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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Logan lifts his eyebrows a bit. He can't remember the last time someone felt it was a pleasure to meet him, but he's not... really spent much time in polite society in... awhile.

The whole idea of being up in space is really unsettling to him. He can't even fly without feeling severely uncomfortable, but he likes the ground under his feet, needs the senses that come with having dirt under him and air around him. He swallows, trying to imagine 2259. He'd probably still be alive then. Nothing seems to kill him.

"...and I'm over two hundred years in the past. This sort of thing's not in any museum, it's floating around in the ocean where-- when-" (he makes a slight face) "I'm from. Just usually filled with more people."

This is Christine Chapel. Logan's about two hundred years too early to understand what a fine southern woman Starfleet's got on her flagship, full of manners and good grace to go along with her keen medical mind and nerves of steel. Everyone's a pleasure to meet until they prove otherwise.

"Well, goodness. We're just being kidnapped from all over." It's not a good sign. It's a sign that whatever it is, it's powerful.

Logan lifts his eyebrows even further at what she says before he laughs softly. Mostly because, it's not a reaction that he expects at all, and he likes that she is someone that will still Well, goodness despite this kidnapping and everything else that goes with it.

"We are," he agrees, and then he shifts on his feet as he looks at her. It's possible he's asking this just to distract them booth from the confusion of this place. Hard to tell, overall. "But you're from space. You like being in space?"

The whole idea is still very disconcerting to him.

"I'm from Earth," she corrects, gently. "New Orleans. I work in space. I like it--more than I expected to. Being up there gives you a sense of scale. How insignificant your problems are at the end of the day, but also how you're part of something so vast and interconnected."

She shrugs a little.

"Or maybe I'm just a romantic."

"I've been. To New Orleans." Not space. The fact that she chooses to work up in space has him looking a bit impressed as much as Logan ever does. He's rough edges, hard muscles, violence, and sharp claws (literally).

He shakes his head with a light smirk when she mentions being a romantic.

"Not everybody'd be able to look at it that way whatever the reason or be so calm about being kidnapped by a damn cruise ship."

"It's a beautiful city, isn't it? Remind me--in your time, that was when the really bad hurricanes devastated it for a while, right? Even then, it was beautiful. It came back twice as strong." Counter to his hard and tough ways, then, she's clearly indulgent. A dreamer and an optimist, softer edges, compassion.

She shrugs a little, still smiling faintly. "I'm actually really confused and kind of scared," she admits. "But you don't get far as a nurse or an officer if you can't school those reactions." It's not terribly reassuring to your patients, after all. After a while masking how you really feel in a tense situation becomes second nature.

Logan nods in answer. It is beautiful for a city. He never quite enjoys cities as much as the wilderness, the trees, the isolation, but it is a beautiful one partly for that reason. "That's right. Always admire somethin' more when it gets back up after being knocked out," he says. Stronger, better, faster. There have been times he's wished he wouldn't get back up, but he keeps going, keeps moving, always.

He looks over at her, smirking at her answer. She is good at masking it. He can usually sense fear. Just something about a way a person holds themselves, about the air around them. "Probably would've served me right to learn a little somethin' about that, but there are just some things, I just get all wound up about." After being taken by the military and experimented on (though he doesn't remember all that), kidnapping is one of those things. Loss of control. He takes in a breath. Being a soldier ought to have taught him something about that, but he thinks he lost the learning of it somewhere along the way. He was a soldier though. It's where the dog tags come from.

Christine nods, and her face lights up, pleased at that recognition, in the similarity of their thinking. "That's it exactly, yes. There's a... I don't know. A real beauty, and dignity, in something that's been to hell and back and not been bowed by the experience. In coming back stronger."

It's something she's always appreciated. Maybe it's been part of the reason she was drawn first to Dr. McCoy all the way back at the Academy, when making friends. Part of the reason she admires Captain Kirk. Part of the reason she loves serving on the Enterprise. They've all been beaten down by life at some point, but always come clawing their way back, improved by the experience, looking forward and carrying on rather than dwelling and being bitter.

She leans against the rail, smiling. "It probably helps that we don't seem to be in any immediate danger. I'm rattled but if I let every little thing rattle me I'd never have calm patients. I'm sure I won't impress you as much when there's really something going down."

Hopefully that day won't come.

Logan smirks softly at the way her face lights up. He can see the beauty in it, not in himself (and he always come back, doesn't he?), but he sees it in other things. Maybe because he's been alive so long, seen so much die that the ones that can come back from hell are the ones that stick with him most. It's not easy to do especially for other people, for other towns, for the rest of the world. They don't have the super mutant healing that was given to him from the start so he'll get up and keep going whether or not he tries.

Maybe that's why it feels less beautiful to him when he is the one that does it. He's got no choice.

His smirk widens at what she says. "Well, I'm not really calm in danger, but I can handle it," Logan says, looking over at her as he leans against the side. Something about having no danger to handle makes him more unsettled than otherwise. "A lot better than this." He shakes his head slightly. The cruise ship is so silent, and there's no one to fight against. He can feel his muscles tense again just at the desire, the want to, the tips of his claws against the inside of his hand, but there's nothing to fight. "You explored much so far?"

"I can understand that." It makes a certain sense to her, she's seen it on her ship. "When you're trained to be ready to fight at all times, it's disconcerting not to have a fight coming."

She was sure, sometimes, that was what made her Captain so restless.

"We've been all over," she goes on, smiling, clearly proud of this. "So far the Enterprise has gone hundreds of light years past any other ship that's explored the galaxy. We've even crossed the galactic barrier."

Logan lets out a low whistle when she mentions all the places they've gone, they've explored. The whole idea of space and space travel is still unsettling to him. He leans against the railing, smirking sideways as he looks at her.

"Sounds like one helluva trip," he says (and that's putting it lightly) as he scans the length of the ship. There's almost something predatory in his gaze for a moment like he expects something to jump out of the shadows, but nothing ever does and that's almost unsettling too. His gaze focuses back on her. "What about this ship? Have you seen much of it yet?"

"It has been," she agrees, and there's no small amount of pride behind her words. She serves on the Federation's flagship, after all. They've accomplished a lot in their short time together and they're only getting started.

She shrugs, looking over at him. "Not much. The room where I appeared, the hallway, and just out here. Are you in the mood to explore?"

There's a brief moment where Logan wonders what it is like to be apart of something that he could be proud of. He knows he has been on teams before-- before Professor X if that even counts, but he isn't proud of what happened then or what he was eventually used for. He's been wandering a long damn time.

"I'm in the mood to find a drink," he says, and then releases a breath with a smirk. "Also to explore." Make sure nothing's going to pop out and try to kill them all, but there are easier ways to kill someone than throwing them on a damn boat.

She considers this a minute, thoughtful until she pushes off the railing. "Nothing says we can't do both, right?" She smiles. "A drink, then exploring?"

Logan smirks a bit at the suggestion. "Like the way you think," he says, inclining his head in her direction before he starts walking away from the railing, hopefully toward the nearest bar.

She flashes him a grin as she falls into step beside him. "I have my moments, I suppose. So. What do you do at home? For a living."

It seems only fair to ask, since she'd told him all about being a military nurse in space.

The question makes him pause, because. Well. "Nothing really, make do where I can with temporary work, heavy lifting," Logan answers, which he knows sounds strange as soon as he throws it out there, but it's also the truth. "Been wanderin' a long time. I've done a lot of jobs over the years. Some of 'em I'm not too proud of."

But he's done plenty. Been a soldier, an experiment, a secret group in the government, an assassin, someone that won fights in bars for cash, reluctant member of the X-men, a... teacher (that didn't last very long).

"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?

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