002 - Looks like a discoball and tastes like strawberries and dreams

[wolfuncaged]

Who: Fenris and you!
Broadcast: Video: Fleetwide
Action: Tourist.
When: Today. SPONSOR DROP for all characters who have started a romance aboard the Fleet



[Fenris had a very unsettled night, sleep wasn't the cards after his run in with Cole. Eventually, he does leave his armory to find breakfast. He goes by way of the cargo hold (just to check the horrible little wretch isn't lurking there) but instead finds a gift basket with his name on. Fenris can't read the rest of what's on it, but the gift basket is full of condoms, lubes and other sundries that only naked people will really have use for. Emblazoned on everything is Madame Gertrude's Pleasure Barn. Not only has Fenris been given one, but any character who have decided to indulge in a little romance, up to and including flirting has been sent one. The Fleet has got itself a sponsor. For today, at least.

Fenris is well aware what these things are (thanks, Exisilium) so it's with a largely bemused expression that he turns on his communicator, pointing at the...gift. ]

Please tell me that I'm not the only one who has been given one of these today. I suppose Atroma expects us to be grateful? Though it is roughly as subtle as a brick to the face.

Comments

video;

[unconfines]

[The details are hazy, with all this information flying around, but Anders has gathered that this is some kind of sex thing, and Fenris seems cagey about it, which makes it hilarious enough for him to lift his self-imposed moratorium, for the moment.

He has one stretched in front of his face so he can look at Fenris through the (extensive) ribbing.]

So many questions. One, are you grateful?

[wolfuncaged]

[Anders, don't do that. That's creepy and wrong. He pulls a face.]

Out of everyone here, do you think I would tell you anything?

[unconfines]

Not one for gossip, are you? Color me shocked.

[Could he lay the sarcasm on any thicker, maybe not. He lets the condom go, and it snaps smartly against his palm.]

Unfortunately for you, I am an insufferable gossip. And I am starting to think I'm quite grateful for this little basket of wonders. [He waves a wrapper at the device.] Did you know this one tastes like peaches? Who's ever thought that before— "this is great, but if only your naughty bits tasted like peaches."

[Is he your worst nightmare yet, Fenris.]

[wolfuncaged]

[This is absolutely his worst nightmare. ]

Well, clearly someone did think about it.

And please, don't let me stop you from taking your insufferable gossip elsewhere.

[unconfines]

Oh, no, I think I like this much better.

[Smug as sin, over here.]

Besides, Fenris—it is Fenris, isn't it?—you did ask. Wouldn't want to be rude.

[wolfuncaged]

[Anders you are being super creepy and he doesn't like it. ]

I didn't ask you, Anders. From now on, if I ask a question, assume it is never for you.

[unconfines]

You asked everyone. Or did you forget? If you don't want me to hear it, that's hardly my problem, now is it? I'll answer whatever I like.

[This time he shows Fenris a bottle.]

Any recommendations?

[wolfuncaged]

[He hates you so much. Flames. Flames on the side of his face.]

Then you cannot be surprised when you do not get the reception you so apparently desire.

Feel free to choke on it, if you'd like.

[forcemageure]

If I might just interrupt for a tiny minute.

[unconfines]

[Anders looks away from the screen, ostensibly to reach for his cat, sitting just outside the view of the camera. His smile hasn't dropped for one moment during this entire conversation, though it's hard to say if that remains true in the moment the feed isn't recording it.]

Please. We're all friends here.

[No we are not.]

[wolfuncaged]

You're not my friend, Anders.

[Ugh, but fine, he's listening, Hawke.]

[forcemageure]

Yes, I know when I think of my friends the first thing think of is "which bits are the most flammable?"

[ Actually, that's--shut up. ]

I'd like to borrow you, actually. [ This to Anders.

Then to Fenris, since he is kind of like a spectator at a tennis match played with knives, here: ]

That is assuming you two can bear to be parted with something other than a needlegun.

[ Look what being Security Officer is teaching him! Isn't it great? Yes. ]

[unconfines]

Is that what we're calling it.

[Deadpan as anything, as he perches his chin on one hand. He picks innocently through his basket with the other, lifting a bright blue wrapper to inspect.]

But— fine, if you insist. Fenris will just have to do without my delightful company for the moment.

[wolfuncaged]

[Ugh. Fenris isn't surprised, of course. Anders and Hawke were most definitely an item in his Thedas. He pulls a face.]

I will leave you to that.

[HE OUTIE!!! ]

[forcemageure]

[ It might have been possible to do this without inducing the urge to projectile vomit in Fenris, but given the choice between vomit or slaughter, well. Hawke sighs, peering at Anders' selection. ]

That looks like we're calling it 'blueberry,' actually.

[ We're just going to draw the blinds on this entire shameful event now. ]