( can you feeeeeel the loooove tonight )

[tectus]

CHARACTERS: Octavia Blake and the dating crew
LOCATION: A BAR ON A...FLOOR idk
WARNINGS: probably a hell of a lot of grumpiness lbr there's only like one volunteer
SUMMARY: Speed dating, basically, with more duplicity
NOTES: Mingle log kids, go nuts. Use the headers or create your own or do what you like


[ so octavia has totally repurposed the bar for a round of speed dating, or at least as close as she can manage given that she a) did this last minute and b) doesn't know what speed dating is. still, it's not a hard concept, and there's name badges on a table and a hell of a lot of booze already up on the bartop.

there's some music playing in the background, but given that she's hardly an expert it's just as likely to be really out of place as it is romantic. feel free to use that as a talking point. there's coffee too because she doesn't really know how to cook, and a bunch of ready to eat stuff scavenged from the kitchen nearest the bar. all in all, it's...pretty budget-- BUT SHE TRIED

People volunteering their friends will obviously be told the truth about the nature of the evening, but anyone not friends with Octavia can opt to have received an anon message stating something like " MEET + GREET ON THE xTH FLOOR BAR, PLEASE BRING YOURSELF AND ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR APPROPRIATE ATMOSPHERE. THANKS "

although if you'd prefer their volunteer tricks them into arriving, that is of course also an option. ]

Comments

[lostsoldier]

[ When you corner and interrogate a guy naked, cold, and half covered in goo after he's just tumbled out of the worst jello bath of his life for what turns out to be no reason at all (or no reason anybody can figure out), it might seem like an apology is in order. An acknowledgement. Anything.

Instead, Blake gets a soft whrrr of metal pulling the soldier up onto the bar stool, and not a word. He's got clothes on this time, a long-sleeved black thermal and grey cargo pants he'd pulled out of one of those standard-issue clothing bins, but it doesn't fit half bad and he knows it. Aside from the clothes, he looks kind of shit, a few weeks' worth of dark circles under his eyes, but there's a rough sort of warmth to his presence all the same. Being around people again is good. Being around people who aren't Laurens is good. He came here to prod Anderson and Kate out into the fray, but he doesn't mind the company so much himself either. ]

R. John Blake, huh? [ he starts eventually, eyes sliding to Blake over the lift of his drink to his lips. He doesn't glance to his comm, to the match message that'd rolled in not so long go, but then, he doesn't figure he needs to. ] What's the R for?

[oversight]

[ You know, it takes a whole lot of balls to just slide on up into a seat and pretend like it's share-and-care time with the guy you (nakedly) harassed post pod-coma. Admittedly, Blake's impressed the guy — Davis is what he'd called himself before — can even fit on the stool.

Curling his fingers around his drink, John turns enough that he can lean an elbow on the bar and unabashedly eye his new neighbor. The guy looks tired and half as intense as the last time they'd squared off. Nevertheless, and despite the atmosphere, John provides little mercy to start. ]

Recalcitrant.

[ He's actually glad Dean didn't bother listing his first name when the hunter went about putting in that dating profile. Sure, he might have preferred it left off completely, but at least he still has some control over its appearance in relation to him. ]

Does Jay stand for jackass?

[ Blake very purposefully quirks an eyebrow at the other man and follows it up with a sip of whatever it is he's drinking this evening. ]

[lostsoldier]

[ Touché. The soldier's eyebrows bob as if seriously considering that possibility, the slightest shark points of a grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he finishes off another sip of space whiskey. Jackass is right. He knew he'd liked you for a reason, Blake. ]

James, actually, [ he answers eventually, thoughtless — that's literally what Kate is shortening, isn't it? — and in the next beat, pauses. And a choir of angels sings from the heavens. Anyway. ] Guess you're really not a telepath.

[ Or he'd have known that already, right? Ha. Ha. The look on his face is as much badly-disguised chagrin as humor, though, which. Is kind of like an apology? ]

[oversight]

[ That's nothing like an apology, thank you very much. But Blake doesn't miss that feels genuine, even if he knows genuine can be faked. ]

What a surprise.

[ He says as much flatly, his mouth settling into a thin line. Coming out of that pod to unfriendly questions had set him down a struggling path he hasn't forgotten. It wasn't the worst day he'd experienced since coming here, but damn close. ]

Davis is...?

[ —last name, first name, not part of the deal at all? Blake could have probably found out for himself at some point; with enough time, effort, and energy, anything's possible. ]

[lostsoldier]

A last name.

[ Not his, but what do you expect, everything on a silver platter? There's an elusive glint to his eye for just a moment, lost again as he lowers his gaze along with his drink. Flesh fingers twist the glass in place, dragging trails in the condensation. ]

I overreacted before. [ That sounds like an apology, although he neglects to say the words. ] It's happened before — the memory transfer thing. It was probably the ship, the nanites or something. Should've guessed.

[oversight]

[ John watches the hand — it's connection to the beer bottle the little fidgets that follow — instead of the face of the man almost apologizing. The level of sincerity doesn't seem to change between that and his previous statement, but there's a marked change in demeanor that John finds interesting. Wording, too. A last name. That's weird. ]

But, like— [ It's very suddenly spoken, Blake gesturing vaguely over the bar. ] What happened to just askin' me? Instead of—

[ He puffs out an amused huff and turns just a bit, an elbow leaned on the bar with a cup in that hand, and John pressed in a hair farther than necessary just so he can keep this discussion between them. ]

All I'm sayin' is that was one hell of an overreaction. [ Or it would be if the content of the memory wasn't every bit as alarming as originally suggested. ]

[lostsoldier]

I thought you'd-- [ done it on purpose, but he said that before, didn't he? Or implied it with his accusations, anyway, and maybe that's the reason he cornered Blake at all, but that's not why he reacted the way he did. He knows that. He ducks his head, rubbing his off hand to his temple to gather his thoughts, figure out how to put it. ]

You ever have one of those dreams where you can't tell -- when you wake up, the only reason you know it wasn't real is 'cause you don't remember getting back in bed after?

I'm not a big fan of that feeling. [ u n d e r s t a t e m e n t. ] Or of having it forced on me.

[ Or of having to talk about it, ever, apparently. ]

Shouldn't've lost control, though.

[oversight]

[ Believe it or not, Blake is actually a pretty chill dude. He doesn't take a whole lot to heart unless it's presented very personally, and that just doesn't appear to be the case here.

Smirking a bit from behind his drink, he watches the other man as he downs the rest. When he sets his cup aside, he reaches out and gives James' shoulder a brief squeeze. ]

Apology accepted. [ See? Benevolent. ] —but next time somethin' like that goes down, I'm punchin' you square in the nose.

[lostsoldier]

[ The slightest, contractually obligated eye-roll graces his expression at apology, like that's not exactly what he was doing, yeah, fine, but the drop of his gaze again is more unsteady than cocky. His smile breaks warmer, though, settling with the contact. Compared to all the other shit he's done in his life, this is a drop in the bucket, but — okay. So that's what forgiveness feels like. ]

I'd like to see you try, [ he answers a little too straight. Like no, really, he'd like to see that. If u know what I mean.

Speaking of, ]

So when are you gonna come spar with me?

[oversight]

[ Blake eyes the other man, gives him that once-over he saves for special occasions, then shrugs a shoulder nonchalantly. ]

OKay, yeah. When we get this whole name thing squared away, then we can spar.

[ It's pointed, but he's welcome to interpret it any way he pleases. For John's part, he's not certain he believes he's hearing the truth, and it buys him at least a little time to snoop while James is making guesses. Probably. ]

[lostsoldier]

[ The soldier exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a stretch of his neck as he brings the last of his drink up to his mouth again. Considering. His head nods askance as he brings glass to bar again. ]

You drive a hard bargain, R.

[ It's not a refusal, though. Not with that hooded spark of mischief in his eye. We'll see. ]