When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

[geonomy]

Who: Everyone! EVERYONE!
Broadcast: IF YOU WANNA
Action: Everywhere! EVERYWHERE!
When: Mid-September - Mid-October

[How's your ship doing, pardners? Is it still pretty damaged? Is it glitching out hardcore? Well, there is one place to land to take care of all that, and that's on a dusty old moon in front of a planet that no one wants to go to. On this moon, you'll find a civilization that looks a lot like one's stepped into a wild west movie, hardened cowpolk and mutant horses and all. Will you become a vigilante, hunting bounties and stopping gangs from doing their dirty work? Will you go exploring planetside, with a cowboy hat and a stalk of wheat in your mouth to complete the look? Good luck with that; there is no wheat. This town ain't big enough for all you flooters, but make it so! For the ratings!

In other words, it's a planet mingle! Get 'er done!]

[September Planet info here]

Comments

[dancingmd]

Doesn't sound much like dealing with it to me. You're trying to avoid getting hurt in the first place, which is not quite the same thing.

[thezerothlaw]

I am sure.

[It's okay if he doesn't understand. Most humans who aren't roboticists don't understand.]

What would you like to take pictures of?

[unfulfilledpotential]

Not sure. See, I take pictures to remind myself of all the stuff I've seen, and the people I've met, and now the places we visit.

There's no "real goal," you know? Just pictures to remember everything by.

[dancingmd]

[Giving him a knowing smirk, Beverly gets up again to fetch two sugar cubes, one for her, one for him. After dropping the cubes into their respective cups, she then obligingly adds some more of the synthehol to Nel's tea, though she leaves hers well enough alone. She's just pleased that her placebo idea seems to be working.]

[survives]

That doesn't even mean anything! Not if you wanna compare them!

[tothefly]

Are you sure? Result's the same, isn't it?

[She offers Beverly a small smile, not quite meeting her eyes.]

[princessia]

Oh! O-okay...

[ She switches the position of her thumb, properly placing it over her fingers. ]

You... want me to punch the dummy?

[nextlineis]

Sure it does. But you know if you really want to compare, you're totally welcome to come onto the Caprine and see how good it is for yourself. I can guarantee you that you'll want to transfer after just five minutes.

[unconfines]

Well, not with that attitude it doesn't. [He sets one hand over his heart, mock-affronted.] I talk with spirits all the time these days, it seems. Why should it not count just because they've got real world bodies now, hm?

[killedwithlove]

.. by spirits, do you mean me? Because I'm only one spirit.

[openhands]

Yes.

[This is said with an exceptional amount of patience that Cassandra would not afford to literally anyone else.]

[dancingmd]

[Beverly gives her a small smile in return, then reaches out and squeezes Natasha's hand, briefly.]

I'm no stranger to loss and I've done what you're doing. Never works exactly how you plan. Isolation hurts too, just in a different way.

[unconfines]

[He won't call her out on something like that. He knows better than anyone that having charity acknowledged is, like, the worst feeling in the world. Drinking is much better!]

And the whole world appreciates it, let me assure you. Worlds. World? [He shakes his head, takes a generous gulp of his beer.] The point is, it's keeping me popular enough to continue getting paid. And what else is money good for if not more alcohol?

[unconfines]

Justice would be the other one, though you're a sight less corpse-y than he is, that's for certain. [A beat, while he considers.] He's also not here, strictly speaking, but I think he still counts. Seems rude otherwise.

[killedwithlove]

He counts. He's a spirit. Justice, Vengeance, Rage, Compassion, Mercy, Despair...

[Cole stares off somewhere else.]

[tothefly]

I don't think the truth is that clear-cut. People aren't that simple. Why should facts be any different?

[Is she lying if she calls him a good man? Or would the lie be to say that he isn't? Maybe they're both lies. Maybe they're both true.]

Guess it all depends on what you want to be true.

[redactions]

[ Jim meets her gaze, unflinching. ]

The truth is a matter of circumstance. So is being good. So what do you want me to be?

[tothefly]

[She doesn't pull away from the contact, exactly, but she does look at Beverly with a different sort of light in her eyes. Instead of the veiled look she's been wearing, there's something more alive, contemplative.]

Are you worrying about me, Beverly?

[tothefly]

[It's a question that's got a thousand layers to it. Fortunately, the answer is easy. She doesn't blink.]

James Barnes. Whoever you think that is. A partner, maybe.

[A friend, she doesn't say. She never does.]

[dancingmd]

[Beverly raises her eyebrows. Of course she is.]

Hey, if you're allowed to worry about me, then I'm allowed to worry about you. [She points a knowing forefinger at Nat.] And don't try to tell me you're not worrying, because you are, I can see that even if I do have a couple of glasses of this god-awful whiskey in me.

[redactions]

[ She never says friend. She never asks, she never bends, she never lets anyone see her bleed. There was a time in his life it did better to pretend Steve was indestructible — he always pulled through every illness, didn't he? Natasha's the same. There's so much of Steve in her, and she doesn't even know. ]

[ He can't pretend when he knows how the vulnerabilities show themselves. The glass gets set down, and Jim doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he won't, until, ]

I wish Nat was here, just so you two could meet. You'd like each other, I think.

[ A soft smile. ]

Is that strange?

[unconfines]

Careful. You'll be listing off feelings forever if you get started, and us still with boils to look at and skinned knees to patch.

[A beat. Justice is a spirit, the way Cole is a spirit. Except they've just gotten finished talking about how no one is really sure what Cole is, Cole himself included, and— it used to make sense, spirits and demons. He spent years of his life studying them, sorting them, understanding them and how to fight them off, if he had to.]

Some of those you're listing off don't really sound like spirits to me, though.

[killedwithlove]

They are. I've been Compassion and Mercy. I was nearly Despair, but Cassandra promised to kill me if I ever do that.

[And Vengeance could have run the risk of becoming Rage.]

But now I'm too mortal. I'm Cole instead.

[tothefly]

Of course I'm worried. You're drinking that godawful whiskey, aren't you?

[Then again, to be fair, so is she. Natasha reaches for her glass, lifting it towards Bev with the faintest of smiles on her face.]

[tothefly]

[Like Steve? She'd never agree. Steve Rogers is something she lost all chance at being years ago. Decades. But she's made her peace with that. She's comfortable with silence. So is he, usually, and for that she's willing to let this end there. He's still got more to say, though, and what that something is actually gets a quiet laugh.]

It's bad luck to meet your doppelganger, you know. Something about a fight to the death. It's part of the rules.