multiversallogs | It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife

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It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

Who: EVERYONE
What: Réjean has decided that more people ought to celebrate and help raise a bit of dosh for one of his favourite bars. See: flyer.
Where: The Apache.
When: Misdi night and into the wee hours of the morning.
Warnings: Discussion of Pickman's manky feet.

The Apache is much the same as it always is: dimly lit, with the jukebox playing in the background, and the bartender serving whatever's on tap. Tonight, the bar is packed with people from all across the city, different cantons and cohorts, all out to celebrate surviving the fungal plague. Patrons are encouraged to buy tickets for a door prize with the proceeds going to repair the damage tunnelling ants made to the cellar.

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"I already told you about last time. Or did you forget, in all the excitement?" He keeps his tone and expression pleasant, but takes another drink to keep from becoming less so. It is important to play nice.

Jim thinks a moment. "Yes," he admits. "I must have. I apologize. It was a busy day and I think I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around everything that's gone on."

He smirks, and waves his hand, dismissively. "Oh, at least you'll admit it. I suppose I shouldn't fault you for that." But he totally will. Time to talk about things other than escape plans and the state of the city.

"So, you have a ship. How awesome is it?"

"Very," Jim says at once, his pride and admiration clear. "She's the Federation's flagship. I've had her just a few months."

Pause. And maybe his bright smile loses just a hint of its warmth. "I hope I get back to her."

Now that is impressive. Eddie nods, thoughtfully. He can relate to wanting to get back to that sort of accomplishment and source of pride, and it's not anywhere close enough to his own areas of expertise to be threatening to his own ego. So, Jim now has his sympathy.

"I understand," he says. "But, it's a good challenge."

"It is," Jim agrees. The man doesn't know how to back down from a challenge, even if it's one he wishes he wasn't facing. He'll take this one on, too. He'll get back to his ship somehow, back to those challenges.

He nods again, grinning now. "But, since you do have a Federation flag ship, that obligates you to telling a story about the most interesting place you've gone, so far. The most interesting that you are willing to tell, anyway." Pretty please?

Jim hums, thoughtful, turning so he's half-leaning against the bar. "I--" he starts. And stops. And frowns a moment before breaking into a sheepish smile.

"It may not wind up being the most interesting place to anyone but me. I wish I had a lot of amazing stories of amazing places but I've had my ship just a couple of months. Right before I became captain, though, I was briefly marooned on a planet named Delta Vega."

He sips from his beer, warming up to the tale. "I was pitched off the ship for mutiny--which was an unfair charge, by the way. It was maybe insubordination. Ejecting me from the ship was uncalled for. Anyway. It was this cold, frozen, pretty inhospitable place, but there was a Starfleet outpost there. I got chased by a monster, who was eaten by a bigger monster, which then chased me. Into a cave. Where it was run off by the future version of the first office who had kicked me off my ship in the first place."

He shrugs. Crazy story, right? "He did this-- this thing--" Jim gestures at his face-- "I could see into his mind, relive his memories. Turns out he came from the future and altered the past. Oh, and the bastard that threw me off my ship? My lifelong friend, apparently. Who knew? Well, besides the future one.

It's weird, but... I learned a lot about myself, that day. In a frozen cave, with a Vulcan from the future."

Because he's been hauled off here, Eddie's receptive to the story, unusual as it is. He listens, fascinated. "Huh," is his initial reply.

"What I find the most interesting is that you preface telling me a story about going to another planet, getting chased by a space monster and then another space monster, met and psychically shared memories with the alternate-future version of a friend you didn't know you had as only interesting to you." He grins. "That's amazing. Trapping you here is a crime. I am not even joking around."

Jim's learning good grace these days, and he manages to summon enough of it to shake his head and smile, a polite deferral. "I guess I didn't want to assume the personal revelation would... translate well? Or be meaningful to anyone else. But thank you."

Eddie notices the deferral, and thinks that's amusing. He smirks. "Well, you have space monsters in it," he points out, helpfully. "I, personally, have never been attacked by space monsters, and if we conducted a poll of the people in this room..."

"All right," he allows, "I guess that's interesting. I'm still used to home, I forget not everybody gets chased by space monsters or has a chance to on a regular basis."

His easy smile is back, but it's slightly dimmed; he brought up home and now, once again, he can think of nothing but. He wants to get back, his drive as much a reflection as his newfound sense of duty as it is his longing.

Oh god, no, are we going to be homesick now? Is that what's going on? God damn it. "You're fun," he says, encouragingly. So... keep being fun, got it? "If I can be of any assistance with your efforts, please let me know."

Now that helps. He's been worried, you see, about not being fun anymore. Now that he's Captain and has responsibilities sometimes he feels like he has to be careful and not fun.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. I'll let you know."

He seemed like the sort of guy who would appreciate being fun. But then again, Eddie wants to be the sort of guy who seems like fun, and if Eddie wants to be something, that's what makes the most sense for other people, too, obviously.

"Of course! I'm very interested in what skills prove necessary to any hypothetical return to your ship. Hopefully it does not involve fighting eel-monsters, which is about the best lead we've been presented with, thus far."

"There may be some fighting involved," Jim admits. Seems there always is, isn't there? "Eel-monsters, though?"

Why is it always monsters? Why can't it be something cute, fuzzy, and passive?

Eddie mimes an eel monster with his free hand, sock-puppet style. Raaar, see? Eel-monsters!

"This is what I have been told," he says, gravely.

"Oh." Huh.

"I've never fought eel-monsters before. I went up against these, uh, chasing-monsters--" and here he mimics the movement, arms swinging, "--and that one monster with the-- he had--"

Jim raises a hand, his wrist in front of his mouth, and he opens and closes his hand, fingers outstretched, to try to demonstrate a monster with a huge gaping mouth. "--like that."

Eddie's expression remains quite serious through all this. He nods, frowning, and brings his hand to his mouth, wiggling his fingers. Raaar, squid monster!

This is very, very serious.

Jim is glad Eddie understands the gravity of the situation, and the makeup of this monster. He nods. "Exactly. And its tongue came out like--"

And there goes his hand again, approximating a noisy, slithering tongue.

"It was loud, too, which I guess when you have a mouth that big, should be expected."

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It's like paradise, spread out with a butter knife :: [OPEN]

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