multiversallogs | open post ● we're about to get up and burn this floor

Who: Everyone.
What: The Grand Re-Opening of the Gravity Falls Station.
Where: Babylon.
When: Veerdi to Sukkardi.
Notes: Party post!!! Go nuts y'all.
Warnings: Probable alcohol (and drug?) use. Flag stuff in subject titles if it needs a warning and I'll edit it up in here.

It's clear from the first moment anyone even gets on the Skyrail tonight that the Stratosphere Entertainment Group's pricey investment is going to pay off - every rail car is crowded with people decked out and excited for the event. To natives of Baedal, the idea of a holiday is days off work, maybe some camping - escape is alien, a little frightening, and completely thrilling. Even when the Gravity Falls station had hosted other venues, it was nothing so ambitious as to capture the imaginations of the city as a whole. And to immigrants to the city who no longer have the luxury of even simple trips out of town - well, it's priceless. A bittersweet but suddenly vital excursion.

Doors open just as the sun begins to set, the light reflecting off the water of the ocean illuminating the great floating platform as if the entire sky was on fire, before slipping into deep purple then black, the ceiling of their experience dotted with brilliant stars. Staff members wrangling the hazards of the first night are anxious but excited, kind and helpful even if they end up frazzled by the overwhelming turnout. There is security, all sporting neon purple shirts with lion logos, but even by their own admission, they're only there to breakup fights - and even they're smiling all night, too.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I don't mind. I'm actually not very, um, practiced at this sort of thing. What do people usually talk about in nightclubs?" In some parts, not much of anything, based on the level of the music.

He shrugs, an easy gesture. "Not much. Either they're drinking and complaining, or drinking and trying to pick up a date for the night, or dancing and trying to accomplish the same. Sometimes they're dancing because they enjoy it."

"The last part sounds the least complicated," she observes, sipping her drink. "Did you come intending to pick up a date?"

It's shameless, but it's not coy. She's just curious.

Jim lets out a laugh, as startled by and appreciative of her directness as he is amused by the question.

"No, I didn't," he admits. "There was a time when I devoted a lot of time to that, but not anymore. It's not really a priority for me these days."

"What changed?" She's going to be nosy as long as he lets her.

A faint smile tugs at his lips; no one's ever been so direct but he doesn't mind explaining. "I guess my priorities changed as I got older," he has the nerve to say, like he doesn't still look like the troublemaking kid Pike challenged in a bar. "I didn't have a lot of direction or satisfaction with my life before, so I was chasing guys, chasing girls, drinking, trying to find something to fill the void. Not that there's anything wrong with choosing to live that kind of life," he adds, "if it's for you, and sometimes part of me even misses it. But I enlisted, and the Academy took up my time, though I still dated. And once I was commissioned and got my own command, there wasn't time. The job comes first."

He takes another sip of his drink, thoughtful. And then--it's hard to say if it's because he's already opened up that much, or if the weird blue drink that tastes like popsicles loosened his lips, or if it's just one of those moments where something you've been holding inside for a long time finds its way out:

"...And for a while, there was someone. Someone who meant the world to me, who changed me. But I never got my act together and I never figured out how to tell him how I felt, and now I'll never have the chance. I guess I'm still..."

He shrugs, but with his hands, not his shoulders. Still figuring it out. Still trying to get over it. Still hurting, still full of regret. Maybe that's what he's trying to convey, he's really not sure.

Clarice softens, a little. He's been more honest with her than she probably deserves, as someone who's never met him before, but she can see there's real regret there. She's not one to generally let her own guard down much, even with people she knows well, but he gave her a genuine answer that deserves a real response.

"I'm sorry. I know what you mean - about someone who changes you. It makes it hard to... When you know you won't see them again, it's easy for other people to say it's healthier to grieve and move on, but it isn't only the person you lost. It's about knowing that anyone new could be lost too. That nothing's guaranteed."

She can't help but think of the people she'll never see again. Not just Ahmyor, which is how she'll always think of him now, but of the others. Sydney. Rogue. Mr. Creed. ...her real parents, on her darkest days.

He nods. "Yeah. It takes away your sense of hope, too. That's what keeps you going sometimes, that idea of what if or maybe someday. But losing someone like that..."

He can't quite bring himself to say the words, but the way he feels, he's just not sure he can maybe someday with someone else now. Not when the wound is still so fresh.

"That's one of the terrible things about this place. The way it separates people from the people they need."

"Some people get home, though, I hear." She doesn't want to hit a sensitive spot; after all, she can't go home. But she's not sure if it's something he might view as possible. She doesn't quite make it a question.

"They do," he confirms. "He did. My friend."

"You don't think it's possible you will?"

"I don't know," Jim admits. "He came and went twice. I've been here a year, now." It feels like he'll never go home.

"I guess you can't count on going, either way. You have to try and make it work here as long as you're here. However long or short that is." You couldn't live a life waiting for something that might or might not happen.

He's quiet a moment, and then he smiles, faint, almost wistful.

"I guess I'd lost sight of that. Thank you."

She returns the smile, a little more subdued but more genuine. "No problem. Easier to get perspective from outside, I guess."

He nods, thinking just how much he used to rely on Bones to be his outside opinion, his devil's advocate, his self-appointed arbiter of Jim, goddammit, that's stupid.

"Yeah. It is."

"Well. Now that I've pried into your personal life, I guess we could get another drink. Or dance, if you'd rather."

"I should warn you," he says, straightening up in his seat, his former good humor returning, "that I'm a terrible dancer. But I don't let that stop me."

She grins. "That's alright, I'm fast. I don't think you'll catch my feet, even if you try." Which he presumably... won't? That came out weird, but she shrugs it off. "I don't know any formal dances, though, I'm mainly for sort of jumping back and forth to something loud."

"Hey, no way!" He's full on grinning now, not even trying to hide the mischief in it. "That's exactly the way I dance! We'll be fine. You ready or you want another drink first?"

"Dance, I think. Maybe another drink after?" She's surprised herself by how much she likes his company in particular. It's been nice, having someone to talk to.

"I'd like that."

He rises to his feet, playfully offering his arm. "Shall we?"

open post ● we're about to get up and burn this floor

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