driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

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!]

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Like when you go drinking and dancing. Like at clubs and stuff.

[yeah, slightly different.]

I don't think we have those. Usually if I'm called to dance... it's, ah, for a formal party of some kind.

Oh, yeah that's lame.

You've never been dancing for real? Where everyone's like--

[and of course this is where he straightens up to give a little caricature mime of dancing, arms in the air like he just don't care.]

And the music's like vwoom vwoom vwoom, and everybody's wasted and having fun?

-- Is that real dancing? [But she says it playfully, and her eyes gleam in amusement. She's chuckling.]

I'm not sure that exists at home. I've never heard of music like that either. [And people only wave their arms in that manner if they're in front of a firing squad.]

Yeah, it's real dancing! It's great.

[he continues to bop in his seat a little, hamming it up, pretending for all the world that there's music playing.]

It's great for expending energy and forgetting stuff for a while. I bet you'd love it.

[He's keeping her laughing, so he can feel good about himself. Small laughs but real, as she props her chin on her hand and watches him get groovy. At least he has some joy in his life.]

Things like that sure have their place. I can tell you love it.

[he does feel good about himself. he can be the clown as much as he can be anything else. he does take a break though to drink some more, though.]

I do. Sitting still is hard to do at night, you know?

[sure a lot of that is because of a certain drug habit, but what are you gonna do.]

You need to run around during the day more, then. I never have trouble sleeping...

[Not entirely true, but he doesn't need to know - and wouldn't begin to grasp - the grim situation everyone's in at home. And besides, she usually is so exhausted she just falls into bed like that.

She drinks too.]

That's hard, though.

[he wavers a little, drooping, but it's mostly a drunken display of melodrama.]

I'm getting better, buuuuut... I'm still not used to being up during the day, like, at all.

[She reaches across the table and ruffles his hair hard, again.]

What's your augment, kiddo? I can't remember if you told me...

[oop, this time the wobble is genuinely intoxication. his head is definitely swimming.]

Communications. I guess. Like, the signals and stuff.

Useful! It doesn't seem like we have... a surplus of those. Good for you, kiddo.

[She pats him on the head, and then takes her hand back. Don't want to knock the baby onto the floor.]

We don't? I don't know. I don't know what I'm really supposed to do with it...

[which shows how dedicated he is to the job. it's one augment that can kind of be played with and used whenever they want. he's unsurprisingly wasting his, for the most part.]

The whole augment thing seems so dumb. Why don't they just hire people to do these jobs? ...I don't get it... Why are we supposed to do them..?

[and he slumps further and further onto the table as he babbles, picking at the label on the bottle, until he's almost laying his whole upper body across it. both spineless and restless.]

[Poor baby. She reaches across the table again and ruffles his hair more.]

Because they wanna watch us flail around and struggle, kiddo.

I think you can do encryption and stuff with it. Track signals. Useful things. Nunnally has that. And Garak.

Nunnally has it..?

[but he's so distracted when he asks it. it's more drunken parroting than anything else. he's looking elsewhere, brain working over something else entirely.

he might have even dropped off into a sleepy, boozy lull if he wasn't so wired. probably on something he shouldn't be.]

I want to go do something. [finally, a compulsion of his own. he refocuses on her a snap.] Let's go do something.

[She takes a moment to parse those words, and then grabs the bottle and starts working on getting herself to her feet. It takes more effort than it should.]

Sure, kiddo. Let's get outta here.

[he's glad that they don't care, here. there's probably something resembling law holding this place together, but they don't care. sure, let patrons get wasted and walk off with bottles of booze and bodies overfull with poison-- as long as they make a mess elsewhere.

so, he doesn't even glance back at the bar before he grins and shoves himself too quickly and too clumsily up to his feet.

he has no idea where they're going.]

[Out the door! Into the light! Into the rush. They really need to turn everything here off, now and again. She misses late nights in the lab.

Hange takes a swig straight from the bottle's mouth and then passes it in Nel's general direction. It's his job to catch it.]

[oh yeah, he is all over that. look at that elven dexterity go. and he takes a big pull from it, tilting his head back, because he doesn't want to carry the bottle around forever.

the bubbles burn, though. he coughs and squints. and he meant to just push the bottle in her direction, but his whole body follows--leaning her way.]

[When he bounces into her shoulder, she reacts automatically to reach out and take hold of his shirt collar. She just holds him up, scruffing him a little, reaching with her free hand to take the bottle... here's where it might get dropped, if ever, because between fielding him and it, her fingers are fumbly. If he's not holding it tight, it'll slip right through her hand.]

[...oops. well.

he's not holding onto it super tight, especially while surprised over being collared.

which means that it's likely to slip through and hit the ground like a small, wet bomb.]

Shit!

[She drags Nel away from the tinkle and kresh of breaking glass. At least she rescued the princess, if not the bottle.]

Ah... damn. Well... we drank enough anyway...

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