You can check out anytime you'd like.. [Hotel Corona Mingle]

[thespaceopera]

Who: The Fleet!
Broadcast: If you want
Action: Hotel Corona or Planet Ikke
When: December 7th onward



[After the mystery and isolation of their last destination, the Marsiva seems determined to head to brighter, busier territory. After a long journey through remote, nebula-painted space, speeding along at a brisk pace for the Host ship, the Marsiva brings her Fleet to a sudden and prominent point of traffic.

It seems that the Fleet has happened upon some sort of vacation destination! Maybe Atroma thinks that the passengers deserve some rest and relaxation... or just wants to distract them with something huge and shiny.

Welcome to Hotel Corona! Feel free to enjoy yourselves and enjoy the sites! If a hotel resort isn't your thing, you can head on over to the nearby planet and explore it's icy wonders.

In order words: it's a mingle!! Everyone get in! ]

[>> Plot Post]

Comments

[scanninggaydis]

Just the mundane horrors, so far. I'd been so sure that I'd put retail way behind me, you know.

[He answers that smirk with one of his own, though it's subtle. His statement is also accompanied by a small eyeroll.

Though he's acting at nonchalance pretty well, his gaze drifts between the stars outside and Eugene's face a decent amount. Trying to figure out his mental state as much as he can.]

Guess they didn't really need the services of a scientist or a tactician. But hey, money is money, right?

[survivalistcookbook]

That it is.

[Eugene knows he can idle through a two-layered conversation. Compressing things down, dragging to the surface the things he can let go unsaid for months, years - that's never been his strength in any kind of relationship. Felix is watching him, and he's watching Felix right back, and they both have plenty of small talk to cruise through.

Maybe he would even want to keep doing it, if the thought of months, years, hadn't been itching at him lately. But it has been, prickling and maddening as the occasional roil of paresthesias through bones and tendons that haven't been a part of him for years. He curls his fist against his thigh the exact same way he does when that sensation twists through a long-severed nerve, uncurls it deliberately, enough of a refocusing to remember at least one thing that isn't completely superficial bullshit.]

Anyway, sorry for running you down back there. Are you okay?

[scanninggaydis]

Yeah, no bruises or anything.

[...Probably. He hasn't actually checked. But he's going to assume. And even if there were, it's not that important.

Because Felix is watching, he doesn't miss that fist. He can't be sure exactly what it means but it looks like tension and the deliberate release of it. Not that it's any great mystery that something is bothering Eugene.

Felix crosses his arms over his chest, and then drops the stance a few seconds later. He's still going for studied nonchalance but he doesn't want to seem actually unwelcoming. And then he goes for it, albeit with a casual air. Time for a second pass at the real issue.]

How about you? Everything good?

[survivalistcookbook]

[Felix doesn't exactly do gentle, and for that, Eugene's endlessly grateful. The closest he gets is cautious, which is a language he speaks much more easily, and one that takes away all his temptation to shoulder away the question.

He looks down at his shoe, then snorts, glancing up haplessly.]

For given values of 'good'? Yeah. [That's infuriatingly vague, and he lets the desire to keep his big mouth shut fight his desire not to be a sympathy-baiting asshole. The second shame wins out, and he looks back out at space, itching at the angle of his jaw.]

So . . . fun story. I got married a few months before they brought me here.

[scanninggaydis]

[It's kind of a small blessing that Eugene looks away as he admits that (though there's always the chance that he can see Felix's face reflected in the glass). The second thing that flits across his face is an expression of sympathy, but the first is...recognition. Familiarity.

This issue. Felix has done this before. He remembers how long it took for Eugene to even say Jack's name. That time after Jack came and went and Eugene was a mess. Understandably. He's not even sure he was particularly good at this the first time but like hell that's going to keep him from trying a second time.]

Ah. Congratulations?

[Since Eugene's tone is still vaguely casual, that's the way he chooses to keep responding. There's a wry smile on his face though. Because, obviously, this isn't exactly about good things.]

[survivalistcookbook]

Thanks.

[It's a snort as much as a word, Eugene giving an answering smirk the moment he's glanced back and registered the look on Felix's face. Right, weird place to start explaining himself, but he's grasping for any way to lay this out, any way at all, that doesn't make him look absolutely pathetic.]

Anyway. I know I'm not the only person here who's lost someone. [That old chestnut, so many times over his tongue that the words are worn smooth. The sentiment is cold comfort that soothes what comes after, leaving him stubbornly dry-eyed and watching the stars.] But I'm finally getting the picture, that I'm never going to see him again. And it hits at weird moments.

[scanninggaydis]

...For what it's worth, I don't think it's going to be "never".

[There's that cautiousness again, the way he responds slightly less casual than before. It's just, he's not great at all this. He means to be comforting, reassuring, but there's an excellent chance he's just going to say the wrong thing.

Maybe it's easier for Eugene to just accept "never".]

I mean. In my experience, you'll get to go home eventually.