driftfleet | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who: The fine crew of the SS Red Fish!
Broadcast: Probably not so much...
Action: You betcha.
When: Barely forward-dated to Halloween!

---

[welcome to the Red Fish, the ship that always looks ready for Halloween anyway.

while today is a popular Earth holiday, it's also Zhas' birthday, and he has probably mentioned it to everyone on board in an unsubtle way over the last few weeks. there are a hilarious number of jack-o-lanterns around the ship, showing off skull-face carvings of... varying quality. thanks, Syeira!

what's in store on this spooky night? HILARITY, probably.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[That stops him short. He's surprised that Zhas is even interested. And beyond that... he's not sure what to say.]

I... I'm a good shot. I can hit a moving target from a great distance away. 'M the best at research. I've got... I have the steadiest mind in the dream sharing business. 'M... smart. Got an architecture degree while in the army, and I know a lotta languages.

[He rubs his eyes like a sleepy and grumpy child.] I might be a bit too drunk to remember all my fine points.

[he does seem interested, even if he was being a huge dick about it just half-a-minute ago. leaning forward a little, tilting his empty cup against the table, thinking through the tipsy laundry-list that Arthur gives him.

it's a good list. there's a lot he didn't know, and wouldn't have guessed. at the very least, he's explaining to Zhas why having a positive relationship makes good strategic sense, but... if Zhas likes anything about Arthur, it's his confidence. the vampire hunter built up his entire persona on confidence before he even had any skill to back it up, so it's kind of a sticking point.

...so he lets Arthur rub his eyes for another moment or two before he asks:] Cuantos idiomas?

[He perks up at that, switching his brain over to Spanish mode.] Cinco. English, Spanish, French, Italian, and German.

[He puts his chin in his hand and his elbow on the table.]

¿Y tu?

[see, that he can get behind. he starts checking them off on his fingers, amused--but looking up as if he's having a little bit of trouble remembering them all.]

English, Spanish, French... Russian, German... [and then he wobbles his hand.] Arabic, sort of. Vietnamese, a little.

[he shakes his head a little, eyes now back down on his empty glass.] Enough to get around. Not writing any books or anything.

[Oh, that's... fantastic. He looks much happier with Zhas now.]

You travel a lot?

Have to. Comes with the work.

[he shrugs a little, but doesn't seem to mind. he may be a big lughead with a limited vocabulary... but when he puts his mind to it, apparently that vocabulary does him a lot of good.]

Home was in Ireland. S'almost another language.

[oh, he's... now looking through the bottom of his empty glass like a spyglass.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only