driftfleet | Video/Action

Who: FDR and OPEN
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: A bar somewhere
When: Now

[He’s dressed in a sleek suit, folded collar, black tie, slicked back hair, the whole fancy ensemble. It’s new and it makes him feel somewhat normal again. Hence, the very late, but first public introduction.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands clasped together between his knees.]

Hey there, other...captives. TV stars. Whatever we’re being called. And I guess. Anyone else watching. My name is FDR. Yeah, it’s letters. And yeah, like the president. No, I’m not a president, but you know, I don’t mind pretending if anyone wants to be my Marilyn. [And he grins cheekily.] But, really, being named after the guy who came up with that whole “The only thing to fear is fear itself” crap isn’t bad. I mean, a lot of people buy that. It’s not true, by the way. There’s a shitload of stuff to be scared of. Like WMDs. ...My boss. ...Being on an alien’s version of The Real World.

[And he shakes his head, still a little disgusted at the prospect of reality TV. Those were dark days.]

So, back home I was the cruise ship captain of a [smirk] very large vessel. And you know, being in the business of pleasure cruises, I have to say, this one seriously lacks. I mean, people can’t be watching us just to see us busting our asses earning some money, so where’s all the drama, violence, and sex happening? That’s how MTV got their ratings. Or murder...has that happened at all? I mean, not on MTV-I don’t think- on the ships...obviously.[So smooth.]

And I’ve seen some people talking about people they know up and disappearing, anyone know for sure what happens to them? Not enough popularity? Do they get demoted to the alien version of Fear Factor? Star in their own snuff films?

[And he looks like he’s done with his questions for now, he even leans forward to shut off the video, but then pauses, a small smirk gracing his features.]

Oh. And just out of pure curiosity, has anyone tried racing the shuttles?

Action: A bar. Any bar.

[Bars aren’t his favorite scene, there’s just not enough energy. It’s a bunch of depressed and tired people sitting at tables and on barstools nursing their emotions and their booze. He usually prefers clubs, there’s an energy to be found in the loud music and lights and swaying bodies. But this feels more appropriate after working all day at a job he really doesn’t like. He’s not interested in the game so much as he’s interested in the end result right now. And that’s to get drunk.

He’s sitting at the bar, a couple of empty shot glasses in front of him, and the latest in his fingers. The only thing that’s giving him a reason to pause is the woman that moves over next to him to order a drink.]

You. [And he points the pinky finger of his shot-holding hand at her, smiles when the single word catches her attention.] Are shining like a bright light.

[She rolls her eyes and moves away from him and he chuckles lightly at his failure.] Well, guess it’s more of a club line than a bar line.

[And he slams back his shot before setting the glass back on the bar with a clank.] Top it off.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Nothing really outside the Fleet. But I'm sure if you got adventurous enough, someone on the waystations might give you a ride. I tend to stick to fellow Fleet members,

Yeah? And how's that go? I mean. There's nowhere to really hide from other ship captives. You know what I mean? [Of course this guy does. Birds of a feather and all.]

Before Atroma starting shoving everyone in like sardines, we all had our own rooms. I still have my own room. Plus a bar, if I feel the need.

Wait. Like...as in you own a bar?

I do. It's called Málum. It's on the Iskaulit.

It's the fancy bar as opposed to the hole Varric owns.

...What language is that? [he knows a handful of them, but that one isn't making much sense to him.]

Málum? It's Latin.

[It means Apple. Because he's a loser. ]

I don't know about Iskaulit, though. Not an Earth language, at any rate.

Latin. Wow, kind of a dead language there, buddy.

So...how do you feel about giving a newbie a free drink or two?

That's all a matter of perspective. What's dead to some is just taking a nap to others.

I dunno. You going to make that worth my time?

You expect Latin to make a comeback?

[His brow arches at that and he brings his knuckle up to his lips in consideration.] I like to think I'm interesting enough.

Might do. History has a funny way of repeating itself.

And I'm supposed to take your word on that, am I?

Well, that I will totally agree with you on.

[And he shrugs casually.] If you're going to wander down that path, you can't really take my word on anything I'd say there, can you?

Suppose I can't. Still, maybe if you show up at the bar, I might show you some charity.

Or I might not. You'll just have to try your luck.

[Charity. Man, if that word doesn't make him inwardly twitch.]

Oh, so time to find out if you're a tease or put out, huh? Alright. I'll swing by.

Absolutely. Only seeing for yourself will answer that for you. See you soon~

Ciao.

[ooc: you cool actioning this out? handwaving, saving for later? et. etc.?]

Likewise.

[[OOC Anything you'd like to do is absolutely fine with me, I'm easy :)]]

[Why the hell not. Can't hurt to know a bar owner in a place like this. Or a guy who has some of the same thoughts on life that he does.

So he shows up about an hour after their conversation. Never show up too early, it's just bad form. And he heads over to the bar, leaning over on his elbows and looking around for the guy in the video. Maybe he should have bothered to get a name.]

[Crowley already approves on this guy's idea of punctuality (in that it shouldn't exist)and so wanders over with a smirk and a lazy wave when he notices the guy in the bar.]

Look at that, you showed up and everything.

[He shifts so that he's properly facing the other man, and don't bother with the whole waving thing, but he does smile back easily.]

Well, needed to see if you were a liar on top of sexual deviant or not.

Lie? Oh no, never me. I'm a demon of my word, me.

[Which...isn't exactly the best trait for a demon to have, but what else is new where Crowley's concerned. ]

[His brow arches and he's torn between entirely ignoring that whole 'demon' comment, or chasing after it. In a past life, he wouldn't have bothered. Men were men. Demons didn't freaking exist. But here everything was weird.

And he just couldn't help himself.] ...Demon? Like little red butts and pitchforks?

No. That's the little image humanity have made of us. I'll have you know my arse sin't red, and I haven't so much as touched a pitchfork.

...You're being serious aren't you? So...you're a demon who owns a bar. Okay. [Just. Hm. Give him a second.] How's Hell?

Absolutely. A demon who owns a great bar, at that.

[He grimaces, then shrugs. ]

About the same as you guys picture it, but with more bureaucracy.

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