it is a funeral.

[ltcommandroid]

[Well. That was certainly something.

Emotions are clearly high, so for once, Data steps out of his helper role and takes on the brunt of organizing the after-trial gathering. He's seen enough of them by now to know what's what. He's also seen more than enough in this particular trial to decide that the bar, while possibly being the most logical location, may be distressing to some! So instead, we're gonna do something different. Data will deliver invitations, that sort of look like a computer printed them, to each of the rooms:]


Please come to the ice cream parlor if you would like company at this time.

- Data

[Everybody likes ice cream!

There are no decorations, but there are some snack selections from the buffet and the cafe, depending on what you want, and a tray or two of mixed drinks courtesy of Jimmy Buffett. Data and Parker are both here. If you're sad, you may pet Parker (probably). If you're too depressed to make your own fancy sundae, Data will do it for you (definitely).]

Comments

[scouserer]

[Constantine blinks, a slightly surprised expression on his face when the door opens. Frankly, he hadn't been expecting a response, much less her directly speaking to him.]

Not yet. I've got an appointment with Jimmy Buffett and a few pints, wouldn't want to be late.

[He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck.]

Care to join me?

[paucipan]

[Well, she wasn't exactly expecting to be asked after, so she supposes that's...fair. Plumeria shifts a bit, considering.]

...I've got nothing better to do except go to sleep, so...

[...Lady Freyja's already disappointed, may as well do a little bit of further disappointment. Plumeria will come out of the room, at least, tipping her head a bit. Lead the way, Constantine.]

I'm surprised you would offer, after everything that's happened today.

[scouserer]

Ah, you know, misery loves company and all that. And I figured you could use some company--especially after everything that's happened today.

[Misery loves company. It's not the first time he's said that on this ship, and it certainly won't be the last. Constantine walks down the hallway, back towards the buffet and bar. He falls quiet, listening for her footfalls to make sure that she's following.

For a moment, he considers telling Plumeria that he had seen Freyja earlier--but decides against it. Best to just get her mind off it, and Constantine is ill-equipped to deal with those kinds of conversations.]

At least we know the bastard's name and face, now. Cost us quite a bit to get there.

[He's referring to the Captain.]

[paucipan]

[Misery loves company. It's something Plumeria gets at least, and boy is she miserable. He'll be able to hear her footfalls easily, though; she's following along, and she lets out the smallest bit of bitter laughter at that statement.]

We do. And it's certainly the most punchable thing I've ever seen, and I can't wait to see it broken.

[...]

But...I don't know if I can really bring myself to be happy about it, considering what it cost. Objectively, this is good for us. I really just can't bring myself to be too pleased, considering...

[...The obvious. She imagines she doesn't need to make it clear how much Sylvando's death feels like a horrid blow; she has a feeling he knows.]

[scouserer]

[Plumeria doesn't even need to finish her sentence--Constantine knows.]

It's progress. As long as we see this through to the end, their deaths won't have been in vain.

[It's what he says out loud, at least. What he wants to believe. And maybe, he might be able to speak it into existence.

Yeah, right.

They reach the buffet, and Constantine makes a considerable effort not to look towards the party zone.]

You know, Magica was discussing a seance, of all things. I think it's ridiculous, but...she might have a point. M'not sure how the afterlife works here, but their spirits might not have moved on from the ship.

[paucipan]

...Yes. That's the most we can do at this point. Keep going until we reach the end of this.

[So they'll keep going determinedly forward, until they either make it out alive, all wind up dead, or likely just break from the pressure. That's what she thinks, at least.

...Plumeria hates thinking realistically like this. But Constantine's next words get her to look at him, rather than at the party zone herself, with a slightly incredulous look.]

What, that party game humans play to try and speak to spirits? So that's why she's out... [She sounds. Skeptical. Which is really hilarious coming from a goddamn fairy but--hm. For as utterly incredulous as she looks, she does give it some thought.] It sounds like utter hogwash. Most spirits simply get pulled into Hel, where I come from, so contact is impossible.

...But who knows. It certainly isn't the worst idea that one can come up with.

[scouserer]

Hey, s'not just a party game--though, I will admit most of the time these things happen, it's just teenagers at a slumber party fucking around to scare their friends.

[Constantine shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets.]

I dunno how magic works in this world, but there's always a small chance that these spirits are still lingering. Frankly, I doubt anything will happen, but...we don't really have any other options, really. May as well try what we know.

[He slows as he approaches the bar. Constantine does a grand, sweeping gesture with his arms towards animatronic Jimmy Buffett, who waves at them both.]

Well! It seems as though we've finally arrived in Margaritaville. What will it be for you, then, love?

[paucipan]

I admit I don't see it quite often in dreams, but it's usually in those kinds of circumstances that I've seen it. If it leads to us making progress? Then I'll admit I was wrong.

[Anyway! Plumeria manages the slightest laugh at the waving animatronic before going to take a seat. Come on, you take one too.]

I admit that my experience with alcohol is limited...but... [Plumeria thinks for a moment...before looking the animatronic dead in the eyes and saying,] Something as dry and bitter as my sense of humor, if you would.

[plum you dramatic bitch]

[scouserer]

Hmm--somethin' dry and bitter, you say?

[Constantine thinks for a moment, scratching his chin and mulling over his options. He snaps his fingers, gesturing towards Jimmy Buffett.]

Oi, Jimmy! Give her a Bensonhurst, will you? As for me, I'll be havin' a whiskey sour.

[Jimmy nods, then begins whipping up the appropriate drinks. Constantine slumps down in a barstool, leaning against the countertop.]

Dry and bitter, as you requested. Anything with vermouth should be good to your tastes.