03. Girly drinks and parlor games [open]

[bespectacle]

CHARACTERS: Harry Potter, William Tsang, Mystique, & You
LOCATION: Sundry
WARNINGS: Spontaneous bleeding, language, etc.
SUMMARY: Encapsulating the May modplot, Harry Potter's grief at losing his mother (again), Mystique's post-murder shimmy and William Tsang's final days of soullessness.
NOTES: Let me know if you want me to make a starter and I will!


Harry Potter | Rec Rooms, Kitchens, etc.

[Secretly, Harry cries a lot.

Head under the pillows usually, in the privacy of his room. Sometimes though he winds up idiotically snuffling over pancakes and something goes wrong when he tries to catch up the recipe with his wand and ends up chewing through breakfast food that's gritty and sour.

Mostly, he's got a stiff British upper-lip focuses on keeping himself distracted. Learning more about Engineering's functions, browsing the library for video/games, bothering his uncles a bit, about meeting Sirius' dozen or so lady friends and swinging by Remus to check how them moon phases are going. He takes over Professor Snape's garden, and forgets about passing Crookshanks on to Cat (although were to be totally honest with himself it's less forgetting and more that the cat, lower-case, becomes a comfort in these early days).

Harry practices combat magic in the gym. Sends the Reductor curse flashing down empty corridors, more civilized practice of Stupefying spells and Jinxes into dummies in the rec room. You might catch him flying a little, mostly in the garden, riding over treetops with a moody face that breaks promptly when he hears you say hi.]

William Tsang | Heather Mason's Room

[The first patients have already cycled through the Medical Bay, painkillers prescribed in safe-enough doses. Whoever figured out the real cure deserves a hug, but William and Heather, at least, are otherwise preoccupied.

Under the tented blankets, the room lights come through just dimly. The blanket fort is very handsome, warm, spacious enough that they can be knee to knee. And also have hot toddies, though some has splashed already. Ned's got Takeshi in the gardens, William's next shift isn't for an hour. He hasn't been completely sure she's got her soul back, but she seems different-- probably because the difference between Heather-with-soul and Heather-without is a great deal bigger than these conditions are for William. (Or so he'd like to believe.)]

First things first, [he says, teacup balanced on his belly. Smiling, which is easier with her, even in absence of Prof. Snape anymore.] What the fuck is going on with the dozens of new blokes named after countries yammering on the fucking network? Do you know all them, too?

Mystique | Flight Deck, Passenger Quarters, etc.

[You know what's maybe weird.

A cyan blue lizard woman wearing protective flight area gear while she's jammin' out to Spunes on her comm device with a giant noise-cancellation headset clamped around her sleek, red-haired head is maybe weird. It's an oddly immediate return to the norm, with which she performs maintenance on the shuttles and the docking bays and the surface of the ship; like a housecat who finally got to stretch the claws on something alive, reset the timer on that particular itch, and it's napping on the couch in front of Meerkat Kingdom for the next while. Per our last network missive, few if any know what became of the artist formerly known as Marcus.

The fucking earbleed catches her by surprise.

She wrenches the audio-set off her head with a single, fluid motion of her arm, hurls it across the floor with more strength than she'd meant. Drops her hose, fortunately already off. The metamorph winds up doubled over, her hands clamped over her head and teeth gritted. Her hair shocks blonde for an instant-- then black-- short-- strings long, the musculature of her shoulders writhing like snakes.

After that, it's not incredibly long before she's dragging her somewhat sorrier ass to Medical Bay, then Xenogen, inquiring irritably but casually after the whereabouts of her brother. There is also a swimming pool incident, early on, in which she emerges sputtering less elegantly than she's usually wont-- having determined pretty unequivocally that freestyle doesn't help.]

Comments

Closed to Remus Lupin

[dogbane]

[They aren't dating.

But William asked about getting the anti-dranks charm lifted, and then it seemed only natural to offer to cook him something for dinner the next day, which made sense to practice beforehand-- the recipe. So what if he put a movie on afterward, and checked if Remus had midday break plans with the Support department the next day. It was very low-key that he brought a sack-lunch with an egg and leek cornish turnover with fresh-squeezed orange juice and roasted pumpkin seeds. He went straight back to his own job at the Medical Bay afterward, checked on Charlotte, tried to replicate Natasi's logistical work, and generally performed admirably. Thus no one could think he was still soulless.

No he isn't really fooling himself so much. Charles saw him. It's probably only a matter of time, barring the DUPRR Unit creating that much of a distraction.

But until then

there are one or two goldfish pictures in Remus' inbox every day (William doesn't have a cat; has never owned a pet; has no way of knowing what sells on Instagram). Also the girl who modeled for one of his books was in a TV series, an invitation that William carefully spaces out to two nights after the movie. He keeps his inebriation levels on a mean of about 30% and congratulates himself every night for having literally gotten away with murder :D, and piping important dreams into everybody's heads, which is nearly as good as having Severus around anymore. He tries not to worry, which is easier when you don't have a soul.

Possibly he makes an error in inquiring which of Ned's identified chickens Remus would most prefer to eat if cloned, as that could be seen as insensitive, but William thinks he's making a pretty good save when he comes by with crusty rolls (only slightly disintegrating), roasted asparagus, and an omelette. He thinks including a lot of egg must be important for a werewolf, which he isn't sure Remus is sure he knows about.] Hi, [he says.] Any more mystery shite?

[fullmoon]

—er.

[ The omelette is a mystery, and currently the focus of his attention—a little baffled, a little hungry—instead of William. William, who he is really, really not dating, and who has fed him so many eggs in the last week that Remus is beginning to feel a little guilty about—things. Everything. About taking eggs from other people who might need them. About eating eggs that William, specifically, gives him. About not pausing that television series every few minutes to remind William about that one time he made Sirius Black bleed. This is what happens when you don't have a soul, William: all the guilt you're not feeling ends up on other people's shoulders instead.

There's a question he's meant to be answering. ]

Piles of it, [ he says, gamely, not 100 percent sure he's answering the same question William is asking. He's standing in his doorway like a keeper in front of a Quidditch goal, except much more casually, shoulder to the frame. Sirius is next door. Or could be next door at any moment. Remus would not be embarrassed by either one of them, William or Sirius, so much as he just doesn't want to deal with it. ] Mystery shite from floor to ceiling.

[ Such as: ]

How many meals was that charm breaking good for, exactly?

[dogbane]

Ceiling? Jesus fucking Christ. [William is definitely not asking the same question that Remus is answering, at least not initially. His mind goes back to the pile of poop he'd found at his front door, and he makes a face, trying to picture how it would have gone if there had been pieces initially adhered above him as well. More poorly, for sure. Fortunately, he's taken away from his imaginings by the grim sentinel over here, interrogating him over the omelette.

Even in his soullessness, somehow he understands that this is a tenuous situation, either a deciding moment or one that has already been decided for him. Most likely not in his favor, he predicts, pessimistic even now. (And actually he is quite familiar with having someone else's frigging friendship-induced guilt displaced onto you-- thanks-- this might on some unconscious Freudian level be a form of revenge.) But William is better at hope these days, so he just says,] I'm sure I'll recognize the threshold when I arrive at it, [he says.]

If I had to ballpark it I'd say six. I really like my fucking alcohol. [So as not to seem as pushy as he actually is, he holds out the food with both hands, a gift that he apparently hopes Remus will accept even if he's passive-aggressively but wholesale rejecting his company and threatening to punctuate it by actually shutting a (hydraulic, semi-automated) door in William's face.]

[fullmoon]

Six, [ Remus echoes. His mouth can't decide if it wants to curl or not. It does a twitchy thing on one side before he rubs it with the side of his hand to make it settle down. ] All right.

[ The smell of the omelette is not helping his judgment at all. He's still worried--trying not to be, because if Heather isn't very worried then it isn't his place to be--about the potential soul loss issue. Or, if not that, that whatever happened in the secondary shuttle bay, and now Severus' absence on top, has sent William into some sort of spiral that will eventually end in a firey crash. Possibly a firey crash directly into Remus.

But it smells nice. And William, who Remus does not give nearly as much credit as he deserves for duplicity and subtlety and discretion, isn't pushing. If he pushed it would be easy for Remus to retreat, spooked, or to snarl and snap--like a trapped wolf. He'd hate the comparison.

But patiently and nonthreateningly holding out food is a good strategy, as far as canines go.

He takes the plate out of William's hands. ]

Do you like Benny Goodman?

[dogbane]

[William has the good grace to look embarrassed, which he is, despite having been savaged by a mythical beast that carved off pieces of his better self, he is.] I don't know him. [He sneaks a look Remus' face, even though it's normal to look at someone's face when you're talking to them. There is unmistakably a sneaky quality about him looking, though.] Sounds like a Yank.

[He's congratulating himself inwardly. It's not hard to tell, but you kind of have to look for it, otherwise William is just smiling at Remus' shirt/buttons. On the surface level, it's hard to tell that he's plotting about how to best encourage the werewolf to fall asleep on him. Maybe, he muses, by like installing a pillow barrier initially, under pretense of making himself comfortable. Not that he thinks success is likely, just this kind of thing requires tactical considerations if you're going to increase your chances to happening at all. He calculates in the effectiveness of the food offering.]

I'd like to get to know him, [he adds. Looks at Remus in the eyes, this time.]

Closed to Cat

[bespectacle]

[A quick text sets them up for the meet, and Harry arrives quite punctually.

It seemed strange to meet a teenaged girl in the usual places, bars and whatnot, so he opts instead for the Oxygen Gardens. He's easy to find. Exactly where he said he would be, the plot where Severus Snape and his mother had planted tidy rows of the dittany and the wolfsbane. Important herbs for magical potions, all slightly worse for wear after a few days unattended, but Harry is here now. Prepared to do his best.

Of course, to the uneducated observer, it just looks like there's a funny young man with spectacles taking his cat for a walk in the agricultural bit. He stoops to touch a leafy green carefully, turning it to check for yellow or brown.

In the background, Crookshanks meows and licks his paw imperiously.]

[testis]

[Text received, and here she was. Ready to meet Harry freakin' Potter. And Crookshanks. A little ridiculous, but so was this whole place.

Dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a dark green zip-up hoodie, Selina spots them both almost immediately. So, yeah, funny young man with spectacles taking a cat for a walk. Most people didn't take cats for walks.]

You're Harry Potter.

[She says by way of greeting, plopping down on the plot of grass next to him.] Cat. And- [She looks over at their furball friend.] Crookshanks.

[bespectacle]

That's right, on both counts. [Harry looks over from where he's crouching, managing a smile for the girl. Really, she hadn't seemed very different with a soul versus without, over the phone, and he has no real way of making comparisons now.

He wipes his hand on his leg and reaches over to shake her hand, trying not to accidentally squash any dittany flowers under his knee by accident.] Cat, is it? How are you doing? Has that angel bloke managed to hunt you down yet? [Looking like anything but a hunter of soulless persons himself, Harry starts to stand carefully, make his way over the rows.

Before he gets there, Crookshanks makes his way up to Cat. Smells Cat's arm speculatively, not quite touching just yet.]

[testis]

[She'd like to say there isn't much of a difference, anyway. Blake says there is, but Blake is an idiot. Meanwhile, there's Selina, who prefers not having a soul because she can hit harder, go longer, and just generally gives less of a shit.

Not that she gave much of one to begin with.

She holds out her hand and takes his with a quick, firm shake.] Yeah. Cat. If you need a last name for reference, it's Kyle.

[Oi. The angel dude. She rolls her eyes, glancing over at Crookshanks instead, giving the cat just the smallest of smiles. Let him get to know her. Then she'd touch him. He certainly looked soft. And smart, too. But most cats were.] Nah. Blake's trying to arrange a meeting, but he doesn't get it.

[bespectacle]

[Crookshanks' huge puffy self starts to make its way around Cat, investigative circles. Harry watches the animal go, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. It's nice to see.] I'm not sure what your last name can tell me, [he answers honestly.] Or your first name, if it isn't actually 'Cat.'

This is really up to Crookshanks. [He winds up sitting down on the grass right by her, leaving a gap that he's comfortable with-- one that'll give Crookshanks plenty of room for passage as well.] But if you don't mind, I am curious about this whole 'soullessness' epidemic. I have noticed that loads of people who lost theirs don't want it back at all, which makes the whole thing feel a bit evil. But obviously nobody's turned into a murdering maniac because of that.

[Forgive him. He lacks omniscience.]

How do you see who you used to be? [he asks.] Do you think you used to be weak?

[sweetmotherofgod]

Dozens.

[Soul or no soul, William never really changes. Which is pretty great, really. Especially when it means pillow forts and being curled close enough that the stabbing sensation behind her eyes lowers to a dull throb. A+ friending, gold star. She sighs, torn between the siren song of her hot toddy and the equally alluring thought of staying right where she is. The latter wins for no, at least.]

I know England. He's all Victorian and shit, but he's pretty funny. Not as uptight as he likes to pretend. Haven't met Canada but he seems pretty - I don't know. Canadian.

[Guess who didn't notice the little one while she was busy being a shithead.]

[dogbane]

[Even William noticed the little one, and he's never paying attention to anything.] There's also a child-sized friend for Takeshi, [he points out.] Little geezer was asking Mila if he could join Medical. I'm not sure what the fuck to do, but I s'pose you lot have got your own small person working the fucking fields so it would be consistent with our existing child labor laws.

Are they all brothers or something? [Bunch of handsome blondish white people. Besides, doesn't England tend to invade and colonize everybody throughout history? William doesn't know very much history.] Like you married the fun one, and the rest work as accountants or some shit. [Sorry accountants; apparently it's synonymous, for William, with being a bit uptight or possibly Canadian.]

[sweetmotherofgod]

[As much as she loves her dear not-husband, the thought of him as the fun one brings on a burst of laughter that leaves her pressing one hand to her poor head.]

Not brothers. They have people they call family but they're not... born, so I don't know how that works. Ned's got Luxembourg and Belgium, Belgium's a woman. [Which comes with a slight pursing of Heather's lips because especially after the whole loved ones trying to get people into the white room debacle, her feelings about Belgium are Extremely Fucking Mixed.] And everybody hates Spain? Which is weird, because - you know, Spain. I woulda thought he'd be all fun and sexy.

[Two people, Heather. Two people have mentioned hating Spain. You've been around William too long.]

You should let the little guy join. Give him safe shit to do, keep him busy. You guys spend less time rolling bandages, he gets to feel like he's doing something to help in this place. I dunno how the people who aren't in departments don't just go crazy thinking about all the awful shit that happens here. What's his name?

[dogbane]

[If you're implying that William suffers from cognitive distortions and wild problems with heuristics, you're wrong! He's the one who is questioning the ethics and logic of hiring a small child to work in a medical setting here, so if anyone has problems with mental clarity it's]

I suppose that makes sense. Even though I think he's too small to reach our higher counters.

[Ethics are for punks anyway.] 'Muscovy,' [he says after a moment's thought, probably pronouncing it wrong. He swirls his toddy around to try and get some of the alcohol out of the bottom, but winds up drinking half of it in a go anyway, twisting his head around to a weird angle to minimize losses to spills.] Muscky--? What fucking ever. It's an old name for one of the countries, I know that much; my ex used to be on about my general education. [Or lack thereof.] Have they got magic?

[sweetmotherofgod]

I thought those were ducks.

[She's too tired and too over the stupid headache thing to worry too much when she realizes how stupid that sounds out loud.]

Apparently some of them do. I never thought so but then there was all that shit with the monsters when we got our souls stolen and England came out just fucking setting monsters on fire. Oh, and Remus had a broken arm and England fixed it for him, once they finally stopped swinging their dicks about who was dealing with their pain in a more stoically British fashion. It was actually pretty cool.

[And finally, a pause to take a breath. Or a sip, which is probably more important.]

Why, did the little duck guy say he's got magic too?

Closed to Sirius Black

[bespectacle]

[This is not the bawdy drinking get together that Harry and Sirius had originally planned the other month, probably.

Saddish wizard o' clock on the nth floor Lounge instead. The Jump has wrought all kinds of changes, which have gradually come to light. Instead of tequila and lime wedges spirited away from Agriculture, we instead see a bottle of space whisky with a tastefully restrained tree on the label, serif font, and slightly more deflated young magically-inclined men than the ones who'd been spiritedly texting about Sirius' veritable circus of lady friends. Harry has somewhat picked himself up since noticing his mother is gone, at least. The map provided distraction, and now--]

Cheers. [He clicks tumblers with unky Sirius and swallows his whisky, neat. Privately, Harry hopes that the liquor will kick in before his mind erodes with some serious preoccupations with the possibility of Sirius or Remus vanishing next Jump, but he's managed not to get too lost in rumination since Sirius arrived. It seems like something wrong. In sincere hopes of improving his godfather's mood, he asks:] Is she going to meet us here?

[doggedly]

Cheers.

[Somewhat hollow agreement, but Sirius crooks a half smile at Harry, and that helps to take some of the darkness out of his general mien. Toast made, he drags his tumbler back toward him, a dull scrape against the bartop, and--shoulders hunched--leans down to take a sip. He's had years to get used to space whisky. It's still not good, but it's not bad, either.

There have been worse jumps than this. That doesn't make this better. But it's true, Sirius reflects, as he tips another swallow of whisky into his mouth. The best way to get over anything is to drink, and do your best not to think about any of it. Smears of blood, people jerked back to the very second of their fucking death--another swallow of whisky, and he assures himself: done.]

Uh, yeah. [--Once he's swallowed, that is.] Or anyway, I invited her. She's hasn't got a department. Occasionally creates problems for departments, bless her.

[That borders on the fond, despite everything in Sirius that works against the hint of a good mood. He crooks that same half smile, and swirls the whisky in his glass.]

She's brilliant.

[bespectacle]

[Harry looks curious, an eyebrow moving up almost invisibly under the weird snarl of his forelocks that he inherited from his dad. His fingers track the rim of his glass absently, applying idle pressure despite that the gravity doesn't really need any assistance to keep his drink sitting on the table right here. He's already smiling a little. She sounds fun.

She sounds right for Sirius, certainly. Troublemaker and all that.] I'm sure she'll be coming 'round soon then. [He doesn't even look at the door to verify, not wanting to seem doubtful, even if everything he'd ever heard about Sirius before now was something along the lines of a serial dater, where dating didn't seem accurate, in the way that entailed many stories that he'd had to find out later, mostly secondhand, talking to survivors of that era.]

What's her name, then?

[doggedly]

[Of course she'll be coming round soon: firstly, because this is Sirius, who doesn't get stood up. No arrogance there, just fact. It's probably to do with a combination of good looks and charm and knowing which girls to invite out, and where, and how. Intuition like that goes a long way.

Secondly, it's Sally. Whatever label might be applied to his relationship with her, it's one that involves a certain amount of desire to hang out together. With or without godsons.

So Sirius just does a sort of modest nod at that, and tips another swallow into his mouth. Very soon, thanks.]

Sally Malik. She's from Boston. I met her 'cos I was giving her a pair of jeans. That's how it's done in space.

[unmakes]

Pretty sure we met because I was stealing a pair of jeans. [ right on cue, tempted as she was to lurk casually around the corner and listen in on the introduction and figure out how the heck he even sells her with these people. ('lovely girl, awful poet' maybe - or 'oh, her wolf tried to rip my neck clean up in the lifts one time - but her taste in films is bloody brilliant', who even knows.)

anyway, those words come as she joins the pair of them, sinking down into one of the armchairs to form the third point to their otherwise wizardy triangle and pulling her legs up cross-legged.

without missing much of a beat, she looks to harry now with her brows slightly raised. ] He tried to arrest me. Siriusly.

Closed to the Hamada Brothers

[bespectacle]

[Behold: Engineering.

The lifts that take them there are as orange as the ones around the rest of the ship are blue, electrical lights coded, clearly, to indicate the importance of their purpose. Harry introduced himself on the way over in very brief terms. Harry Potter, again. Wizard. This is my wand, presented from his sleeve, and he has been on the ship for about four months now. His clearance is merely Engineering Trainee. He was friendly, but a little tired-looking in person, in a way that hadn't quite come across on the network.

He keeps between Tadashi and Hiro. At first, it might seem like he's just trying to be polite and make sure he's talking to both of them, but after awhile it might be clear there's a streak of envy there. They might run into that a little more later: not too many people are lucky enough to have family around.] And here we are, [is Harry's introduction when the doors open.

Pipes, lights, consoles, catwalks, the doors of the massive Reactor Bay far off in the distance. It's a sprawling nexus of space-age technology.]

[tadashiwashere]

[On the way over, Tadashi's expression briefly clouds in mild concern when he takes note that Harry seems tired -- he even makes a point to let the younger man know that if it's too much trouble, they don't need to have the tour. He offers his own introduction back after Harry's (throughout which he did his best to keep an open mind re: wizardry and wands) -- Tadashi Hamada, college student studying robotics at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology before ending up in this mess. He takes a moment to brag on his brother, too. Hiro -- due to start attending the same college after an extremely impressive tech demonstration at the last SFIT showcase...

At that point, he had trailed off abruptly eyebrows knitting together as he tried to make some pieces fit. All of his memories had come back over the first few days, but he doesn't remember anything past the showcase. He's assumed up until now that he and Hiro were snatched on their way home from there, but he can't actually remember the drive back...

Their arrival distracts him from those thoughts. He gives a low whistle and steps off the lift, looking up and around in an attempt to see it all.]

How many workers does it take to keep the ship going?

[That's his first question as he strays a few more steps towards one of the nearest consoles. He manages to keep it at just that -- a few steps. This is a tour, after all, and not free reign for Tadashi to poke his nose into whatever catches his interest. And all of this has his interest.]

[bespectacle]

That's an interesting question, actually.

[Harry has brightened a little since he properly got to talking, if it helps. He certainly wasn't going to stand down from the tour around. If anything, the better to distract himself, even if adorable brotherly moments do spring other thoughts unbidden to his mind.] From what we can tell, a woman named Devon Resnik ran it herself for awhile. The original crew probably had dozens, before the strange disasters struck and she took over. Then when we-- the new passengers started showing up, well. [He glances at a console, leans over to beep boop a thing or two, make himself look like he knows what he's doing. (Kind of true.) (Anyway the lights are all green and he's just looking after pressure valves today, so we're good.)]

Resnik started showing up less and less, 'til it was just us. From what I can tell, nearly all the departments are quite small, but the Tranquility moves forward anyway. [He pauses, takes a step back to angle properly, points off at the huge doors in the distance.] We still haven't got access to the Jump Drive. Which is a pity: it's probably why we're here.

[hirobotics]

[Hiro's only very dimly aware of the fact that he might be coming off pretty rude at the moment. He gave his own, very brief introduction when they were exchanged, sparing a minute to shove Tadashi for talking about him like that ("Oh, come on, it was just a presentation."), but he certainly didn't hide the raise of his eyebrow when Harry introduced himself as a wizard. He even came complete with wand. Hiro almost made a remark about his missing cauldron and broomstick, but successfully held himself back. Already an accomplishment for him, really.

He leaves most of the talking to Tadashi, anyway. He's better with people. At least Hiro doesn't fall back and end up walking behind them, and he does pipe in on occasion when he has something to contribute. But other than that, he has his mind set on seeing this Engineering department and seeing what it has to offer.

When they get there, he's not disappointed. Hiro's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open just a little bit and there are just-- so many things to look at. It's like the showcase all over again, except this time he can actually go and check the other booths out instead of being nervous about his presentation. The place is huge. And Hiro's already starting to walk ahead of the other two, drawn to the tech like a moth to the flame. And when Harry points out the huge doors to the Jump Drive, well... Hiro's sights find themselves completely locked in.]

No one's ever been in there? Even that- that Resnik woman never went into those doors?

[tadashiwashere]

Is there some sort of failsafe mechanism locking the doors down? Something from the... disasters?

[Though the tech of Engineering definitely has Tadashi's current attention, any mention of what happened to the Tranquility in the past to turn its naming so unfortunately ironic is something he sees as worth pursuing. From what he's gathered talking to other passengers and reading the records that are available through the communications network, the ship has an extremely long and eventful record since the original crew's disappearance. Somewhere in that history... he feels like there has to be more clues that will let him understand what's happening to them now and how to make it stop.

That's probably something to be delved into another time, however. For now, Tadashi is stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking over to stand beside his brother, his eyes fixed on the doors to the Jump Drive as well.

If it's true that no one has been in there... Well, there aren't many more obvious places for explanations to be held than behind locked doors.]