Nami (
namisan) wrote in
driftfleet2016-06-20 05:35 am
Entry tags:
Calling Chefs and Bartenders and ... Doctors. Probably.
Who: Nami and anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bloodsport, Iskaulit
When: Today
[She wakes up feeling odd. Can't quite place it. Her clothes hang a little more loosely when she puts them on, and Nami makes a face. She's been run off her feet way too much lately. Which means... now is probably a good time to make that call she's been putting off, with certain bffs turning into crazed Stepford wives. :|]
[Video]
Malum isn't the only place that's short-staffed. The Space Bar could do with at least one more bartender, maybe two. We definitely need a chef, so if you're interested in earning some more cash and all the free drinks you want, basically the same deal applies! I'll be at the bar all day, so if you're interested, come in and say so.
[She could probably have put more effort into that, but she's too tired. Blagh. Oh wait, an addendum:]
Within reason, by the way. If you're some kind of demigod with a limitless appetite for alcohol I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to limit you on your free consumption.
[This is not hypocritical at all, given her own tolerance. But hey. Basically if you can outdrink Nami, you... probably shouldn't get all the free beer you want or you'll put her out of business.
Now excuse her as she yawns off to work.]
-----
[For the afternoon she's fine, even if she has to cinch her cute saloon dress in another tiny bit. She has lost weight. There's a vague resolution of taking a couple days off and stuffing her face once she has more than one other staff member (and Fenris could probably do with the option of more time off besides), and she just gets on with it. If you come into the bar in the afternoon she'll be her usual self, serving drinks and talking to potential employees or crammed in a corner on a break with a sandwich and a pack of cards.
Evening hits, and so does exhaustion. She slows down, occasionally gets distracted staring into space, and there's a light flush on her face that isn't from drinking. It's only a few hours on that she has to squint to focus, and Nami acknowledges that, okay, she might be coming down with something, and maybe she left looking for staff a little too long. But she keeps working, until either the bar closes or someone well-meaning chases her out of the bar. Buuut if you do that, you better be prepared to cover for the rest of the night, gosh.
...
...
...
Either way, by the time she leaves the bar and starts heading for the shuttle bay, her face is flush with fever to the point that the tips of her ears are turning red, and all her joints ache.
This feels familiar.
...it's probably just the flu.
She travels the hallways down to the shuttle bay, leaning on the walls to get her balance back, and manages to make it all the way down to the Bloodsport's shuttle, getting the hatch open, before she just... slides down its side to her knees, closing her eyes. She should probably get back to her ship and get a doctor's opinion.
Orrr maybe she'll just... pass out. Right here.
Sounds good.]
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bloodsport, Iskaulit
When: Today
[She wakes up feeling odd. Can't quite place it. Her clothes hang a little more loosely when she puts them on, and Nami makes a face. She's been run off her feet way too much lately. Which means... now is probably a good time to make that call she's been putting off, with certain bffs turning into crazed Stepford wives. :|]
[Video]
Malum isn't the only place that's short-staffed. The Space Bar could do with at least one more bartender, maybe two. We definitely need a chef, so if you're interested in earning some more cash and all the free drinks you want, basically the same deal applies! I'll be at the bar all day, so if you're interested, come in and say so.
[She could probably have put more effort into that, but she's too tired. Blagh. Oh wait, an addendum:]
Within reason, by the way. If you're some kind of demigod with a limitless appetite for alcohol I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have to limit you on your free consumption.
[This is not hypocritical at all, given her own tolerance. But hey. Basically if you can outdrink Nami, you... probably shouldn't get all the free beer you want or you'll put her out of business.
Now excuse her as she yawns off to work.]
-----
[For the afternoon she's fine, even if she has to cinch her cute saloon dress in another tiny bit. She has lost weight. There's a vague resolution of taking a couple days off and stuffing her face once she has more than one other staff member (and Fenris could probably do with the option of more time off besides), and she just gets on with it. If you come into the bar in the afternoon she'll be her usual self, serving drinks and talking to potential employees or crammed in a corner on a break with a sandwich and a pack of cards.
Evening hits, and so does exhaustion. She slows down, occasionally gets distracted staring into space, and there's a light flush on her face that isn't from drinking. It's only a few hours on that she has to squint to focus, and Nami acknowledges that, okay, she might be coming down with something, and maybe she left looking for staff a little too long. But she keeps working, until either the bar closes or someone well-meaning chases her out of the bar. Buuut if you do that, you better be prepared to cover for the rest of the night, gosh.
...
...
...
Either way, by the time she leaves the bar and starts heading for the shuttle bay, her face is flush with fever to the point that the tips of her ears are turning red, and all her joints ache.
This feels familiar.
...it's probably just the flu.
She travels the hallways down to the shuttle bay, leaning on the walls to get her balance back, and manages to make it all the way down to the Bloodsport's shuttle, getting the hatch open, before she just... slides down its side to her knees, closing her eyes. She should probably get back to her ship and get a doctor's opinion.
Orrr maybe she'll just... pass out. Right here.
Sounds good.]

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No, I barely went there. Hated it. Ah... nice to meet you too. [Sure, why not. Makes sense.]
Haven't met any floating triangles before. Guess there's a first for everything.
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[He doffs his little hat, like a gentleman.]
I MISSED IT COMPLETELY. JUST GOT HERE! LET ME TELL YOU, WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO FALL ASLEEP SO I COULD TALK TO THEM'S BEEN A CHORE!
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Welcome to the Fleet, then. [She rubs at her face.] You can't talk to people when they're awake? That sounds annoying.
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[If the fabric of Nami's dreamscape here cooperates, he's just going to snap his fingers and conjure them both some brightly-colored beach chairs and Mai Tais garnished with little umbrellas.]
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You're a guy after my own tastes. May I? [Because the inference is yes, but it's always polite to ask anyway before you sit down on someone else's magical chairs.]
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[Bill's chair is sized like a chair for a doll although it's otherwise identical to Nami's, and he wastes no time in settling into it with a happy sigh.]
I BET YOU DON'T GET A LOT OF SUN AND SAND LIVING IN SPACE!
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[It sucks, mystery triangle guy.]
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Case in point: he makes his little chair float up off of the sand to a better altitude for conversation, with him on it.]
NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF THE UNIVERSE IS UNBEARABLY BORING! LIFELESS VOID! DON'T KNOW WHY SOMEONE WOULD SET A TELEVISION SHOW IN IT.
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[She approves of this umbrella. But not as much as she approves of the drink. Tucking the umbrella behind one ear and taking a sip. Wonder if she can get drunk in dreams?]
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OHO! ADVENTURE, HUH? GO ON A COUPLE OF YOUR OWN? I'M MORE OF A MISSION CONTROL GUY MYSELF...
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[Jerk. Just once he could take the safe route, but nooo.]
So what are you mission control of?
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[Bill sips at his drink thoughtfully. His eyelids momentarily become a mouth to accomplish this; it is 100% as weird as it sounds.]
SOUNDS LIKE YOU NEED A PROMOTION! USUALLY THE ONE THAT GETS THE GROUP OUT OF TROUBLE IS THE LEADER WHERE I'M FROM!
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Uh.
[Whatever her response, it's been derailed as she stares at that drinking feat. It's a dream, but that was bizarre. What was he--]
Ah. Well, Luffy gets stuff done. I could do a lot worse for a Captain. [She has, in the past. Twice.] And I get a lot out of it, so I guess I just have to take the bad side with the good.
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[Haha, she's distracted by his totally normal eye-mouth. Humans, amirite? Bill bats his restored eyelashes innocently, like he has no idea what he just did was odd.]
HEY, BUT YOU'VE GOTTA BE A CAPTAIN HERE, RIGHT?
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And yeah, actually. [She snorts at that.] I'm Captain of the Bloodsport. But that kinda gets chosen by drawing lots, from what I gather.
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[Blood is so weird! Imagine being full of fluid, all the time!]
WHAT'S A CAPTAIN DO AROUND HERE? KNOCK HEADS AROUND? TALK TO THE ATROMA?
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Precious little, apparently. Keep order on their ship. Be the voice of reason if people aren't sure what to do. It's not like we can go anywhere or do anything we choose.
[It's an empty gesture, more or less.]
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You know. A fleet on the actual ocean or something. Or better yet, not being kidnapped at all.
no subject
[Bill takes another long drink from his glass and spins his finger over the top of it; it immediately refills.]
IF WE WERE ON A BOAT, WE'D ALL BE IN THE SAME ONE, RIGHT?
no subject
Depends on the size of the ship. The whole fleet could probably fit on a galleon, no trouble.
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JUST AN EXPRESSION, IN THIS CASE! MEANS I CAN LEND A HAND IF IT'S SOMETHING YOU'D BE INTERESTED IN!
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You'd be right. And I'm always interested in hand-lending. But what do you get out of it?
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