driftfleet | When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

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]

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[He practically lights up at the prospect of a bottle. Careful, Crowley, you might be on the precipice of helping.]

Well that's marvelous of you, isn't it! [He hoists himself up to properly sitting.] I do hope you're intending to get me drunk, ser.

[He is already. In case that wasn't clear enough on its own. Just to be 100% sure, he finishes what's left in his cup before the bottle makes it back.]

Because Maker knows I could use it.

[He will admit to nothing. Oh look, here's a bottle, it's Anders's lucky day. ]

I have a... talent for knowing what people want. Besides, if I'm opening up a bar soon, I need to get my practise in for making people bollocksed.

Fair enough! Feel free to practice on me all you like.

[That one's a bit more clear in its suggestivity. He reaches for the bottle and wrenches the stopper out, pouring himself a new glass somewhat messily.]

Cheers to me! [He leans over to point the bottle in Crowley's direction.] And to you, and to a new bar to make truly stupid choices in.

Now, that, I can do.

[He gives Anders a smug grin, leaning back in his seat. ]

Truly, a great thing to make a toast to.

Drink? Drink.

[If Crowley has kept his cup, Anders will be topping it off for him. Otherwise he'll just shove the bottle in his direction. This is a team sport!]

Now, tell me about this bar of yours. What's the decor going to be like? That's very important, you know. [As he's already established, the shittier the better, in his opinion.] You'll need the right clientele. The fun kind.

[This is the best team sport, and Crowley will happily hold his glass out for refilling. He takes a long, contented swig of his drink. ]

Well, it's going to have some class to it, but I want plenty of murky corners for aforementioned fun goings on. Got to have murky corners in a bar, otherwise it's not a proper bar.

You're going for subtlety, are you? All right, I see, I can respect that. So long as there's trouble to be found, you can bet I'll be there to find it.

[beat]

Also, the alternative most days is dirtying up my own ship. Which I'm not opposed to, necessarily, it's just that much more of a pain. Supposed to set a good example, or whatever.

Good to know I can rely on you for any trouble I should require.

Really? Are there...children aboard, or something?

You know, I'm not really sure?

[A question for the ages: does Megaman actually count as a child if he's technically a robot and Anders has no idea how long he's been around for? His expression pinches around another gulp of whiskey, and he shakes his head.]

No, no, no. Close enough to count, I'd say. I'm not sure he'd even know what to do with that sort of trouble, if you catch my meaning. Anyway, that plus the whole captaining thing, and it's just a recipe for disaster, isn't it? Enough people on my crew thinking I'm rubbish at it in the first place.

[Well, Aveline. And him, if he's really honest. But still.]

[Crowley gives a soft snort of amusement.]

And this is why I quit the captain thing. Couldn't be bothered with all the bullshit. It's a lot of weight on your shoulders when you don't know what the fuck you're doing.

[He rubs at the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, bizarrely determined. Even in a more sober state of mind he probably couldn't really articulate why hanging on to the captainship is so important to him, just that it is.]

It's been far too long for me to quit now. Now if I quit they'll go around to the whole fleet with their "I told you so"s. Really, when you think about it, I'm doing everyone a favor. [Another beat, and he smiles broadly.] Plus, I think everyone already assumes I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, so it isn't as if the bar is very high.

[Ah. So that was it. Crowley exhales softly, a noise that could be mistaken for amusement. Maybe contempt. Maybe both. Humans. They were a law unto themselves, and every now and again he's reminded that he chose right, backing them when the stakes were at their highest. ]

Ah, so I see. Very noble effort you have going there.

[Anders isn't in a state to process anything even remotely resembling nuance. He flaps both hands and takes another harsh swallow of his drink. He can quit whenever he likes, that's the benefit he tells himself he has. He could let the burden fall to someone else and coast along on their coattails, whenever he wants.

Sometimes he does genuinely think he can still be that sort of man.]

Doesn't take nobility to not want to be blown out of the sky, does it! I like to think that bit is universal.

You'd think, but I've met some bloody minded humans in my time. Some would quite happily tear the world apart to get what they want, forgetting the very important fact that they live there too.

[Anders scoffs, a low, derisive sound in the back of his throat that's a harsh counterpoint to, well— the rest of his demeanor, really.]

Now there's something that sounds familiar. All right, all right, point conceded.

[He jabs his drink in Crowley's direction, which sloshes it a bit on the table. This is how table stickiness is made, friends.]

But. In my defense, the bed is also bigger.

[Back on the captain thing, yes.]

[Anders, he just cleaned that, come on.]

Yes, that is true. Of course, you can get away without being captain while still enjoying that kuxury by just sharing the captain's bed. Works wonders.

[His nose crinkles.]

You haven't had the honor of meeting my crew. No, no. They're fine, sure, and I can hardly knock the strategy, but it just doesn't work in my case. Slim pickings, if you catch my meaning.

[This isn't strictly true (Orion, for instance, is plenty nice to look at, and Misha was, too, before she got snapped up by the mysterious Powers-That-Be) but he's also so excruciatingly hung up on Hawke it barely even matters.]

Really? [Crowley pulls a face. ] That's a crying shame, that is. Nothing worse than a crew that's not easy on the eyes.

You're telling me. [He sighs, melodramatic.] But that's the luck of the draw, isn't it? Suppose the responsibility of the captain's bed falls to me and me alone.

[The demon chuckles, patting Anders on the shoulder. ]

I feel for you, I truly do. You poor soul.

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When We're Rollin Through the Wild Wild West

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