voyagers | [party post] come sail away with me

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[party post] come sail away with me

You've come through a door, and you are on a boat. Specifically, you're on a cruise ship in the middle of some giant body of water. You've come through the door behind you which is attached to nothing and may now be locked. It's relatively empty as giant as it appears to be. The only other passengers that are here appear to also have come through the door for the most part and it is not nearly enough to fill up this entire cruise ship.

Also, who knows who the hell is driving this thing since all of the employees appear to be either ghosts or holograms...

Is this your first time here or your hundredth time here? Do you want a drink or a dip in the pool? Is it day or night? Do you stumble on your room or some other situation either fun or painful within its many rooms, shops, and facilities? Do you run into someone you know or a complete stranger?

The possibilities are unlimited!

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"We all have things we're not proud of, Logan," she says, easily. If he was expecting judgment here he's not getting any. No one person is any better than anyone else where she's from, regardless of their education, job, outlook on life.

"And someone's got to do the heavy lifting, right? Sounds like you've lived a full life. Seen a lot."

Logan wasn't certain what to expect. He's starting to learn (already, he's a fast learner when it comes to some things) that Christine is not someone you can have expectations about. She seems to defy them without even batting an eyelash that a big, tough guy like him has done things he's not proud of.

"Yeah. Guess that's one way of puttin' it. Never seen space though." He smirks lightly, approaching the bar and leaning over the side of it to see what's there. No bartender but plenty of alcohol. That's not disconcerting at all. Where the hell does it come from? He shoves the question away, feels his muscles lock up in the back of his shoulders but shrugs that way too as he searches the shelves for something he wants. Something strong.

She's about to point out that there's no bartender, but Logan seems unfazed by this. Maybe this is the way it always is, in the bars here? It's weird, but what about this ship isn't, honestly.

She steps up to the bar too, gazing up at the bottles. No one turns up to make drinks while they wait. "That's it."

She hops up onto a stool, spinning it so her back is to the bar. Then she hoists herself up onto the bar proper, her butt on the surface. Legs raised (but still maintaining her modesty, even in that tiny skirt, she's skilled, okay) up and over the bar, and she drops onto the other side.

"I'm having a Black Russian. Can I make you anything?"

Logan hasn't seen anyone in charge around this place and hasn't seen anyone servicing the bars or the stores. It's like a disconcerting ghost ship, and he doesn't trust anything about it but damn, he needs a drink.

He lifts his eyebrows as she just hoists herself up like that incredibly skilled like, watching as she drops down to the other side. Then he just kind of smirks. See what he mentioned before? Don't have expectations when it comes to Christine.

"Best bottle of whiskey you can find?" He asks before he leans over the counter to grab them each a glass, setting out one in front of her and the other in front of him. There have been times he's had alcohol straight out of the bottle but this... won't be one of those times.

"All right. As I recall from my days in nursing school when bartenders were trying to get my number, they keep the good stuff up high." She takes a step back, looking up, scanning the shelves. "That one," she declares, reaching up for the bottle and turning to set it on the bar, pausing to favor Logan with a smile.

Then it's back to the shelves for what she needs: Kahlua, vodka, some ice from under the bar. "I don't honestly know the proper recipe for this," Christine admits, tipping the vodka in after the darker liquor. "Let's see how this goes. Logan, did you want some ice or a mixer? Or are you drinking that straight?"

Logan smirks lightly when she mentions how bartenders were always trying to get her number. He can't say he's at all surprised to hear that she was asked for it often, and he reaches over for the bottle. His hand brushes against hers as he takes it from her, lifting his eyebrow as he looks down at the label. "Good choice." He looks across the bar at her with a tiny smile when he sees her smile his way.

He watches as she sets it all together on the top of the bar. "Think as long as you like the taste of it, you've made it right. You're the one drinkin it," he says, and he is already pouring the drink into the bottle. "Straight. Not easy for alcohol to do a damn thing otherwise." Both cause he's a big dude and also cause of the whole mutant thing.

She glances up as their fingers brush; catching him smiling makes her own smile grow a bit wider, and her gaze drop. "I, um. Hadn't thought of it that way," she admits, meaning her drink. "But you're right."

And the only way to know if she likes the taste is to try it; she sets down the bottle, sips from the glass, makes a face. Too dry. More Kahlua, she likes it more sweet than dry.

Once she's fixed the drink to her liking, she hoists herself back up on the bar, meaning to make the return trip. But there are bottles and glasses on the bar top where there weren't before. Rather than swing her legs back over and risk spilling something, she just stays where she is. She picks up her glass, holding it up in salute.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You're the one drinking it. It only matters if it tastes right to you," Logan says with a bit of a shrug though the smile is still in place in a quiet kind of way. He's a rough guy after all. Smiles don't come easily to him.

He lifts up his glass to take a sip from it as he smirks softly in amusement at the face she makes when she sips from the glass. It's cute, and he doesn't really think very many things are cute.

Logan stands up, leaning against the bar. This makes them fairly close to eye level if only because he's tall (at least this version of him is, ahem). He lifts up the glass towards hers when she holds it up, and he smirks softly.

"To... finding something not so shitty in the whole kidnapping mess."

And by not-so-shitty, he means pretty fucking nice, but what are words?

She can tell he's not a man accustomed to smiling. He radiates strength and gravity, and men like that aren't given to smiles.

There's also a hint, sometimes, that maybe Logan just hasn't had much to smile about in his past. They don't know each other well enough yet at all to broach it, but she can sense it.

It makes the smile curving his lips now feel that much more like an accomplishment. This close, their eyes nearly level, she can see it even lights his eyes.

She taps her glass against his. "To silver linings, I guess."

Logan smirks when her glass taps with his own, and he lets out a short laugh.

"You guess? Is there something else you think we should be toastin to or are you not too sure about this being a silver lining?" He asks as he downs most of his drink in one shot.

...so much for being polite and civilized there for a moment.

"Can't say I blame you for the second."

He doesn't really come off as a silver lining in most cases, which is kind of funny given the claws.

"I guess..."

She sets down her glass after a sip or two, picking up the whiskey bottle and gesturing for him to set his glass down so she can refill it. This may not be her bar or anything, but she's a proper Southern lady--no one's going to go without in her presence.

"I guess I just wasn't sure if you were thinking the same thing," she says, stealing a faintly-smiling glance at his face as she tips the liquor into his glass.

Logan smirks a bit wider, lifting up his drink toward her and giving her a quiet thanks when she fills it again. He leans against the bar, looking down at the drink (aware of so much all at once, the sounds of the water against the ship, the smell of the metal of it in the air, her faint smile in his peripheral vision) and then he looks back up at her, meeting her gaze this time.

He nods.

"Well, now you know for sure," he says, taking a smaller drink from his glass this time. "How's your drink?"

She holds his gaze when he looks up at her, her smile lingering. "Now I know," she echoes. It's a more honest answer than she was expecting from him. That's no indictment of his character; she just knows how the strong and serious type usually are: loathe to share what's really on their minds.

She glances down at her drink, her smile blooming brighter. "It's really good. I'm going to remember your advice and make them for myself from now on."

Logan's smirk softens, and he takes another drink from the glass in his hand, palm wrapped around it. He can be direct. He's not really the sharing type but a bright spot in the middle of a magical kidnapping seems worthy of directness.

"One of my few good pieces of advice," he says so he approves of remembering it, keeping it in mind. Recipes for drinks aren't nearly as important as liking what you're drinking. He releases a breath, straightening his shoulders back again and looking over the cruise ship. "Keep thinkin' somethin' gonna pop up."

The calmness of this place is almost unnerving. He doesn't relax easy... especially not out on a ship in water magically fucking transported to (she should see him in air... or in space.

oh wait, she will :D).

She takes another sip, and then she nods, lowering her glass. "Honestly, Logan? I've been feeling the same thing since I came through that door. It feels..." She sighs. "Too peaceful and quiet. You know what if mean? Like it's manufactured, made to keep you off guard."

They'd run into feelings like that on the Enterprise. The calm before the storm, so to speak.

Maybe the answer, for now, was to take shelter. At least until they could get some more information.

"I wonder if we're supposed to have rooms. Isn't that how these ships worked? You got your own quarters for the trip. Since it doesn't seem willing to let us go right back home... Maybe we should look for a room."

"It just doesn't feel like being taken against our wills should be so damn quiet and peaceful," Logan says in agreement, and maybe if they end up coming back here or being here long enough, it won't feel so manufactured. It'll be easier to relax here, but he doesn't understand the purpose of this place or the purpose of taking them all.

Logan drinks from the glass in his hand, trying to let the alcohol hit to calm him, but it takes... a lot of alcohol to affect him in any meaningful way.

He looks up at her with a nod, filling up his glass further as he's thinking he'll be taking it with him.

"Yeah, it is. Usually like to avoid ships myself, but you buy your way, get a room, food and drink sometimes included. Might be rooms. We can have a look."

She nods her agreement; it makes sense to her. If it was just what it appears to be on the surface, they wouldn't have to be brought here against their wills, she doesn't think. People would want to come, not have to be dragged.

"I think people have to be staying somewhere," she points out, topping off her glass with one bottle, then the other. "Unless you and I are the only non-holographic or whatever people on this entire ship."

"If we were the only two people, it'd make this that much more suspicious. Why us specifically?" Logan muses out loud in a low voice as he holds on to the glass in his hand, lifting it up to take another long drink from it. "Think there are likely others though. Just not here. We're from two different times completely so not like someone could have a vendetta against us both. ...and you don't really seem like someone who makes personal enemies."

Wolverine, on the other hand? Well, there's a long list.

Her smile turns a bit mischievous. "It's generally not my style, no."

She shrugs slightly, taking another drink. "What strikes me is that it would take an awful lot of power to do what was done to us. Pull us out of separate times. I can't imagine that's something you just let happen at random."

Logan smirks when he sees that smile turn a bit mischievous, and he nods because that is what he thought.

He tenses a bit at what she says, because he recognizes the truth in it. "It would, and what the hell's the benefit or the point? I don't really trust whatever's behind it just wants to give us all a free cruise."

"It can't be that easy," she agrees, draining her glass. For a moment it seems like she might mix herself one more, but she decides against it. She leans down from her perch on the bar top to set the glass safely behind the counter.

"Since I don't really know how long I'm going to be stuck here, I guess I'd better go find a room. Are you game?"

Logan watches her as she drains her glass, and he lets out a rough breath, listening, listening, but he can't hear the sounds of anyone else at least not near. There's just the sound of the waves that make him feel unsteady.

"Always. Want to have a better look around this place anyway." He steps away from the bar, swallowing the temptation to bring a bottle with him. It's not like he'd get very drunk off of it no matter how much he downed, but he wants his hands (and claws) free.

"All right." She hops down, smoothing down her uniform, all business. Not unkindly; it's just clear that she's ready to take on the rest of the day and whatever else it brings.

"So we came from the deck... do you want to keep going further into the ship?"

There's a pause as he lifts his eyebrows at the way that she smooths down her uniform, all business. He can tell it's not unkindly and more that she likes to get down to the heart of things, which he can appreciate. It just makes him smirk softly anyway.

"Sounds like a smart plan to me," he says in agreement, starting down the way, listening to anything he can hear. "Ship's about as quiet as one can be at least when it comes to... people." He can't hear a damn person walking around though he hears the waves, the ship moving through the water with that ease to it.

"Yeah, you're the first actual person I've seen on this ship. Everyone else was some strange projection. They weren't real."

She sighs.

"The more I think about it, the more creepy it gets."

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uncompliant - 2014-04-12 05:12 (UTC) - Expand

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