revivalproject | Taking a Break from SPAAACE!!

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Taking a Break from SPAAACE!!

WHO: Jon & you~
WHERE: That lovely tropical water-planet in the Tarf system.
WHAT: Pit Stop Mini Event! Bother Jon moping and being sad at the beach or get bothered by him one late evening at a local bar.
WHEN: During the event [ July 29th - August 3rd ]
WARNINGS: He's sad, he's moody and in the second prompt he's absolutely drunk.
Notes: Will match format.

a. trying to calm a racing mind

Getting off the ship again for a while is a nice change of pace, and while Jon hasn't actively planned to get involved in any of the trading and has been certain he wouldn't be needing anything, he still has been spending some time to acquire a couple of things. For the most part it have been clothes. But he has also picked up two knives, a small one and a larger one. Less with the intention of using them as weapons, but rather to have them as tools.

He also happened to come across what may count as the local brand of cigarettes, which is good. Especially now that he isn't confined to such a limited space and can actually have a direly needed smoke.

The Archivist has left his purchases on the ship and has wandered off to find the edge of the landmass and with it the stretching beach leading into the massive ocean that makes up the rest of this planet. There he sits down in the sand, gets out a cigarette and stares out onto the water, letting his thoughts drift and dwell and stir up emotions he had hoped to be able to keep locked up.

"...shit." He mutters to no one and pushes a hand up and under his glasses to rub his fingers across his burning eyes. Of course his thoughts would just circle back to Tony. To betrayed hopes, rejections, his own foolishness and a pain that that makes him want to claw his own heart out.

And yet he can't even bring himself to take the man's face off his phone's background.

But of course he can't do that. Not right now anyway. His phone is back at the ship and- He will do it when he gets back. If he remembers to do so. Or maybe tomorrow. Maybe.

...maybe.

b. someone mentioned very, very STRONG ALCOHOL?!

The empty glass hits the counter heavily and Jon vaguely gestures for another before returning his swaying attention to the person to his left. An unlucky, yet incredibly patient local.

"And- and-'nd- then I- aight. AIGHT! Yes? 'M right! Yes. yes..." He jabs the tape recorder sitting next to him on the counter sharply, then nods and squints at the local before declaring loudly: "'Dis! Iunno- Jus'-- Righ'ere. All 'ere. Jus'.... W-watch." Jon raises his index finger and jabs down the recorders buttons at random, then squints at it when nothing happens. "...aw, bollocks. Forgot 'bout them chicken...."

And for a moment Jon looks absolutely crestfallen since those forgotten chickens obviously mean his recorder doesn't work.

His mood changes abruptly again when a full glass is set down before him and he picks the glass up with a grin before turning to the patron on his other side. "Wha' d'you know 'bout amulshifiers? Now hear me out ... !"

Whoever that poor soul might be, they are now at the receiving end of a drunk emulsifier lecture from the Archivist.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Bars, the Soldier has found, are very useful. Not that he can get drunk — at least, not on Earth's alcohol, and he doesn't much imbibe on anything else out of a preference for remaining in full control of his faculties — but bars always contain people, and usually those people have either information or rumors to share. Whether or not either leads to anything useful is another matter, but he'd gained enough in useful tidbits here in there during his time with the Drift Fleet that it's worth the effort.

This particular establishment looks like it might provide something else though: the Soldier is far too aware of his surroundings to not notice the familiar figure at the bar. He resolves to keep half an eye on the man from where he sits, back to the wall. But Jon seems to only get more and more drunk — not unexpected as the man continues to, in fact, drink. But drunk people do not always make the smartest decisions, and Jon had shown some measure of consideration in their encounter during the Calibrations.

The man accepts another drink and the Soldier decides that yes, he probably should do something. He inserts himself cleanly between Jon and the other patron, slipping into the space with no objection from the latter, who shuffles down the bar and away from the Soldier and the grinning archivist.

"So are you really interested in mixing dissimilar compounds, or is this something else?" Based on the level of drunkenness, he imagines it's the second. But what shape that something else might take, he has no idea — nor does he consider it any of his business. But not knowing exactly how Jon might behave while drunk, he figures that perhaps he may be the better sounding board for the man, instead of a local. If nothing else, the Soldier would make sure he could get back to the ships.

If Jon notices that the person next to him changes from one moment to the next, he makes no comment on it. But the reply he receives makes his face light up and he fully turns towards the Soldier with a single raised index finger. "It's SO useful!" The pointing hand opens up and Jon brings up his other hand next to it, for a moment seeming fascinated by it before he starts to mutter excitedly while looking from one of his own hands to the other. "Mixing oil... And water! And water'n oil! And- Water. Oil!..."

Yes, he has a barely touched drink right there in front of him, but right now the Archivist is mesmerized by mixing substances that normally don't mix.

At least until he remembers that he has made a friend over emulsifiers and what little attention Jon can scrape together settles back on the Soldier. "Humans... w-we don' always m-mix well... either. That... Sad."

"And let me guess: oil. And water." Not that he's really interested in what appears to be a contemplation of the basic makeup of most salad dressings, but there are far worse conversations to have. And he deems it best to perhaps keep Jon's attention: the man is harmless — in that he seems to desire not to cause others harm — but the Soldier does not easily trust the locals. Old habits will likely never leave him, and he doesn't consider it a negative.

And perhaps, if he distracts the man enough, he'll slow down the alcohol consumption. He's likely looking at a killer headache in the morning as it is. But if that's what he really wants...

His head tips slightly to the side as he considers. "Yes. People have differences. I am given to understand it as a good thing." Though Jon's words seem to hint that perhaps it might not be so, but he has far too little information to suss out what, precisely, may have brought on such a revelation.

Jon is indeed harmless unless provoked. And he may or may not wake up ridiculously hung over, but at least he hasn't emptied his latest glass yet. His mind has gotten way too tied up by wrapping interpersonal relationships in chemistry. Which is science and therefore a lot easier for him to understand.

He points at the Soldier, opens his mouth to say something - And just drops his finger again, closing his mouth with a somewhat bewildered look. Then he squints.

"Have I seen you before...? I... Believe I have."

The Soldier might be slowly edging that glass away from him. Just tiny little nudges, a bit at a time. Water will likely do the man better, but he can't — and won't — force Jon to drink.

Worth a try though.

He lets Jon prattle on, interjecting quiet little agreements where it seems necessary to keep him going. He definitely doesn't follow all of the science, which probably has nothing at all to do with Jon's level of imbibing, but he can read a conversation well enough.

He follows that finger with his eyes, but it does nothing more than point before dropping. The corner of his mouth ticks up and the Soldier nudges his own glass of water closer to Jon. This would be a prime opportunity to play with the man, but he's not that cruel. "You have, yes. You were rather upset that I didn't answer to a name you thought I should have."

"Oooh..." The Archivist replies in a drawn out sound, nodding as his hand roams the surface next to him for his glass. It brushes past the water and settles on Jon's drink, where it remains somewhat pensively, fingers tapping the glass. "...riiight..."

He looks back at the other man drunkenly before suggesting: "Lemme give you a real name if th' one you got's not one you like. I named th'Admiral after all!" There is a certain pride in that final bit. As if naming a cat is one of Jon's greatest achievements. Maybe it is, though.

He's watching the progress of that hand carefully. The man seems determined to go for the drink, not the water, and the Soldier just resigns himself to the possibility of having to carry Jon out of here. He doesn't look to weigh a lot, so it'll hardly be a burden.

Hopefully.

He's getting ahead of himself though, considering that they're likely nowhere near leaving the bar. And he blinks at that statement, at the pride expressed therein. Jon is really just entirely strange to him, drunken antics aside but well, he had been considerate of the Soldier. "Do you want to give me a name? Why?"

No, Jon does indeed not weigh a lot. Even less since he has stopped consuming actual food and stick to the recorded statements he finds to sustain himself and safe the actual food for those among their group that rely on it. He still has his tea, at least.

He gives a sloppy shrug in response. "Iunno. Havin' a name for you seems... Easier. Than callin' you 'He who does not wish to be named'." A pause as Jon picks up his drink to take a long sip from it. Though the frown on his face doesn't wane.

"...that'd be a pain to fit into a tax form..." He pauses again, then adds: "How about Jonathan? We can both be Jon. Or d'you think people might confuse us? The two Jons... Have you... Have you ever heard of Lost Johns' Cave...?"

"Hey sunshine, this a bad time?"

The Hunter Vanguard's familiar voice rings out over the crash of the waves. The heavy sound of booted steps on sand grow gradually closer. If this was a one-man party, it's about to be rudely crashed.

A thud hits the sand, along with the gentle clink and tinkle of glass bouncing against glass. It's not the Exo that's settled beside Jon, but a crate of bottles. Filled with liquid. Someone's been busy and it seems he's learned not to overlook any such opportunities. Imported liquor for the bar? Hell yes.

Cayde settles down not too long after, emitting a long sigh he simply has no real means to expel, but still makes it convincing.

Sunshine.

Now that's not something anyone has called Jon before, but it's not the reason why he flinches at the sound of Cayde's voice. It's rather that Jon hasn't expected to receive company and he quickly straightens his glasses and expression before turning his head to the Exo in time to see him set down his newest acquisitions and sit down. Jon tilts his head towards the bottles, though isn't exactly surprised by the sight.

"Hello, Cayde." He says, giving the cigarette between his fingers a little flick. "Had some successful trades, I see."

"Oh yeah. The locals love some good stories, and playing a few rounds of poker went pretty well too," the Exo grins. "They also shared the sentiment that it is a woeful shame to have a bar and no decent beverages."

He gives the crate a pat, pulling out a few bottles one after the other to look over. "Probably won't be stickin' around here for too long so I guess we should make the most of it. How d'you feel about some target practice?"

"They do indeed like stories..." Jon agrees with a little shrug. And terrifying stories he has a plethora to share.

He picks up one of the bottles himself and contemplates the label. It may be in an alien language, but at least he can also understand those. "See, if we were able to establish trading routes to planets like this one, we might have an easier time acquiring needed supplies..." Jon muses aloud and looks up as he sets the bottle back and Cayde brings up target practice.

Oh. Right! Apparently his time to dwell gets cut a bit short.

"S-sure, why not? Actually, I... " He leaves his cigarette between his lips and reaches around to pull forward his bag and quickly dig through it. "I have been... Thinking about doing that. Before ending up here, and..." There's another shrug. No need to make it obvious to the Exo that he has been brooding.

Can't hide certain tells, especially not from a seasoned poker player. He may not know exactly what's going on, but between Tony's reaction about his tea jest and Jon all but moping about on the beach, he's got a hunch or two. Too much free time either way leaves too much time to think. Maybe this is also Cayde's idea of helping a guy unwind.

Also, he feels it's his job to get Jon familiar with the weapon he intends to use, especially now that they're given a chance to actually do so.

"Great! Did you bring it with you? Even better. Saves a trip. I meant to make one back to the ships anyway to stow this, but whatever works."

Jon is particularly bad at hiding anything. He will mainly try to redirect the attention elsewhere. And target practice is a welcome enough distraction than having to answer any questions.

"I will try my best not to turn your valuables into accidental targets." Jon assures as he pulls out his small gun and with one simple, yet surprisingly swift gesture along its side has the alien weapon active as indicated by two glowing bars of green and purple light coming to live along its side and a short, low whistling noise of the device powering up.

"I sure hope not!" Cayde gets up, giving the powering up weapon a wary look before he dusts himself off and takes a glance around. He considers their surroundings a moment before nodding and offering Jon a hand up.

"Okay, so first, just to make sure we aren't going to blow up any rocks with one shot before I have you aiming at any, how about you shoot right there just where the waves come in. Or try to," he suggests.

Accepting the help the Exo offers, Jon gets to his feet as well and turns his attention towards the ocean. Probably not the worst idea. Especially since Jon's initial plan had been to simply try shooting some of the trees nearby. Which may not have turned out too well in retrospect. He nods once and takes aim at the water, not bothering too much with proper aiming before pulling the trigger.

The shot that erupts sends the Archivist stumbling backwards with a yelp and the resulting energy bolt darts towards the water at high speed. Not aimed low enough to hit the water right away, it travels further, its passing pushing the water beneath it away until it gets swallowed by a wave.

And all Jon can do is stare. "...shit."

"....and that is why we practice."

Cayde continues to stare out at the water, maybe looking for any fishy casualties. "So that was a thing." He eventually glances back at Jon, brow quirked. "Ready to do that again?"

b;

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a.

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B - Because he always tries

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