent exit from Silent Hill, Heather has never been in a barfight.

It's a good thing she has someone around whose bad choices she can live through vicariously, then.

She walks quietly. Hears the comment, leans on a nearby wall and crosses her arms.]


I expected better from you,

[she says, managing to sound frosty and entertained at the same time. Perhaps she retains some strange powers after all.]

People with magic vaginas don't always have a say in it. It's tacky as hell to use them to cuss.
sweetmotherofgod: (let's pretend I blew up the school)

[personal profile] sweetmotherofgod 2014-11-08 09:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Pause while she tries to find a way to twist am if you build it, they will come joke out of this. Fortunately for all parties involved, she fails, and moves on.]

Am I? Shit. I was trying to hold out. Play it cool, you know? Let you stew a little so you could appreciate how fucking mad I am about this.

[Frown.]

How are you bored? You're hung over. Don't argue, I know you are 'cause you look like shit. You should be trying to sleep it off. Doesn't matter if you're here or in your room, right?

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forgodssake: (#8414269)

dibs on 8.

[personal profile] forgodssake 2014-11-07 11:16 am (UTC)(link)
[ It won't be the first time Charles has swung by while William is behind bars, but by now, perhaps he might be sober enough to recall. He himself has had a cat nap and is returning. His clothes are different. He is bearing gifts.

Gifts in the form of some painkiller tablets, for all that he isn't sure if William's type even gets hangovers and if they do, then maybe a simple dose of aspirin won't cut it. Oh well, thought that counts. Personally, Charles is on an upswing. Tidier hair, if not as tidy as it was before he suddenly backslid into dirty hippie territory for a while back there. He's awake, sober, sympathetic.

And he's never been on the wrong side of the brig.

The cup of water he's brought with him is knocked tinnily against a bar to announce his arrival. ]
forgodssake: (#8272718)

[personal profile] forgodssake 2014-11-08 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
[ They are gifts, freely given, and Charles goes about transferring them via food depository. He's the patron saint of hangovers, just ask anyone. ]

Alright?

[ This done, Charles waits, hands on hips, for William to finish and give him back the cup. No rush, though. ]

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pushfall: (⚕ who are we to be emotional)

around 10 hours. the most popular prisoner ever!!!

[personal profile] pushfall 2014-11-08 04:44 pm (UTC)(link)
Claire waits until she's sure that no one else is down to see William, that all interested parties are elsewhere and she doesn't run the risk of running into anyone, friendly or otherwise. She's never been down to the brig before and consequently finds it somewhat intimidating for what it is, though thinking of it as a drunk tank for the time being makes this less like an episode out of space horror reality. The truth of it is, William is down here for a good reason. Taking a bottle to the back of someone's head isn't an activity that should be applauded in any sense of the word.

Still, Claire comes down with her jumpsuit and boots, electing not to travel under the guise of walking a dog or anything like that. Her steps are purposeful, and the only thing that she carries with her other than the nanite tattoo resting in stark contrast to the pale exposure of the skin covering her forearm is a water bottle large enough that her fingers don't wrap all the way around it and, in the other hand, a sandwich. Plastic crackles in her fingers long before she reaches the threshold of William's holding cell, so maybe he hears her coming, and maybe he's too hungover to notice or care, but when she arrives she taps on one of the bars with the business end of the bottle.

It's true: of course, you should never celebrate a bar brawl or any sort of encounter in which someone could have been seriously injured or killed, no matter who they are. But maybe you should show respect where it's due, and acknowledge that someone did something terrible and now you don't have to.

"Well, it's not a greasy hamburger and fries, but they say the only real cure for a hangover is time anyway."
Edited (i changed my mind now it's 10 fight me) 2014-11-08 16:45 (UTC)
pushfall: (⚕ the weakness in giving in)

[personal profile] pushfall 2014-11-09 04:29 pm (UTC)(link)
"The horror," Claire responds immediately, trying her hardest not to smile. She moves over to the slot in which a tray would surely fit through and juggles the objects in her hands to allow them to slip through one at a time. The bottle fits just fine on its side and the sandwich, cloaked in a stretch of thin plastic, goes through without any difficulty whatsoever. If William's breath stinks, Claire can't tell, and she only lingers so close to the bars for as long as it takes William to snatch up the food before she moves back again, which, given how quickly he had scrabbled up from the cot, sees her back to her original position quickly enough.

She moves to cram her hands into her pockets and remembers halfway through that she's not wearing jeans. Her palms and fingers smooth down the material on her hips as a result and she searches her brain for what she came down here to say, coming up with, "It's definitely not my best sandwich but I figure it's probably better than brig food. I imagined brig food was like some gruel mixture and a piece of stale bread, but then I remembered this isn't the sixteen hundreds."

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regulatingpressure: (❝ they gonna float me for looking? ❞)

11 or so hours idk

[personal profile] regulatingpressure 2014-11-12 01:59 am (UTC)(link)
[ raven rolls in pretty late in the game, having spent the first half of the day waist-deep and head-first in a questionable shuttle with an armful of tools and no real way to know that something went down or where or when.

but she absolutely heard once she finished, so here she is, casually beelining for the cell with the guy mashing his face through the front.
]

Heeey, [ she greets, her mouth quirking in a suppressed half-grin, because after living on the ark where any and all crime's a death sentence, spending a little time in a cage is pretty much just public embarrassment as far as she's concerned. not at all something to be any kind of upset about.

then she sinks down crosslegged in front of him, her knees barely brushing the bars of his cell.
]

Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to refrain from any kind of declarations of love, [ she says as she reaches into the pocket on the inside of her coat and starts pulling out snacks, crackers and then some kind of space-fruit and then what looks like jerky. each of these are funneled in through the bars one by one. ] I just don't look at you that way, I'm sorry. [ and she's pulling something out of the opposite pocket now, what is that - it looks like a bag of mush?? off-white with yellow mixed in. but now she's pulling a fork out too, and he might recognize them as scrambled eggs. cheesy scrambled eggs.

on a much less teasing note:
] Do they give you water? I brought some of that, if you need it.
regulatingpressure: (❝ used to get picked first for everythin)

[personal profile] regulatingpressure 2014-11-19 12:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[ actually, only one brigged miscreant has ever gotten raven's nosh delivery service pre-william, but she doesn't bother correcting him. instead, she's grinning a dry grin as he makes his not-joke joke. ]

Dropped planetside in a half-built shuttle for a guy, if that counts. [ but she absolutely weighed the cost-benefit of that one. it wasn't even a close race. ]