driftfleet | (no subject)

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Who: Anyone! Everyone!
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: On the FLOOT LOOP stations! Or the planet!
When: WHENEVER time is an illusion.

[you know the drill! this is a mingle for the stations floating around the bizarre forest planet, or the forest planet itself!

want to get away from the forest illusions? are you stopping for supplies? were you just really craving a bowl of Floot Loops for some reason? whether you are backdating for pre-planet shenanigans or just want to mess around, this is the post for you!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Don't be a spoilsport.

Fair is fair. I'm agreeing to release a pretty big secret, after all.

I'm not owing you a favor. [Nope, nope, nooope. She tilts her head back...] I bet you would be interested in hearing more about my world, though.

And I'm sure you'd love to tell me. So, it doesn't count.

[he sighs.]

...How about this. The winner gets to ask the other three questions, and those questions must be answered honestly.

I suppose that's acceptable enough.

[She puts her shot glass down and waves him to sit.]

[as he slides into the seat--]

You know... For someone who wants so much information from the world, you seem particularly averse to negotiating for it.

Hahaha! What makes you say that? Bartender! [Yelled towards the counter without waiting for his reply] We're gonna need rounds. A lot of rounds!

Yes, I wonder.

[he squints a little when she yells, but it fades fast. he's still lounging straight and proper, as if they're seated at a fine dining establishment instead of some tacky tourist bar.]

So, which flavor have you found easiest to stomach?

Well, with cagey types I like to be cagey. And I think the strawberry is most palatable.

[There are so many tiny shot glasses being carried their way... so many tiny glasses...

Hange herself kicks back. Just as if they're actually friends, here at this bar.]

'Cagey.' I like that.

[bring it.]

...I like the look of the purple one the most, but I'm afraid to taste it.

[She picks up a glass... one of the purple ones. Leaving the former remark be for the moment.]

It's some permutation of grape, I think.

[he follows suit, selecting one of the beautiful glasses of jeweltone violet liquid, and sniffs it.

he, of course, immediately regrets this decision and pulls a face.]

...That does not smell anything like wine.

Maybe it's an alien flavor. On zero! Three, two, one...

[--and he barely has a moment to look subtly horrified before it's shot time!

he's at least had plenty of years to work out how to make this look clean and dignified despite wanting to gag. ugggh...]

[Heh. Heh. Classic. She snatches up another shotglass. This one is... blue. Blue raspberry.]

Three, two, one -

[he's still making a face, setting down his glass and opening his mouth to comment-- but oh, no, apparently it's already time for round number two.

he's quick to catch up, glaring just a little as he hurries to follow her lead.

he still knows he's going to win, but she's still going to make him suffer a little for it.]

[Shot glass down.]

They're calling that one blue raspberry. I dunno about you, but I've had gold and red, but never blue. Why blue?

[But does it matter? She picks another shot glass up. This one's pink. Strawberry!]

[he holds up a finger. just so he can snag a moment to finish swallowing and make a face--he hangs his tongue out with a satisfying ulgh. it's definitely black and forked, the inside of his mouth looks to currently be of a matching color, and his teeth are sharp. maybe it helps, maybe it's a defensive reaction.]

--It makes a much better popsicle than it does alcohol.

[okay, he got a comment in. he can continue now. he picks up the next drink.]

[She has no idea what a popsicle is, and she's blatantly staring at his tongue, but she gets it together enough to count down again:]

Three, two, one -

[And take the shot. And PICK THE NEXT ONE UP. Oooh man this stuff is gonna knock even her back fast, and Hange drinks hard, but it's going to be worth it to drink off some of the restlessness that's been bothering her since the music started.]

[he's reeling, but it's absolutely only because of the taste. though he can appreciate many wines and pleasantly-flavored adult beverages, he has never particularly enjoyed drinking alcohol. stuff that tastes like syrup and chemicals is even worse.

one eye squints closed on this round and just kind of stays that way. he'd wanted to keep track of the rise of poisons in her blood, but he's honestly too distracted and assaulted to pick it up.]

Don't you ever stop to breathe?

[ugh, he picks up the next one.]

I'm here to drink, not have a lady's luncheon.

[And she takes the shot!]

Oh, I would never mistake you for a lady.

[and he follows. ...oh ew, yellow is bad.]

[Four shots. She can feel 'em. Win or lose she feels better, at least, and she laughs at his remark like he meant it to be funny and not trying to rip her up. She picks up a green one...]

Three, two, one. [And shot.]

[it's meant to be funny in the way that he's not expecting it to actually stick. it's pretty obvious that resembling a lady is the absolute last thing she cares about.

and he shakes his head after the last one, interrupting the rhythm of the assembly line she's got leading into her face by snatching out to pick up the specific one that she's reaching for next]

--Can we at least make this one fun, at least?

[please, for pity's sake. he picks it up and kind of motions toward her face, showing that he'd feed this one to her. the fact that she could do the same to him is implied. she could pour it in his eye if she wanted.]

Aw! [She pauses in surprise enough for all of that to happen smoothly. ... Then that one really makes her laugh. That's not what she was expecting at all, but -]

Sure. I'm game. [She picks up another glass. She will refrain from pouring it in his eye, too.]

[see, look. they're friends.]

Just please remember that I like this shirt very much.

[and this stuff looks like it stains.

and if she's game, he'll delicately tip the thing into her mouth when she's ready. probably much slower than she'd like for a shot, but he doesn't want it to spill. maybe he's really, really hoping for the golden rule here.

...that, and he wants to make sure that the shot is somewhere around triple potency, and is going to give her a hell of a hangover in the morning, by the time it reaches her mouth.

at least she gets to look at his tongue again. turns out that thing is almost prehensile, and he wants to steady the incoming glass as much he can.]

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GO TO BED

OKAY going now

good. good.

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