COMMENCE VOYAGE

[bathymetric]

Fun Fact: Did you know the Atlantic Ocean has a surface area of 41.1 million square miles? No reason.

...

There's something uneasy in the air as you come to.

Well, "come to" is an interesting word in this case. It implies waking up, which is not exactly what happens. None of you are in beds, nor are you really asleep in the traditional sense. One moment you're somewhere else, doing something else with your time, and the next? You're somewhere on board a massive cruise ship - maybe lounging on a deck chair by the pool, maybe getting some Gains in the exercise room, maybe enjoying the tasteful décor in the buffet - and you have no idea how you got here or how you might get back. This is not your beautiful house. If you have a beautiful wife, she isn't here.

What you do have, apart from 25 other unlucky souls, is a small smartphone-like device in your pocket with only a handful of things on it: a clock reading 11PM, a pdf of a ticket in your name on a special Atlantic Liners New Year's Eve Cruise, an app labeled Passenger Profiles with some basic information on your traveling companions, and a message:

Welcome aboard, passenger! Please feel free to partake of any of the facilities while you wait for the big event! Remember: when midnight comes, you better make your way to the theatre at the back of Level 1 for the main event! The Captain and the First Mate will be there to take care of you all personally, and to help you ring in the new year in style!

Well, that's a start. But what you do until then, it seems, is up to you!

Comments

[scouserer]

[Constantine raises an eyebrow, but (perhaps fortunately) doesn't push further. A man's gotta keep his secrets, after all.]

Amen to that. [Constantine smirks, scratching the stubble on his chin.] Not a cigarette in sight, either. I thought cruises were to indulge in hedonistic pleasures and make merry.

[He gestures towards the rest of the room, which...looks, um. Bad, in a word.]

This is just...garish.

[guffawsungraciously]

I simply do not understand how it could all be this inept, really. Even the desserts are of low quality.

[SIGH....]

...I suppose we could gamble for something if we were really desperate.

[scouserer]

[Constantine spreads him arms in mock surprise. In a rather sarcastic tone--]

Of course, why didn't I think of that? There's simply so much to gamble with, like--

[He looks around, squinting towards the buffet's offerings.]

--half a pound of fried shrimp, a container of Jell-O, and a packet of crisps.

[He rubs his face, looking exhausted.]

Maybe if we're desperate enough, we could make ourselves a pack of cards and play poker.

[guffawsungraciously]

...

I do not believe I have had this "Jell-O" in the past, actually, so I suppose that could add an extra bit of excitement to it...

[it's definitely reaching, but on the other hand, he is curious.]

[scouserer]

[Constantine glances between Jasper and the tray laid out. After a brief pause, he gets up out of his seat, takes a plate, and scoops a spoonful of red Jell-O onto it. He holds it out, head bowed, as if bequeathing a nobleman with some sort of important message.]

For you, your highness. Flavored gelatin dessert filled with food dye and artificial sweeteners.

[A pause. He places it on the bar counter with little fanfare.]

Go on. Give it a try.

[And he waits. He wants to see if Jasper goes into shock or something, like feeding a Victorian boy a Monster energy drink.]

[guffawsungraciously]

[...

He feels like he should be offended, but part of him just wants go with it, so he does his best to tilt his chin up and look down his nose at Constantine despite him being taller than Jasper.]

Very well, peasant. Since you have been so gracious, I will perhaps refrain from having you executed on the spot if I am displeased.

[It’s said with something of an exaggerated drawl, but he does manage to keep an almost straight face as he says it... and he just kind of leaves the affect go once he has a better look at the Jell-O.]

...it looks like someone decided to kill and serve a she-slime, actually.

[He goes ahead and spoons it into his mouth, then... mulls it over before swallowing....]

...

Is that... supposed to be cherry...?

[scouserer]

[Constantine hunches over most of the time, so it's probably fine. You think this man has good posture in the slightest?]

It's either some sort of artificial fruit, that's for sure. [A wicked grin meets his face.] Now, imagine that flavor, 'cept with eggs and other savory meat bits scattered in it, and you've got a neat lil' recipe from a few decades back.

[He leans back his seat, seemingly forgetting that these are bar chairs and thus don't have any backs to them. He nearly teeters over before letting out a surprised noise and grabbing the edge of the counter to balance himself.]

Meant to do that.

[guffawsungraciously]

...

I would prefer not to imagine it, given how the whole thing is disgusting enough to knock you off your chair.

[EUUUUGHHHHHH.]

[scouserer]

Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it.

[Does that mean that Constantine has tried it? Absolutely not.]

[guffawsungraciously]

Perhaps if I have consumed enough alcohol to kill a man, I would.

[that's probably an even worse idea than eating it sober actually]