driftfleet | Video. the ramblings of a drunk british man.

Who: Jarvis and you, valentine. ;)
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Tourist/Iskaulit, wherever you catch him
When: Valentine's Day of course!!!

[Jarvis here, ready to be — drunk? Perhaps just a little. He is actually doing a PSA whether he realizes it or not, looking disapprovingly at his wine glass. He's rosy-cheeked and his tie is the slightest bit crooked. Just the slightest. And he is currently abandoning his coat because it is clearly getting hot in the Tourist kitchen.]

Oh, myyyyy goodnessgracious, I think — I... Yes, the wrong bottle, this is... the wrong bottle. It's just a little purple...er than the other I was supposed to take from the shelf. I should have known better; I can't read —

[He looks intently at the liquor bottle, marked in alien writing that their augments certainly can't translate.]

I can't read this, period. I think I accidentally drank one of the more potent... bottles...

[... hiccup]

... Not the whole bottle, mind you, I'm not a barbarian.

Clearly two glasses is downright diabolical. I apologize, Miss Nami, I believe this is one of the newer imports. I will have to credit it out in take — ...take it out in credits. Goodness, it's warm in here. I'm going to go to the Iskaulit, since I fancy it cooler there... Cookies!! [Yes, that's as sudden as it seems, and he claps his hands together.] I'll make some cookies, because it is Valentine's Day, and cookies have to be made, and I haven't the supplies nor the mind-power for chocolate... anything, really. And I certainly have nothing to do on Valentine's Day, no sir — or ma'am. I am quite freed up by... by the light-years-away... -ness, of my predicament. Very much free to bake indeed. I don't mind at all. I — it's very... un-routine of me, to have no one to bake for on this particular date.

[He huffs.]

If you don't have a valentine, please stop by the Space Bar kitchen, I will have cookies so you can at least eat cookies. It's completely unnecessary to have a single valentine — it doesn't need to be a... lady or fellow you fancy, either. I'll have you know I made my classmates biscuits every year, save for — goodness, that time in... 1925...? When I came down with the flu. What a terrible February that was. I thought I'd gone — bubonic.

..... I'm talking quite a lot.

If you'll excuse me, I need my apron. Where did I put my...

[...... He's wandered off.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The local alcohol, wasn't it?

[He remembers the finer points of the broadcast, and will take note to steer clear of anything being sold on the planet. Erik raises his eyebrows at the comment, but takes a cookie all the same, the two rings he wears flashing on his fingers.]

I had heard it was strong, but it's always good to have proof.

[Even if it is a drunk chef.]

There is certainly proof in the pudding.

[haha i am so witty]

... In the cookies.

[BAH. He waves a hand. He tried. Instead he sticks said hand out.]

Now, proper introductions. Edwin Jarvis — though people just refer to me by Jarvis. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

[If there's booze in these cookies he honestly wouldn't be surprised. Erik sets the cookie aside so he can shake the proffered hand.]

Erik Lehnsherr, on the Heron.

[He blinks, then offers a pensive smile as he grips the hand and gives a firm shake before letting him go.]

... Lehnsherr. From Germany, or perhaps immigrant American?

[Now there's something that few pick up on around here. He has to snort a bit at the idea of being American though.]

Born in Germany, yes. I've stayed in America a number of times, over the years.

[Either unofficially or as a prisoner.]

[~~Erik love urself.~~]

I see. Are you from the future, then? Perhaps the 2000's?

It seems there's no short supply of future-goers here.

[~~He did once. It ended badly.~~]

I find that's a matter of perspective. I'm from 1983 ... for many, that's the past. For others it's the future. [Giving Jarvis a considering glance, he takes a bite of the cookie before continuing.] If you mentioned 1925, then I would guess it's the future for you.

1983...

Indeed, the future. I'm from 1947, actually. I suppose I'll catch up eventually, though.

[That would make sense, given the man's apparent age and his mention of classmates in 1925. Erik nods, familiar with the year. He was still a teenager himself back then, the camps not so far behind.]

Yes... given enough time. It doesn't become less strange, speaking to those from decades ahead of you.

Have you figured out a way to navigate the future conversation without fretting or thinking of dozens of questions you want to ask them?

[He shuts his eyes at the question, feeling the disconnect between Jarvis's concerns and his own. It's hard to worry about the future when he's already worked to prevent a terrible one from happening.]

In most cases, remembering they're from entirely different worlds and universes helps.

[Oh.]

Unfortunately not the case for me, so that isn't much of a solution on my part.

Do you run into this problem often?

Not anymore.

You're here with others from your own world then.

Indeed, that's the case.

They're from my universe — but simply far ahead.

... Over sixty years ahead, actually.

[He hums with understanding, taking another bite of the cookie. That is something he does have experience with - but not in the way Jarvis does. He had never been conversational with Logan, and the man had only been in their time for a handful of days. And then, Erik supposes, he ceased to exist. He hadn't bothered to find out whether he survived being thrown out of the stadium.]

I have been in a similar situation, only it was back home. There was really no time to navigate particular conversations. My only suggestion would be not to ask anything you might dread the answer to, if it isn't necessary.

[Even that is hard to determine. You could ask an innocuous question and the answer could be unexpectedly devastating. His expression grows pinched for a moment as he wonders if the Magneto of that terrible future ever met Magda, or had Nina. Whether their lives had been different. He stamps down on the thought.]

So I've been learning. I'm woefully curious by nature, but I've managed decently enough.

... How are the biscuits?

[Are you gonna eat some of those cookies sir. Don't waste them now.]

[He's halfway through one, sir, that's plenty. Erik cuts him a glance, with the remainder of the cookie still in hand.]

They're well-made.

[This isn't a guy who knows how to rate cookies.]

[Chef-cum-butler senses tingling.

He rubs his chin, thoughtful.]

.... You're not too fond.

Is there a different baked good you prefer?

I'm not overly fond of sweets. Baked breads, I suppose.

[As much as he relishes baking cakes and other items at times, he usually doesn't eat them himself. A fact that's netted him a fair share of teasing over the years, but not one anyone tries to talk him out of.]

Oh, excellent. What sort of breads, then?

I can do my best to replicate them.

[Erik lowers the half-eaten cookie back to the countertop, and fixes Jarvis with a harder look.]

You are not making bread for me.

[He looks confused, for a moment. So thrown off.]

Why the dickens not? I make a good loaf.

Because I said no. If I want bread I'll make it myself.

[He's lingered here long enough, considering he just wanted to see if Jarvis was burning a kitchen down. Pushing away from the counter, he intends to leave.]

Mr. Lehnsherr!

[He waves him down a bit, trying to get his attention again despite his move to escape, and stands a bit straighter, more determined. His mind is -- albeit drunkenly -- seeking some sort of middle ground to agree upon. He sounds quite sure when he speaks up, brow furrowed.]

I shall expect you to leave some of your bread on my ship, then!

.... And I will send some of mine, as thanks.

[He does stop briefly, but judging from his expression he doesn't quite find the proposition an exciting one.]

Expectations don't always align with reality.

[And then he's gone.]

(no subject)

edwinjarvis - 2017-02-28 10:51 (UTC) - Expand