driftfleet | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who: Everyone
Broadcast: N/A
Action: Iskaulit
When:

[So we've been stuck on the poison moon for a couple months now, so a lot of people probably want to get away from that.

Unfortunately, the only place you really can get away from it besides your own ship is the Iskaulit. So, here's a June Iskaulit mingle!]

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[ He just... sort of waves his hand dismissively. ]

It sucked. I get it.

Good. [Because she's lazy. But Dean can work it out for himself pretty quickly if he ever tries.]

Anything else I can help you with, or should I just get you another drink?

[ Oh, he'll figure it out. One of these days. Probably soon. ]

I'd take another beer. [ As if he'd say no. ]

[Please don't lobotomise yourself, Dean.]

You got it. I assume you like the one you had? [She's getting more of the same.]

You pick a good beer, i'll give you that much.

[ Bring on the boooooze. ]

I know what my customers will like. It's a talent.

[Well, it's more tactful than saying no, you ordered this before. She gets the impression he could be a little twitchy about that.]

Here you go. [It's also some of the better beer here. She'll give him taste.]

Newly acquired one?

[ Which is his fancy way of asking if you were a bartender back home too. No judgement, just his sorry ass way of trying to make conversation.

Also: already diving into the next beer. ]

Newly refined one. [She grins.] I'm experienced in bars. Just not usually this side of them. But working here lets me drink free of charge, so I'm up for it.

Now there's a bargain. [ That's a lie - stealing booze by way of finding it in weird ass places is what he's done for the past five years.

Scavenging has it's benefits. ]

[Nami's a pro at scavenging, too-- she's got ten years as a thief under her belt. Generally a nicer person than Bela, though.]

Definitely. They probably should have checked how much I can drink before I'm under the table, though. I think I got the better end of the deal by far.

[ That almost earns a note of amusement because yeah, he feels you there. ]

Guess it just depends on how often you want to be out cold, then. [ Dean, why are you taking this in that direction. ]

Never, if I can help it. [Her glance is casual, but she wonders, Dean. Sam's version of you was alcoholic enough.] It's far more fun to drink everyone else under the table. Where I come from, passing out in a bar will probably get you press-ganged.

[ C'mon, which version of Dean isn't a functioning alcoholic. ]

I'm thinking there might be worse fates than that, but what do I know.

[She begins to suspect it's a multiversal trait of yours. The glance is a shade cooler before she finishes her own drink, though her words are friendly enough. He doesn't know, and seems both Deans have a habit of sticking their foot in it.]

I'm sure there are. There usually are worse fates than most things you could think of. Doesn't make it any more pleasant.

[ At least Dean never really means to stick his foot in it, unless he truly and utterly dislikes someone. And even then, it's generally just a dickbag move. In this case, he just doesn't think he's said much of anything at all. It doesn't help that this is such an extension of how much he usually speaks that he's reaching a bit, making him that much more inclined to say the wrong thing. ]

'Course not. Not that i'd know.

No. I don't suppose there's still much call for that kind of thing in your world.

[There's a subdued tone there. What's left of it. She pours another drink.]

[ Aaaand Dean is starting to get the message that he fucked up somewhere along the way here. He's not entirely sure what he's done, but he's gotten good enough at reading people that he knows he's managed to screw up something. And really, it wasn't his intention - he thought he was doing fairly well with this.

Apparently not.

And so he might as well do what he does best: vacate the situation. ]

How much do I owe you?

[She gives him a surprised look, though she changes it to a faint grin.] Leaving already, huh? Ten for the drinks. Here. [She puts the one she just poured in front of him.] This one's free, though I guess you're drinking and running now.

[There's a breakdown in communication here, she thinks. Or he's taking off because she referenced where he came from and doesn't want to talk about it. Either way.]

Guess I can stay long enough to finish this one.

[ Though it still makes him nervous, feeling like he's done something wrong that he can't uncover. Usually when he says something stupid, there's someone there to point it out, to grin and prod him in the elbows, to scoff and glower in his direction. Because as much as Dean no longer knows how to deal with people, he still expects their presence in the smallest of ways. He can't truly disconnect, even when he's dead behind the eyes. Even when it's all broken.

He just doesn't know what it was he did wrong, and so he figures he'll play the safe route until he's done pounding down this beer. Tread water until he can get back to the safety of what he knows. ]

No rush on leaving. Well-- maybe there is. If you've got places to get to.

[It's the only way she can maybe reassure he doesn't have to flee on her account. She's got other customers, she can give him space if that's what he needs. Lord knows Max has given her ample practice at giving damaged individuals their space.]

Around here?

[ Dean just manages to look utterly skeptical - does anyone around here really have places to get to? He's fairly sure that they're all just meandering around looking for things to do with all their free time. Or that's how he feels about himself, at the very least.

It's a wonder he hasn't truly lost his shit yet. ]

I don't know. You might have some walls to paint or something. Cracks to stare at. That kind of stuff.

[Yeah, she feels you. It's why she took on bartending in the first place, it's something to do.]

What do you do with your free time?

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