revivalproject | Murder on the Gold Saucer Express

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Murder on the Gold Saucer Express

WHO: It was you!
WHERE: On the airship!
WHAT: With the candlestick!
WHEN: Moments after...a horrible crime has taken place! Also during the Eorzea trip.
WARNINGS: This is a murder mystery, so both of those things are going to happen. Mark it if you get gory or weird about it.
NOTES: Go here for some OOC organizing.

The Dock

Those teleporting crystals were extraordinarily advanced for a society that didn't have computers, but none of them were going to give Tony an aerial view of the land like a proper flight could. A flight like in one of those ships he had seen trundling along; not proper jets or even blimps, but something that looked like an enthusiastic hot air balloon hauling the hull of an entire sailing ship. Ridiculous, and a far more straightforward path than getting himself in the sky and then having to answer some invasive questions for the display.

A regular, dedicated loop to the Gold Saucer advertised itself as travelling in style, a glitzy prelude to the indulgence of the games, a proper pre-party party bus. It looked much shabbier in person. Tony raised a lip as he stood on the dock and the boarding plank was dropped unceremoniously with a crack, disgorging a footman who's jacket was threadbare and had long lost the lustre of the gold piping around the collar. Tony lifted his chin to try to see past the man and into the ship, only to be suddenly jostled back.

"I have the right to be here, Hedda!" a woman shrieked as another, presumably Hedda, came careening into Tony. Tony stumbled, but was quickly catching himself and her, only for her to shove him off to go barrelling back at her attacker with her own fists raised. Tony's catch became a hold on her elbows to try to draw her back as the crowd around them spread out, with nervous gasps.

"You have the right to leave, too, Vedis, so get walking!" Hedda snarled, taking very little heed of Tony trying to stop her from clawing a woman's eyes out.

"Not until Rhitfedar has heard how much damage he's doing. Every cent he spends on you is blood money!"

No amount of Tony's attempt to soothe, "Hey, okay, hey, let's calm down," was going to be heard over Hedda screeching, "You're just jealous! Stop following us around!" Tony had to physically drag her back until enough people poured into the gap made between them and apparently her mortal enemy, streaming toward the ship. She finally wrenched herself away, fussily straightening her clothes and her hair, then cast Tony a startlingly coquettish smile. "Goodness, I don't know what came over me, she's terrible, really, has been since school, she drives everyone around her crazy, it's a miracle she hasn't gotten herself killed. Say, you look like you've got some extra cash on you, do you mind buying me a ticket? I seem to have dropped mine, and I'm supposed to meet someone..."

"All aboard!" the shabby footman's voice rang out startlingly clear, and Hedda was clinging pathetically to Tony's arm then, her gaze darting to every piece of metal on him. She was getting on that ship, one way or another.

-----

The Lower Deck

"What do you think?"

A man was practically pressed against Tony's shoulder, his hand raised to wiggle his fingers under Tony's nose, making them clatter with the array of rings there all adorned with polished, glimmering seashell shards. Tony raised his eyebrows, trying to come up with the kindest possible answer, and was relieved by the man himself who continued, "I know, they're awful. Some of my worst work. The only money I'll be making back is if I sell that atrocious piece of land." He was barely actually talking to Tony, but the other men who had been standing with him, letting Tony nod slowly and turn back toward the window where he was watching the city retreat below them. "Swarming with adventurers anymore, even if there was better materials to find there they've been long since cleaned out. That dungeon. Ugh. You'd think one of them would be good enough to buy it."

"You could give it to me," one of the other men offered, voice all grit. "Call your debt even. No more worrying about the money, I won't even have to kill you anymore." Tony tried his best to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye while sidling away, not particularly eager to be surprised by another fight so soon. Maybe if he could flag down that footman, he could get more of that cheap wine in them and defuse the situation.

"Oh, well, that..." the artist was demurring, waving his clattering hands. "That speculator, Rhitfedar, he said something about a new resort, maybe, it would be a great investment for him, worth quite a bit up front, I was hoping to catch him, make so much more for both of us, really, without having to do the development work..."

---

The Dining Room

The buffet was mostly grey. Tony inspected a cracker, wondering the likelihood of getting food poisoning from something dry and stale, and if alien food poisoning was less likely to effect him or more likely to kill him. "Rhitfedar," said a voice at his elbow, to which Tony dropped the cracker and turned his attention to a bowl of dusty, wrapped candies. The voice cleared its throat, and tried again, "Mr. Rhitfedar?"

It was the footman. Tony turned, glanced around, then gestured to his chest with the candy that he had plucked up, and eventually had to accept that it was him that the footman was trying to address. "Uh, no, sorry," he said.

"Oh." The footman didn't seem to know what to do with this information, and held the box he was carrying out toward Tony anyway, which locked them in another awkward stalemate until the footman insisted, "But I saw you come in with Hedda. This package has been on board for you since this morning, if you could sign here."

"Still no, and not expecting a package," Tony tried again, inching away, not really hungry anyway and leaving the candy on top of the box for the footman's grand effort. "Good luck, honestly, he can't have gone far, step out there is pretty steep."

When Tony glanced back from the doorway, the footman was chewing slowly and peeking inside the box, brow furrowed and looking harried. To the next person who approached the buffet table, he blurted, "Mithtuh Whyfe-er?"

---

The Bathroom

Absolutely everyone on board this ship was turning out to be too touchy and potentially insane, and they had barely gotten off the ground. Tony had to make a quick retreat from an elderly woman with a very wide smile and very sticky hands before she took a bite out of him, leaving her waving her handkerchief after him and promising to have a glass of wine for him when he was done as he slipped into the security of the bathroom. Hastily, he secured the lock and braced the door for good measure as he caught his breath. This had not been his best idea, and getting an aerial view of the area wasn't even telling him anything useful. Slowly, he turned to face what new damp, dusty horror the facilities had to offer him, only to freeze, expecting bad and somehow getting worse.

There was a man on the floor.

Tony tried the footman's tactic, clearing his throat, to no avail. Right, that probably wasn't going to rouse this man any more than Tony's entrance had. Tony dropped to his knees then, gently touching a shoulder first, then trying a shake, before leaning closer to listen for any sign of breathing. That was about what he expected. Desperately, he glanced around for anything that might help as he searched for a pulse, finding only clammy skin and an empty box knocked under the dripping sink, newsprint spilling out of it, but nothing that would rouse a man from the dead.

He had to pull himself together and hurry back to the door, where he flung it open, only to brace his arm against it then throw his body in the way of another gentleman that had been waiting patiently outside. "Um," Tony started, bringing his free hand up to search for the proper phrase that conveyed the urgency of the matter, without inducing a panic on an airship. "Would you mind finding the footman?"

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Cayde rolled his eyes but stayed put for the most part while he tolerated Tony's fussing like a reluctant child having their mother fix them up in their Sunday Best. He picked out the newspaper, careful in case anything was hiding amongst the folds.

"Wow. Well I guess if you're pulling a murder you wanna go all out with the dismal themes, even in the packaging," he muttered as he held up the yellowing print.

What had Cayde done to this thing? It really wasn't going into place, making Tony bite his tongue like he had to work an engineering miracle, and was irritated that his focus was drawn away from this delicate work by the useless packing paper. Until he realized, "I know her." The Disgraced Socialite glared back at him, making him abandon the cravat to snatch the paper away from Cayde, frowning. "She looked just like that when I met her, too. Just before we got on this boat." Not just like that, he thought, squinting at the photo, then quickly flipping the paper around to try to find a date. "What year is it on this planet? This is old. This wasn't just--I don't believe in coincidences."

If he'd known that answer then he wouldn't have been having a cravat malfunction. Cayde blinked as the newspaper was removed from his hand. "You do?" he asked.

He watched Tony's face as the man studied the newspaper articles more closely. "Asking the wrong person," he said, holding up his hands. The going year was about the last thing he was wondering about here. "What do you mean, coincidences?"

"Her," Tony replied impatiently, snapping the newspaper taut between his hands to try to smooth out the crumpled image for Cayde to take in. "She's on this ship."

That seemed like the logical place to start then, but as Tony started to turn to make his next move, he was confronted once more with the body and the frog costume. He raised a lip, and snatched the box from Cayde as well to rummage through it instead, muttering, "Is there anyone else in here? Do you recognize--Him, look, did you see this guy? He's got all of these rings on, that's the same guy, right?" Now Tony thought he was starting to see things.

Peering closer at the pictures. "...yeah- now that you mention it," Cayde said as he fingered his chin. He didn't have the best visual range but when he was standing still it was easier to watch things, and although the versions of the faces from the newspapers were slightly more horrified from accidentally locking eyes with a frog, they were starting to click into place.

"Are...are they all passengers? Is this guy in the paper too?" he asked, gesturing at their dead friend on the floor.

Peeling paper out rapidly and dropping it to the floor to skim through the next one the moment he got confirmation that he was only potentially crazy, Tony twisted his mouth to the side with some frustration, distantly shaking his head. "I don't know, I don't think--some of these pictures aren't people," he had to observe, and didn't know if they would be wasting time actually reading these articles then, what? Asking very nicely for a list of passengers to compare against? "Do you think these others are more victims?" They might have already wasted too much.

This wasn't exactly Cayde's forte for experience, but he stooped down with Tony to have a closer look at the packing materials. "I have no idea, I didn't exactly have a chance to go schmoozing with the guests. But if they are, and they're all conveniently aboard- but then how can it be that convenient unless they're all like...regulars? They know each other?"

He scratched the back of his head, making something of a face before tugging the hood over his head. Thaaat was better. Hopefully no one barged in on them while he didn't have his helmet on. "Any significance of why this guy has this thing? ...it's all...kind of weird, right? Okay, more than weird." He stood back up, folding his arms. "You said his pockets are empty, so maybe someone was here with him...but I'm not sure when the poison or allergic reaction happens, something from the box? Part of the box?"

His eyes snapped towards the door. "Should we be on the lookout? Damn, maybe I should have kept the costume on. Then again..." He wouldn't be able to keep that great an eye on people.

That was an incredible shift of priorities directly after suggesting that it was the box itself that might have been the murder weapon, making it fly entirely of its own accord out of Tony's hands as Cayde looked to the door. It was humiliatingly loud as it went bouncing across the grimy floor again, and Tony grimaced, holding his potentially poisoned hands aloft daintily.

He couldn't just stay like that, though, and he couldn't seem to bring himself to put his arms down, so he did the next best thing and started talking: "If they all know each other, then the lady from the dock would know who this is, and who'd be sending packages. I had to buy her a ticket, though, she said she lost hers..."

Cayde looked down at the box as well before looking over at Tony. Okay, fair. He watched him a moment as though half-expecting the man to turn green.

"...or she was broke and couldn't afford it," he said as he stooped down to pick up the newspaper said woman graced, skimming for any details regarding her disgrace. "Only one way to figure out if they knew each other, but I don't know how great that'd go if you went flashing that newspaper around."

The disgrace in question certainly seemed to confirm the suspicion that Tony nodded along to slowly, though he was less sure now than he had been when she had been so sticky sweet on the dock about it. Her fortune was gone, down to the last penny after being sued by some of her home staff over 'a matter of violence', as the article delicately put it. "Or she really did have a ticket. Only she hadn't paid for that one, either," Tony proposed, mostly muttered to himself as Cayde continued.

He raised his eyebrows, and suggested, "What, you want to show her the body instead?"

"What?! No! I figure the newspaper's the most convenient way to do it but you don't know who else'll be watching."

Cayde paused, looking back at the body on the floor.

"...so um. Speaking of- I figured we stash him in the frog and you can say he got completely smashed if anyone asks questions...and...that's as far as I got on that one."

"Get her alone, just flirt a little bit," Tony dismissed, like this couldn't possibly be a hurdle, finally flapping is disloyal hands. This was a much easier problem to solve than the moral quandary Cayde then struck him with, leaving him not only with awkward, poison hands, but staring at the body and the costume he had heaped on top of it again.

"Is that...Should we do that...?" he whispered, like he could hide this questioning from his own conscience. He was pretty sure it would be effective. The cost was a more difficult equation. Not that he had a much better idea. He crouched again, pulling the costume up by the collar reluctantly.

"Right up your alley!" Cayde was more than glad to let Tony handle things. Technically he wasn't listed as a passenger, so he wasn't sure how many people might actually notice. Something he also considered briefly before figuring he'd just have to find out. At the moment he was just glad not to have to wear his helmet.

Tony's question got an exaggerated shrug. "Sounded like you wanted to get him out of here without being seen, right? I mean, easy route would still be to go tell someone but word'll spread and I don't know how great this cruise'll be with extra paranoid, panicky people."

Cayde's enthusiasm was met with a flat stare, unimpressed with this new responsibility after already getting too close to the woman with the ticket thing. She was going to try to marry him if he hung around her too long, and he'd already gotten very personal with another body today.

"Get his feet--help me at least," Tony grumbled, gathering up the horrid costume. Nobody was going to want to look directly at it, that would be working in their favour. It might even be that much worse as they came spilling out of the bathroom with the frog man slung between them over their shoulders, Tony trying for a charming smile through his grimace to assure anyone with curious glances that this was perfectly normal.

The Exo simply grinned back. He seemed to debate assisting before stepping over to help tug the rest of the frog skin onto its new victim. It was a lot harder putting it on another body rather than your own. Before they headed out, he grabbed his bag and stuck his fancy helmet on his head before readjusting his hood. Really, it was amazing how many people overlooked the thing and yet clearly noticed and took pains to avoid a frog suit.

No smiles to be seen from him, because certainly a metal face with glowing features would raise some questions, Cayde could only give a reassuring wave as he helped Tony move the frog along between them. He had no idea where their destination was after this, so he hoped Tony knew where he was going. Not much opportunity to have a proper look around the ship when you were mostly trying to avoid walking into walls.

"There's some lounge chairs on the deck, maybe we can leave him there while we--" Tony started, already hearing how it sounded as it came out of his mouth, and sure that leaving a dead body to cook in the sun in a frog costume was some kind of ethical failure that wouldn't be recovered from. In was arguably lucky, then, that the trio were suddenly stopped by the appearance of the footman, who looked as vague and unpresent as ever while his gaze lingered on the frog man, whose costume bulged awkwardly where his clothes had been stuffed roughly into it, and whose head lolled forward and feet dragged.

"I would thank you to keep your composure until we land, sirs," the footman said. "Some water for the gentleman, perhaps?"

"Sure, hey, listen--" Tony rushed by, flapping his free hand and trying not to look like he was sweating too much. "That package you were trying to give me, what happened to it?"

The footman blinked, and offered, "It was signed for."

It had started to sound like a fair idea, but Cayde quickly caught on as to how bad it could get just as Tony started to cut himself off. He nodded slowly. "Yeeeah, I don't think-"

Oh. Company. Cayde looked towards the footman, and perhaps it was a good thing his helmet hid the squint aimed at the man. Tony beat him to any snappy comments, so he could only glance between them, frowning to himself.

"By who?" he asked, hoping he wasn't being too forwardly nosey, but he thought it would be weird to have a package signed for that didn't go to the person that the guy was trying to give it to- why was that even a thing in the first place?

Despite how organized the footman looked, turning promptly to one of his many pockets that looked like it had a whole file system inside to reveal a slip of paper, this must not have been within his typical duties. He had been offering he package to random people, for starters, and now he was also offering Cayde this sheet with another vague blink, just as happy to be rid of it.

Tony jostled the arm around his shoulder, shifting the body up to try to get a better view of the signature, making the frog's head roll from where it had been resting against his chest, to horrendously all the way back. It took some baffled squinting at the illegible lettering for Tony to accept that he couldn't read it, then to notice that the footman was still there and staring at the unnatural bend of their very drunk friend's neck. Abruptly, Tony pushed his head up, keeping it braced while he tried his very natural smile on the staff.

Cayde was more surprised to be handed the thing so simply, and he shifted the paper so Tony could have a good look himself. His helmet hid the wince as he glanced over at their froggy 'friend.'

"Eh-heh...We told him to ease up but uh, you know..." he said with a half-shrug.

"Do we know who sent the thing? I mean like...I didn't realize this thing had a parcel service."

Maybe keeping the footman engaged for very much longer wasn't the best idea. He was starting to look less vague, and Tony's smile turned brittle, eyebrows starting to raise with concern and gaze darting toward Cayde.

"The Express offers many services to keep our guests comfortable," he answered, focus still on the lolling frog. "Including a trained medical staff, should it be necessary."

"Oh, no, he does this, this is normal, this is his thing, he'll snap out of it soon," Tony assured him.

Tony was the one that had been bent on findin the footman in the first place! The Hunter caught the look at least.

"Right, okay got it- didn't see that in the pamphlet. Um, carry on then, my good man..!" Cayde said, waving a hand dismissively.

The guy took the order in stride like he hadn't been eyeing them suspiciously, nodding as though he had successfully performed his important duties and marching off with determination...for a few steps. He didn't really seem to know what to do with himself, and turned to an aimless drift down the first hall that pulled him. Tony watched the whole departure until he was out of sight, then let the tension that he didn't realize he had been holding drop out of his shoulders, only to rapidly push them up again as the dead man's arm started to slip. Asking the footman for help when he just found a body was one thing. Telling the footman they had humiliated and were carrying around a dead body didn't seem as beneficial.

"That's nonsense," he reported now that they were alone, indicating with his chin toward the slip Cayde had gotten. "I can't make out a letter of it. Maybe this gal will recognize it, though. Or we can get her to give us a handwriting sample."

Cayde tilted his head after the guy, waiting for Sundance's confirmation that they were once again alone with a dead body before he looked back at Tony. "What a weird guy."

At Tony's prompt, he studied the signature on the slip again, if it could even be called that. "Well, you could always pretend you were an admirer and ask for her autograph," he suggested, grin evident in his tone. "If she's involved though, it'd just be easier to gauge for a reaction if we just showed the thing to her. But I guess we'd still need a reason why... that isn't 'because the guy with the box is dead.'"

"Do we need a reason?" Tony challenged. He didn't have a lot of mobility under the dead weight, and still did his best to glance around and give an illustrative wave of his hand; they were all stuck on this ship while it was still in the air, presumably including the socialite. She didn't have much recourse if their only argument was 'let me show you something'. Okay, that was creepy, making Tony's waving hand droop, but that same logic did also make another murder seem pretty inevitable. "An autograph is actually..." he added thoughtfully, intending to walk back this creepier tactic, only to conclude, "The artist, from the paper, he'd probably love that."

Given Tony's particular pattern during this whole situation, Cayde only rolled his eyes while he waited for him to finish going off, or at least walk through his thought process. The Hunter tilted his head at him expectantly once the man dropped his hand. He snorted a brief laugh at the proposal.

"Not like we're out here to make friends anyway. Either you'll score an autograph or a slap in the face, I dunno, you seem to know her better than I do, what's your take? Or let's just do this- er."

He glanced at their third wheel. "...are we taking him with?"

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...that last pose looked a lot longer on my phone, oops

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