driftfleet | [ Open ] Catch-All: My Kind of Party

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[ Open ] Catch-All: My Kind of Party

Who: Jim Kirk & You!
Broadcast: Nope
Action: Yes, planet!
When: All Month Long

Turns out that they might have gotten a break this time around. Kirk is suspicious, but willing to let himself indulge while they can. When the breaks come, they should be enjoyed. He was quick to sign up with the Starstrikers, even tough the mascot was a little... meh. But hey, he wasn't here for mascots.

He was here to have some fun - and maybe take a few championship belts if he could, or some records. He would be okay with either.

a: spaceship races
Every kind of competition imaginable is available here, and that's never been more true than with the space ship races. Kirk hadn't been sure what to expect, but oh did his heart race when he saw what it really meant. Small passenger ships, meant for maybe four total crew, ranging in shape and color and size and all primed and geared to go as fast as possible through the designated course.

So much easier than trying to get the Enterprise to push past her mach limits and beat out Klingon war birds. And more fun.

He raced alone just fine, but if someone wanted to partner up in the cockpit he was for. For the observers and tag-a-longs, they would find that the captain was quite daring when it came to fitting through tight places or pulling maneuvers. Like rushing through an asteroid field and trying to edge out a lead by dodging through some tightly closing rocks...

"It'll fit! It'll fit!"

b: motorbike races
If he couldn't be racing past stars, racing motorbikes was the next best thing. It was certainly a lot more fun than the last time he had been on a motorbike. A lot less on the line, that was for sure. It took him a bit to get used to the mechanics of these machines, but once he figured it out, it wasn't to very different from back on Earth. The tracks were way more advanced, but hey, that wasn't so bad. He found the natural tracks better though, the ones that sent you racing through trees and over cliffs and dunes. He was at least relatively successful, winning more than he lost.

He was happy to have less official matches with anyone who wanted one, or take a drive just to enjoy the scenery. Just don't laugh at him in the official match suits. He only, kind of, chose these colors and it was better for the suits not to be to baggy. As proven when he crashed a few times. Even good racers have bad days, okay?

c: gambling
Everything can't be an adrenaline rush all the time, right? Or at least, not the same kind of rush. So Kirk whiles away some of the hours gambling. It's not often, but he participates now and then - usually in black jack or poker. He can't quite count cards, but he has good luck which could be just as useful when it came down to it.

He switches between tables and games at intervals when he is there, never sticking to any one thing for to long. Maybe he bumps you on the way to a new table or game, nodding his head in that direction.

"You in?"

d: hand-to-hand combat
Star Fleet might push for peace, but that didn't mean that its people didn't know how to hold their own in a fight. The universe wasn't always a very kind place, after all, and Kirk had never been a stranger to a fight or two. Usually in bars, but hey, he had been smoothed around the edges. The truth was that he liked the challenge, the unpredictability of close-up combat with another person, and it took off some of the edge. That, and he was always interested in new techniques from new cultures.

He avoided the gladiator style rings and kept to the smaller matches. The upgrades from Atroma came in handy - he could take a hit a lot better now, and give one back. He would almost call it cheating it some of his opponents didn't have an even bigger weight advantage on him. Free-for-all and round-robin styles literally meant just that, it seemed. More often than not he came out of the ring with bruises, and a cut here or there, but nothing very serious that a bandaid and a shot of whiskey couldn't fix.

And if he's fighting someone from the Fleet? Well, don't expect him to hold back.

"Hit me with your best shot."

e: smile for the camera
Kirk is used to being one of two things - the golden boy, or the pain in the neck. It tends to waver between the two, but given the number of feats he has under his belt, he's more used to the latter than the former. He seemed to have a fairly even balance here on the planet, decked in his Starstrikers jacket - all he would allow himself of the branding so long as he could manage it. He was not going to be a walking advertisement, thank you.

If someone wanted a picture, or an autograph, he would give it, though he honestly seemed a little taken aback and flustered by that. But hey, whatever the people want, right? Of course the opposite could be true. Opposing teams or just fans who didn't like he had beaten out their favorite player could get in his face, which Kirk wasn't to afraid to get back into either. Definitely Starstriker material.

So why is that he looks so confused when he gets off his phone one day, fresh coffee in hand (oh god, fresh, delicious coffee).

"When did I get an agent?"

f: wild card!
You can find Jim enjoying the other pleasures the planets have to offers besides rousing competition such as:
- a sunny day at the beach
- shopping for new clothes or books
- trying out the local foods and bars
- spectating at sports
- probably getting into bar fights somewhere
- anything you can think of!

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Why is it that he always ends up with the difficult ones who don’t respond to authority well? Surely not because he was very much the same, no sir. As it was he didn’t try to be authoritative, just a leader and a good one.

“It’s a big forest. Who knows how long it would take me to find you,” he shrugged, leaning in the bars of his bike, shaking his head at the offered cigarette. “Though i can’t say how much more time that’ll buy you.”

"Don't need long." It's hard to say whether he actively shrugs or if it's a byproduct of putting the pack away. It's a good answer, they're more or less on the same wavelength. No hurry. He's not gonna be a dick about it, he just doesn't wanna rush. He always did intend to bring the bike back... Sooner or later.

"Guess I ain't gonna win." What a shocker. "Think they'll buy it if I say I got lost?"

"Considering the race path was marked, no," Kirk remarked dryly. "But we can probably say you had some trouble with it, which is why you were out so long. I just won't tell them exactly where I found you."

He leaned back up, stretching his arms above his head and arching back, groaning as he stretched.

"Tell you what though, since I won I'll buy you a drink, how about that?"

Sounds reasonable, and probably nicer than he'd get if he'd just eventually gone back without an excuse. He can appreciate when someone does him a solid.

"Deal." Obviously, because he's not doing much except agreeing to head back soon. Which he'd have to do no matter what; there's really only so long he wants to be out of contact, anyway. A little space has been good for him, though. This spot suits him better than the competition crowds or the bustling cities; it's not much like home, but that's not a bad thing, either.

"Congrats, I guess," he adds. Seems polite, even if he feels weird about it.

Kirk could understand wanting to be away from cities. He had grown up on a farm, and while the memories of that place are rather salty, at best, he had good ones too. There was a peace to be found there, in the quietness of it. He loved getting to explore new planets like this, with their new vegetation and new secrets. Cities were well and good, but every now and then breathing in the quiet was good too.

"Heh, thanks. Should have been there earlier - free drinks," he teased, taking his helmet and sliding it back on. "Ready? Don't want to get caught to long in the dark out here either. And when we get back, let me do the talking. Hopefully they buy it and we can get those drinks without extra paperwork."

Back when it mattered, Daryl had been more of a small town kind of guy-- more comfortable anyway out in the woods. Now there aren't cities left. You get used to life without crowds, and the truth is now mistrust is so ingrained in him, it's hard to manage keeping a wary eye on so many at once,

Taking a final drag off his cigarette, he grinds the butt into the dirt and stretches, settling back on the bike.

"Sure." Suits him just fine, Daryl isn't a big talker. He nods, then turns the key, the low growl of the motor declaring his readiness. Lead on, captain.

Kirk didn't rush to get back to the organizers, but he did take a few daring turns - just because. They made it back before dark had fully come on, the organizers huffing angrily as they pulled up. As promised, Kirk did the talking, and after apologizing, explaining the situation, and a subtle threat of letting it slip that the organizers had provided one of their riders with a less than acceptable bike for the race, the men were shooed away back towards the glittering city.

Stretching again, Kirk looked over at Darly as they walked. "Want to hit one of the dive bars? I've found a few along the edges if you aren't afraid to go down a couple of the less clean streets."

It's definitely not the tactic Daryl would have tried-- for the best, maybe. He'd have just shrugged off the complaining and left without giving a damn about who he pissed off.

The question gets a little huff of a laugh. He's way more comfortable in the out of the way places.

"Sure."

It's been years since going to a dive bar was an option. Maybe civilization isn't so bad.

"You been on the ships long?"

"About two years or so, a bit more now I think," he said as they walked, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Try not to keep track of time to, to much, but usually mark the years when they roll around."

They moved into the darker parts of the town, which wasn't saying to much all things considered, but there was less distraction, less signs cajoling you to come this way and that and more just stating what was there, come or don't, and if it's done then move along real quick. Kirk was angling them towards one with a neon sign in the window and little else, though through the windows the interior seemed pleasantly dim with tvs going and people either alone or in small pairs around tables and booths, chatting, a few playing a version of pool in the back corner.

Dive bar, as promised.

"It makes me a middle veteran, sort of. There's a few that have been here longer than me."

Being anywhere so populous and... well, alive, it's been kind of a lot to get used to-- which is exactly why he more-or-less stole a bike to ride off into the semi-wilderness. This is better, though-- heading somewhere quieter suits him. You could almost imagine it's back home, if not for the occasional reptilian swimmer walking by on the way to a race.

"Guess you're used to all this."

Thank goodness bars are apparently universal. If he couldn't just order a space beer, he'd be lost.

"Which part? Space in general or being a captive of a roving fleet?" he shoved open the door, which stuck a little, but that somehow added to the authenticity of the place too. He held it for Daryl and looked around before nodded towards a table in the middle back, meandering through the crowd and taking a seat, draping his branding jacket across the back. It wasn't out of place either - everyone wore their team's colors in some form or fashion here, only a few seemingly bare.

"I was used to space before coming here. I was captain of a space ship back home, though I could choose where I wanted to go instead of being tugged along," he popped up the menu from the table, selecting a type of beer for himself. "But yeah, after a couple years here, it's just all par for the course. You seem to be taking it well."

"Not so sure about that."

Then again, he hasn't actually broken anything or started an interplanetary incident, just swore a bit at the first handful of people he met and borrowed sporting equipment a little too long. So maybe he's not doing that badly.

"Got nothin' like this back home."

He picks his own beer-- easy, because he's not picky, because it's still a novelty to have choices-- and nods after placing his order.

"Space travel, I mean." They had reality shows, once upon a time.

"Yeah? Again, you seem to be taking it pretty well," he added an order of some bar snacks, hungry after all that biking and sweet talking his way out of trouble. He ordered enough for the both of them, too. "Which isn't a complaint, by the way. Prefer taking it well to freaking out." He settled back into his chair, stretching out his legs beneath the table. "Do you have anyone you know where on the Fleet?"

Watch out, Kirk, enough is a relative term. Daryl eats like a horse. A particularly ravenous horse, really.

But he'll behave himself.

"Yeah. Other ships." He pauses, still a little uneasy about the whole business. "They been here a while, they said."

Well luckily he had the credits for it, so if Daryl wanted more, Kirk wasn't going to complain. Just try and rein it in on the ships where their options were a bit less plentiful.

"Not to surprised," Kirk said, nodding to the man who brought over their drinks. He sipped from the bottle, enjoying that the beer here had a more citrus tongue and less of a sour after taste. "I've been here roughly two and half years myself. But that's good - someone from your world being here. Unless you don't get on with them?"

He nods, but that's really not enough of an answer. By nature, he's not a big talker-- still. He's been trying to make an effort to get along with the people here. The Fleet, they're all stuck.

"It's good," he agrees. They're like family-- but that's a little more explaining than he wants to manage. "You know Carl and Maggie?"

Maybe, maybe not, but people chat, ship to ship.

Kirk was fine with someone who didn't talk much. Some people just didn't have the gift of gab, and that was fine.

"I've probably heard of them, but I don't think I've talked to them much," Kirk admitted. For all they were a small group, they were also fairly large in ways and he still didn't know everyone on the Fleet. It was hard to do as people came and went so often. "But two - that's good." He paused. "Are they both on the same ship? If you wanted to transfer to be closer to them, I wouldn't fault you for it."

"Nah. All spread out."

And there's Carol, but she's nearly as new as he is, he doesn't figure Kirk's as likely to know her.

"It's all right." Even if he'd be more comfortable around family than strangers, there are advantages either way-- and it'd feel weird picking between everyone, if they're not all in the same place.

"You got folks from home?"

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[ Open ] Catch-All: My Kind of Party

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