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Post by montywonty on May 28, 2019 5:54:21 GMT -6
While speaking with Eva, Renardo found the need to correct her with a raised index finger. “Costuming only, otherwise little experience on an actual theatre stage.” The clarification would be whittled down however as his conversation partner had already meandered back to the bar to come back with a treat. The smallest of smiles would curl to his lips when presented with the drinks - he would take note to speak on it later after Rusty gave his own heartfelt soliloquy.
A toast to those whom this team has lost, and for their afterlives to be beautiful, Renardo thought to himself while raising his new glass.
Once Eva brought the attention back to him, his lips pursed in discontent. It was easier said than done to be opening himself up more to his new teammates. After all, he was prepared from head to toe - but only for a professional approach. So far, his new comrades were a miles departure from it. Perhaps it was terrible planning, or perhaps this was just bad judgement.
Nonetheless, he’s able to find a starting point. “Interesting choice of beverage,” he states while holding the glass up to his eye level. “Judging by the color and the smell, ‘tis a horchata base. Always, horchata cocktails have been a favorite of the university students in Metro Manila.”
The designer was about to take a sip of it, until he was interrupted by the sound of a steady stream of falling liquid. Lo and behold, Myra and Gabe were getting quite worked up as some nameless hooligans on the balcony were up to no good. Renardo discontently crinkled his nose, rolling his eyes at the trick. “Ugh. And a waste of beer and money as well.”
The sound of whirring servos rumbles slightly as he reaches into his pocket for a tightly compressed folded towel, propping it into his cane and extending it outwards for Gabe to clean up - at least, if he wanted to before he went to go kick their asses.
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Post by S☆E on Jun 2, 2019 16:27:28 GMT -6
Daryl didn't care about the toast or the tacky-ass drinking contest that was now in full bloom at their table. To him the evening was getting boring. He pushed his chair aside and made his way to the pool table where someone was looking for a game, but then heard something that made him turn back around. It sounded like someone taking a piss off a second-story balcony, and who was it that was getting doused? None other than his obnoxious midget teammate!
His irritated frown melted away as he grinned and laughed out loud. "HAAA~! HAHAHAA~!" He ran back over to get a better angle. "Oh shit, shorty! You got soaked! That shit reeks, too. Must be the really cheap stuff! Oh fuck me, that's too funny~!"
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Post by fen on Jun 2, 2019 18:16:40 GMT -6
The sight of a drenched Gabe was certainly something; it was enough to send the already tipsy Rusty into a laughing frenzy, though Yuki looked far less amused when her gaze trailed upwards towards the group responsible. Though she didn’t seem familiar, there was something about them that almost immediately put her off.
Hansel leaned over to sneak a peek at the ensuing chaos, whistling at the sight of semi-flustered pilots. It was really just the short one, who seemed to have been deep enough into drinking that he would be liable to lob his adopted-brother’s head right off. He had to admit that would actually be pretty sweet, all things considered.
Bianca, on the other hand, looked pissed. Well, as pissed as she could get away looking. She was certainly staring daggers at the guy who had just spilled her drink on someone she wasn’t even that interesting in pissing off. Between that and the laughter that seemed difficult for their hanger-on to contain, he was beginning to get the idea that maybe that it had not been the best decision to test a short drunken person’s patience.
“Hmm, you know what? I’m making an executive decision here to, uh, leave.”
“Wh- What?! Why?!” Whispered the shorty, leaning forward onto the table as if in on some secret.
“Because I’m pretty certain they’re going to come up here and kick your ass, and I’ll be held responsible if I’m in the same building as you when it happens.”
He got up on those words, motioning to his sister and their still somewhat-ticked off companion. They all got up, with Bianca nailing the beer thief in the shoulder with some reservation. “You owe me next time.”
Somewhat flustered now, the short one glanced between his leaving group and the angry pilots just a floor below them. “N-Now hold on, we can just apologize and it’ll be fine r-right?”
“Not my problem.” “I don’t talk to Earthnerds if I can help it.”
As they grabbed their stuff, Hans let out a hefty sigh. “Fine, I’ll watch you from a distance, but you do it yourself. I’m not about to get involved in this.” Though there was a distinct look of fear in the scrawny redhead, as the group descended to the first floor, it seemed like he would go on his word and approach them.
Well, to a point.
He got about halfway to the group before he noticed Gabe’s stare and… Froze. Both Gretel and Bianca were already by the door, ready to leave, but Hans was standing near the shorty, hands in his pockets, already very tired. “Are you not going to…?”
“I am.”
“...when?”
“In… A bit. In a bit.”
“Okay.”
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Post by S☆E on Jun 2, 2019 19:08:20 GMT -6
"Man, you're gonna need like three more of those," Daryl said hunched over as Rey handed Gabe a towel. "That shit is all over the floor too, fuck. Don't slip." He stood up straight and grabbed his shades, clearing his throat through a few residual chuckles and saw them near the bar, making for the door. The assholes from upstairs. "Hold up, I'm gonna go grab you a few more."
He half-jogged over to the counter and asked the barkeep for any spare dry towels. Taking one in hand he walked a couple steps over to the two of them, noticing them noticing their friend being glared down by Gabe. "Hey yo, that was pretty funny drenching little Gabe like that," he grinned, sliding up casually. "You guys are with him right? The redhead who's about to get his skeleton rearranged?" He kept smiling like something was funny, but the warmth of his expression felt different, more malevolent with his shades on. "Because if you are, you should already know it ain't time to leave until this is settled."
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Post by Charredgp on Jun 2, 2019 19:25:54 GMT -6
There was a visible shift in gears in Gabe's drunken mind, it seemed. Drunken assholes he could handle, currently being one of them right now. Even his more familiar teammates laughing at him, he could handle. Lord knows they'd had a right to do that given everything he did in general. But the new guys? Everyone suddenly giving him all this attention? All this pity even if only in his drunken perceptions? He practically didn't need a towel with how much his blood was boiling and threatening to make the alcohol burn off. A familiar heat filled his body, not of alcohol, but of formless rage forcibly compressed down.
With a grunt, he'd snatch the towel off of Renardo's cane, wiping the worst of it off his head and face. He still looked and smelled like someone had poured poor-quality beer on him, but it at least wasn't as overpowering and blatant as before. Slowly he rose, tossing his towel aside as the others began to file out, save for the redhead who had so generously lagged behind. Even with his soaked-down hair obscuring much of his eyes, the death glare he was shooting their group was clear as day.
"Leavin' so soon?" He asked in a tone colder than the void of space.
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jun 2, 2019 21:13:34 GMT -6
Something changed in Myra’s expression. I know that voice, she thought. That was the only thought that remained, those four words rattling around in her head until they finally spilled onto the floor, joining the growing puddle of beer that splashed around her boots as she slid off the bar stool.
“I know that voice.”
Her breath was hot and reeked of alcohol, sour and pungent. That much Hansel could tell as he found Myra’s face mere inches from his own, air whistling as it passed through clenched teeth. A bottle of beer twirled threateningly between her fingers—though it may as well have been a dagger with how she wielded it.
“No… no, I don’t think they’ll be leaving at all,” she answered in a half-whisper. “Tell me, what’s your name? Or should I be asking for your callsign?”
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Post by fen on Jun 3, 2019 23:27:18 GMT -6
The ladies glanced at each other for a few moments, somewhat surprised at the sudden approach. Neither of them recognized Daryl, but given that they saw him part with the same group, they knew enough. That, and, their faces were an odd mixture of a grimace with some disgust thrown in.
Well, the disgust was mainly Gretel.
“Ew, no.” Was that a no to being with the redhead? No to sticking around? Probably both.
“Buzz off, chrome face.” Came the taller woman, arms now crossed, not afraid to let those guns pop. Though Gretel certainly had more bark, it was Bianca’s bite that he had to be worried about.
“Besides,” Gretel leaned forward, standing on her toes in an attempt to get a better look at the group. “I don’t see the one with the Phoros… So I definitely don’t care about starting a fight or whatever.”
She crossed her arms, a mock pout on her face. “...is he some sort of pussy that doesn’t drink? ‘Cause that’s just gonna piss me off even more.”
“Greta… You talk too much.”
---
“W-Wait, they recognize us…?”
Well, now things were getting a little too dramatic for his tastes.
Hans crossed his arms, his gaze narrowing towards Myra- and the bottle hanging between her fingers. Getting stabbed wasn’t on the menu, though his concern was more for his companion than himself. It would be a cold day in hell before the smell of alcohol would put fear in him again.
“They recognize me,” came his voice as he dragged the shorter man back towards him and away from the angry drunks. “I’d be impressed if they knew who you were, though…”
It was strange that Gabe didn’t seem to think of him as anyone but a random guy who dumped booze on him. Did he not keep up with news? It didn’t matter at this point, his priority was just making sure his cohort didn’t get stabbed.
“Very attentive of you, surprisingly so. Unfortunately I don’t see much point- or use, in continuing our little scuffle from last time.” There was a firmness in his voice that seemed practiced, as if Myra was not the first nor the last to try this. Even as he blocked their path to his companion, he didn’t seem like he was ready to back down.
As they four were close enough, Hans leaned in, a growl undercutting his words. “This is neutral ground, and you know damn well what sort of mess you can make by trying something.”
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jun 4, 2019 18:13:42 GMT -6
Myra reached towards Hansel with her free hand and grabbed him by the shirt. Her skin grew pale and sickly, though he saw a smirk grace her face before her head bowed down. If he had thought she was simply taking a closer look at his shiny leather boots, the bile that now covered them would likely convince him otherwise. Any attempt to escape from her grasp seemed futile, her fingernails digging into her palm as she vomited onto the floor. Only once she had finished retching had she released him. “Think you’ll agree that this is already a goddamned mess,” she replied, wiping the bile from the side of her mouth. “What’s so wrong with playing around in it a little?” She shrugged and—despite her words—began to back off. Whether it was a shred of common sense that still lingered lonely in her head or a sudden (but not inexplicable) desire to race to the restroom was unclear. Myra took a few cautious steps back, nearly turning to face away from their nemeses, when she heard something that confused her… “I don’t see the one with the Phoros… So I definitely don’t care about starting a fight or whatever.”...and enraged her. “She making fun of us or something?” Her grip on the bottle tightened. “Have to say, now is really not the time to fuck with me.” [The Voices Never Stop]Myra flipped the bottle into the air, snatching it at the height of its arc… only to hurl it straight towards Gretel’s head. She lunged towards Hansel before the amber bottle crashed into a thousand glass pieces, the full force of her weight knocking him onto the ground. Her knees kept his arms pinned to the ground as her fists flung wildly towards him, landing wherever she could reach.
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Post by Charredgp on Jun 4, 2019 22:00:30 GMT -6
Gabe watched, impressed, as Myra continued forward, managing to be both incredibly intimidating and incredibly gross at the same time. Not that he could criticize her technique much, instead bursting into a loud bout of drunken laughter at the sheer audacity and ridiculousness of it all. He'd have to remember that move if he didn't escape this hungover or brain damaged. Though at the same time, if he did escape that unharmed it was almost a mark against him.
There was a pregnant moment where it seemed that maybe things wouldn't elevate past that, until one of them made the fatal mistake of speaking. He could practically see the carnage of their last battle, the crumpled ruins of the Canyonero and Highlander still painfully fresh wounds in his mind.
Much like Myra, he would also be quick to lash out. Lacking any weapon, and with only one target, he wouldn't have to be nearly as careful with his moves. With a wordless growl, Gabe would lean back for a moment, before slamming his head forward, headbutting the unfortunate redhead who had technically started this mess.
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Post by fen on Jun 5, 2019 16:16:48 GMT -6
Time seemed to slow as the bottle soared through the air, spinning as it did. The group followed its trail, wondering, in awe, at where it might land. Unfortunately for Myra, and Daryl- it did not meet its mark. With the accuracy known only to those suffering from alcohol poisoning, the bottle crashed against the back of Daryl’s head, nearly his neck. It shattered almost instantly, sending shards flying towards the ground and away from Daryl’s back.
Both Gretel and Bianca winced at the sight, the two of them well aware of where the bottle would land once it reached the peak of its arc. Neither of them, however, were willing to move Daryl out of the way. In Bianca’s case at least, a good bottle to the head was in her favor. Once he had recovered, he’d look up to see Bianca juuuust a tad bit closer, arms crossed with a sour look on her face. “Hopefully you don’t feel inspired to join your friends over there, yeah? Really not in the mood to knock someone out. Especially not someone who just got pegged by his own team.”
She meant, of course, the other bit of fighting.
---
There were maybe two options Hansel had prior to Myra jumping him. Option one involved the pocket knife he had on him, but for several reasons that was out of the question. Option two involved slugging her first, but that was also not worth the trouble- he didn’t exactly want to incite a bigger fight. Option three was-
...option three was hitting the dirty bar floor. Try as she might, it wasn’t difficult for Hans to rip his arms from her grip, immediately shielding his head from the worst of it. Each blow that landed certainly stung, the pilot attributing it to Myra’s surprisingly tough physique. On top of that, she was driven by a drunken rage. None of these things were unfamiliar to him, but he had to admit that he really wasn’t in the mood.
He could make out the figure of a certain shorty falling to his knees while clutching his face, before hastily getting up and out of the other shorty’s range (of which there was very little). The scrawny redhead staggered away, trying to not feel another blow, but he still turned to look at his attacker.
“Y-You, y-you ANIMAL!” he shouted, blood spurting from his nose as he held it as tightly as he could. “N-No wonder they HATE YOU-”
A pale arm wrapped around his neck, causing him to sputter and choke for a brief second was he was rudely tugged away by none other than Gretel, who now had a much more serious, much more focused expression on her face. As she dragged the shorty away, she passed her brother being pummeled on the ground. “Try not to get killed here, yeah? I’m taking Mr. Jeremiah back before he gets himself killed.”
Hans nodded solemnly, still on the ground, still being beat, as Gretel rush-dragged the sputtering, bleeding redhead away from Gabe with almost inhuman speed.
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Mary
Little Twinkle
Posts: 14
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Post by Mary on Jun 5, 2019 16:54:14 GMT -6
"Myra, that's enough."
Evangeline called from her table, rising from her seat with the grace of an equally enebrated newborn fawn. Her face was pulled into a rather uncomfortable squint, trying to focus her thoughts and steel her stomach. Her mindset was barely keeping pace railroading on the fleeting thought of holding some responsibility in the middle of all this racket, the noise pounding at her temples. "At this point I don't care about the Admiral's orders-" She paused from making her way to the scuffle for a quick coughing fit as she tugged against the urge to empty out the contents of her stomach.
"OH CHRIST.....Would you stop swinging for two seconds?" Evangeline requested as she caught her second wind, straightening up from her leaning position on the nearby table. "You're about a split second decision away from a knife to the che-" Evageline was halfway through an attempt to pull Myra from the pummeling when the floodgates broke and her self control evaporated from an unintended flailed arm making contact with her stomach.
And with that, Myra was about to get a taste of her own medicine as Eva emptied the contents of her own stomach.
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Post by S☆E on Jun 5, 2019 18:14:39 GMT -6
Daryl was currently locked in a staring contest with the larger of the two women when something abruptly struck the back of his head fast and hard. He keeled over forward, his shades toppling to the floor amidst a tinkling of glass and felt the warm trickle of blood running down the back of his neck. He stayed hunched over for a few seconds before putting his glasses back on and standing back up straight, his bemused grin now replaced by a snarl of irritated fury. He almost didn't hear the big lady's comment but for the last couple words.
He turned and saw Myra flailing about on the floor with the big guy in what looked like a puddle of puke. A chunk of what hit him lay by his foot. Same label as the bottle she'd been holding, he realized. Then it clicked, what had happened. He was about to turn back towards the duo when the mouthy one ran and grabbed the redhead, blood streaming down his face. The other girl, Angela or something, was trying to pull Myra off the big guy and took an elbow to the gut. She started puking as well.
Brushing a few chunky shards of glass out of his hair Daryl turned to the big gal and gave a short shrug. "This scene is getting pretty fucked up, throwing up and shit. Too much booze and too little brains. How about instead of throwing blows we just step outside and get some air?" With that, he clapped her on the shoulder almost sympathetically and exited the bar. He took a deep breath and savored it. It was a nice day after all.
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Jun 5, 2019 19:22:40 GMT -6
For a moment it seemed as if nothing could stop Myra from pummeling Hansel until either he was a bloody pulp or she had passed out from exhaustion. But then, in what could only be described as a drunken miracle, Evangeline began to lose her breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a small sampling of desserts all over the two. Myra yelped in a mixture of shock and disgust, throwing herself to the side in a pitiful attempt to avoid the worst of it. Hansel was given no such opportunity.
Suffice to say, Hansel was having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
“Ohhhh god it smells,” Myra croaked, pulling her shirt over her nose as she pushed herself away from the splash zone. “Think that uhh, think that fresh air sounds good right about now.”
Her shoes slipped on the wet tile as she scrambled to her feet. She raced past Gretel and ‘Mr. Jeremiah’, bumped into Bianca on her way out the door, and muttered an apology as she brushed past Daryl before finally crashing into a row of bushes across from the bar.
“Urgghhh…”
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Post by Charredgp on Jun 12, 2019 22:02:18 GMT -6
"Fuckin'...Rrgh..."
A drunken headbutt, in hindsight, was an absolutely terrible idea. Even sober it wasn't a fun move to pull off without risk of leaving him debilitated, let alone sloppy and sensitive from booze. The scene around Gabe seemed to meld into a blur of voices and motion as his target was pulled away, swaying slightly as he managed blow a kiss to 'Mr. Jeremiah' as he was forcibly escorted from the premises. He knew he'd said something but his head was ringing too much from the impact to make much of it out other than the obvious pain and panic in his voice. It was somewhat disappointing losing a chance for a good brawl, but it seemed Myra had more than made up for it while he was recovering.
And just in time to watch what seemed like absolutely everyone paint the floor and each other's shoes in a fresh coat of vomit.
"Jesus fuckin' christ..." He muttered, putting an arm against his nose in an effort to block out the smell. The sight and smell was enough for his stomach to give a warning churn of its own, the voice of Sean ringing clearly in his head chiding his weak stomach. Following the crowd, he too would stagger through the doors, taking a much-needed breath of air that didn't reek of vomit, beer, blood, and self-inflicted embarrassment. He staggered around the others with little grace and a few bumps as he moved to crouch against the wall, trying to will his body to either stop trying to heave or save it for when he had a target.
"Fuuuuuuuuck..."
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Post by fen on Jun 13, 2019 0:06:22 GMT -6
Greta and Jeremiah had already managed to scramble out of the bar, and the two could be heard walking down the street, with one berating the other, bloodier one. There was also the question of Myra, who had dived into some bushes across the street, but that’s better left alone.
Bianca whistled. Leaning against the wall of the bar, she brought out what looked to be a pack of Martian cigarettes. The cartoon of a donkey was on the front; a brand that wasn’t on Earth. “Want a smoke?”
She dangled the box from her fingers as she took one out, lighting it with a flick of her fingers. It was a nice day, and though inside had been anything but that, she was glad to take a moment to enjoy what little of it remained. Though they couldn't quite see the sky under the dome, the view was pretty all the same.
“Not that I’m against seeing your faces squashed like little grapes,” She started, crossing her arms. “Because that’s still my endgame, but unlike my pals here I don’t have that burning desire to kill every time I run into one of you.”
As far as Daryl knew, the two of them hadn’t met before. Bianca certainly hadn’t made it seem like they knew each other prior.
An announcement interrupted their conversation.
Scheduled rainfall will begin in five minutes, please clear from uncovered areas should you want to avoid it. Thank you.
She shook her head. “Well, that’s my cue. Got no desire to stand out in front of a bar in the rain.” Just before stuffing her hands in her pockets, she tossed Daryl the pack of smokes.
“If you gotta ask why I’m giving you these, don’t bother with ‘em. See ya around.”
---
Hans slowly pulled himself off the floor, his face petrified with a somber expression. He had seen far too many ladies puke today. Far too many.
The rest of his crew had already left, which was good, actually. He just wish it hadn’t come to this. Glancing between the sight of Myra running off, the hunched over Meta, and the… Whatever was happening to Gabe. Snatching a pile of napkins from a nearby table, he began to wipe himself off the best he could as he made for the door, whispering something unintelligible under his breath.
By this point in the night, Rusty had drank himself to sleep, while Yuki had spent her time paying attention to literally anything but the confrontation. Though the rest of the group had been relatively quiet, it didn’t stop them from being collectively kicked out by a stern bartender and a furious manager. Collecting themselves (and the group) as best as they could, they returned back to the ship they had been calling ‘home’.
---
“Are they okay?”
The question seemed pretty clear in her mind.
Dr. Monteblanc was probably the last one she wanted onboard her vessel during such a crucial time, and yet that was who they were stuck with. He had the worth ethic necessary, but she had always been concerned with the potential for burnout that seemed so likely with him. So far, so good. Though Shanghai certainly had taken a toll on him…
He glanced up from his tablet. The two were sitting in his office, a messy clutter of books, paper, and random paraphernalia. Though she had ‘invited herself in’ for some ‘tea’, it was really just an excuse to have an unofficial meeting. Blue-black haired doctor adjusted his glasses, leaning back in his seat with a long sigh. “They’ve been recovering steadily, yes. We should be able to release them soon.”
“How soon?”
There was an urgency in her voice that seemed to put him on edge, causing the doctor’s posture to shift a bit, as if to look more serious.
“I… I’m not sure, maybe another week for Roland? His wounds were primarily external, and the prosthetic is taking hold just fine. Malkovich on the other hand…” He slid one of his tablets over to the captain, showing her a readout of his injuries. “Much more serious, that one is. I’d recommend a month or two before I’d even consider letting him walk around the ship attended, nevermind fly an AA.”
Adamaris pushed the tablet back, still looking grim, but her expression seemed to falter a bit. “Understood. Please make sure that his needs are attended to, and if anything is missing from our supplies, just a request directly to me.”
With little else to say, she gave Monteblanc a firm, but appreciative nod before heading back out, leaving the doctor alone in his office.
“She’s going to work herself to death at this rate…”
---
05/09/0386
A day back onboard had been enough to sober up most of them. Though they had received a (small) talking to, things had mostly returned to normal. The ship had returned to its regular maintenance schedule, the pilots were being drilled as per usual. The only difference was that they were missing some people.
Today, was something new, however. Today was the first of something they had not experienced in quite some time.
A briefing.
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