Mingle ∞ Log
No Lifeguard on Duty
Summary
What's going on?
An
unexpected heat wave in mid-June, coupled with the cycling shutdown of all air conditioning units in motels across the Blocks, has made the summer unbearable. Meanwhile, the ever-eager
storm chaser,
Felix Bjurstrom, has uncovered a
fancy resort with a pool in a diffusion zone only 1 hour out from Panorama. Lucky, right? Well...kind of. It's got some quirks.
When is this happening?
June 10 - 30
What should I know?
- This area is one of many diffusion zones that appear throughout the planet.
- A storm chaser is someone dedicated to studying the cosmic phenomenon in the Diadem. Felix is a pioneer in his field.
- A winding highway filled with old empty barrels will take you to the zone.
- Characters can travel with a friend to save on gas! Parking's limited, so it might not be a bad idea.
- At any given time, there's max several dozen visitors. Most work long hours, some are traveling through the diffusion zones, and others prefer not to risk the drive or waste precious gas, so it won't draw a huge crowd (but there's still a crowd!).
- This is a mingle rather than an event. Plot-heavy elements will be minor. The game's first proper event will be posted in July!
What does my character know?
- Having lost his phone, Felix will spread the word using good old-fashioned printed posters that he's put up around Panorama. A young woman is seen helping him. They appear to be close. Some say that's his daughter.
- Though the timing is impossible to predict accurately, Felix believes that due to this zone's unusual proximity to an anchor point, it has a high chance of persisting for 2-3 weeks.
- Directions are printed on the posters, though characters are also free to stumble across the zone by accident.
∞ Links ∞
Introduction
The resort looks like your typical upscale vacation spot: a beautiful pool, lovely cabins, and plenty of pool chairs. The sky is
perpetually nighttime and there are
two moons. One moon is smaller than its sister and glows purple. The other looks like the Earth's moon. The weather is
pleasantly warm. In fact, conditions are almost
too perfect.
Other
fluxdrifts are here, too, and you might come across them, all of whom are taking advantage of the pool. They'll converse superficially with you and will come and go randomly. You'll want to keep a close eye on your belongings. Other than cooling off, this isn't a bad place to start making connections. Life in the Diadem is better when you've got allies if not friends.
Just outside the resort is a
spacious parking lot, designed for visitors. Nobody's following parking rules so put your car anywhere it fits. If you get blocked in, well, that's a problem for when you leave.
At the end of June, the diffusion zone will flicker and morph into an unremarkable overgrown park, long abandoned to the decades.
Prompts
As you wander around, you discover deactivated androids in many of the poolside huts. These androids cannot be mistaken for any organic species: their chassis is metal, and their heads are shiny. Circuits and wires are visible. But each is dressed distinctly human in a way that borders on disturbing. You spot lipstick drawn on some of the metal faces, as though they're playing dress up...or as if they don't realize they aren't human. One android is frozen in place with a diary clutched in its hands. Another has a hairbrush for its nonexistent hair.
Something seems to have destroyed them—perhaps a powerful EMP wave that knocked them all out. All except one.
The Bartender
The poolside bar is at the eastern end of the resort. There are plenty of seats. A few are occupied by deactivated androids. The bartender is also an android and appears to be the only functional one in this place. He speaks with a modulated voice and has a neutral accent. He exhibits the following behaviors if you sit at his bar:
- Icebreaker. Whether you're alone or with a companion, he'll try to get you all to be friends, asking random self-generated icebreaker questions. He'll be visibly disappointed if you don't play along.
- Bartending. While cheerful, he can't make the correct drink: it's always too strong, incredibly weak, added salt instead of sugar, messed up the ice. He's obviously doing his best, but it's just not working. The harder he tries, the worse he performs until it becomes a comedy of errors with stuff falling over, ice dumped in your lap, champagne corks flying, and any number of slapstick mishaps. You can help him out by mixing the drink yourself.
If you're nice to him, he'll introduce himself as Thomas Lustras. He's happy to
tell you about his son. Strange, you think, but who says androids can't have paternal instincts? Yet, when the android takes out his wallet to show you a photo of his son—named Edward Lustras—the picture is that of a
human child, roughly 5 years old, in the arms of his
human father.
The driver's license in the same wallet confirms that Thomas is (was?) a real person. The picture on the license matches the human male in the photo. A half-scorched business card states that Thomas was a consultant at Outer Rim Resettlements. Thomas believes he's on a company retreat and wistfully declares he's eager to return home to his son.
Maybe don't look too closely. After all, this place will soon disappear. And so will he.
The Grill
It's not a vacation without a grill! Not a grillable item is in sight, though, so you'll have to rely on what you can bring out of Panorama. Some of the visiting drifters will pitch in to share, unloading hotdogs (some synthetic, others authentic, and some far past expiry), burger patties (same) and buns, and "kebabs" made of blocky frozen vegetable squares. The squares vaguely resemble corn, mushrooms, and pineapple. The texture is passable, like a flavor-infused block of tofu.
Fire up the grill and take turns grilling. You'll also have to manage the propane. The grill's also prone to sputtering out, requiring regular minor repairs to get it back up and going. Any loose bolts or screws can be taken out of the dead androids to replace the rusty ones in the grill. You're unsure if you should feel uncomfortable doing that or what, but it is a solution.
Parking Woes
Like any crowded event, the parking lot can get chaotic, and the lawlessness of the diffusion zones doesn't help. While some are happy to help barbecue, others are more interested in picking fights over who got to the parking space first. It won't take much for a fistfight to break out, and a knife fight isn't out of the question, either, though nobody'll be killed (this time).
You can let the troublemakers beat each other, or you can try to intervene if somebody who doesn't deserve it is getting harassed. Just avoid causing too much of a scene. Breaking noses is acceptable; gutting someone head to toe is not. There are Enforcers visiting the zone, and if you interfere with their nice pool time, they won't hesitate to haul away everybody involved and make you sit in jail for a few days.
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diademlogs2025-06-08 10:11 am
karen page { mcu. ota.
wildcard.
This place is less of an oven than the city—whatever strange power's holding it together—but it's still warm, the night's late, and while Logan doesn't care about going for a swim, he ends up dipping in the pool for a minute just to get the sweat off his skin. He's climbing out, bending down to snag a towel when he spots her: hair down for once, drink in hand, and hell, she's somehow got herself a bathing suit. How about that. Hard to decide if he's surprised or not. He's learned she's resourceful, if nothing else.
He's watching a half-second too long. That's all the half-second she needs to catch his eye with a little half-wave.
A quiet exhale escapes him. Yeah, alright.
He takes a minute to pull on his jeans, grabs his shoes and shirt, and makes his way to the other side of the pool, still damp and dripping a bit. Beneath the bourbon and the chlorine, he can smell something fragrant wrapped around her natural scent. Somebody's making the most of this place, huh? ] Feel like sharing?
no subject
still - she's determined to at least pretend like it's just a vacation. like she can just relax, and enjoy the free of it all. and as the days have gone on, it has gotten easier.
she's out by the pool later than some of the other nights, bottle of bourbon in one hand, glass of it in the other. part of her had wondered about going back to her cabin, staring at the sky and letting the warm evening just sort of settle, when something pulls her attention to the pool. a splash, a man climbing out, and-
he's already looking back to her by the time she catches his eyes, and Karen smiles - happy, though also relieved to see a face she recognizes. one who she may or may not have spent the last couple of days trying to decide if she wanted to text. which is silly, given the sheer amount of alcohol she's consumed, but also...
there's no hesitation in waving him over to her hut (it's not really her's, but it's one she's settled in for the day, so it can be if she wants it to be for now). he pulls on his clothes, despite the fact he's still damp from the pool, and Karen also may, or may not, be staring a few moments longer than she really needs to. ]
I could be open to it. [ she says, actively holding the bottle out to him as he makes his way over. ] Haven't seen you around.
no subject
And the booze. ]
Guess I'm not made for vacations. [ Not that this is one, but that's how the rest of 'em have been treating it. Can't blame them, either. He's just...got his mind elsewhere half the time. A responsibility for all the events he can't change right now, can't fix, can't do a fucking thing about.
But seeing her, it's nice to think about shit that's not the universe imploding. Nice to just notice how her eyes linger, and let his own do the same. He accepts the bottle, decides she doesn't look like she'll give a damn, and drinks straight from it before handing it back. Only when he perches on a fancy-looking ottoman does he tug his undershirt back over his head. ]
Out here kinda late. Thought you had work in the morning.
no subject
he says guess I'm not made for vacations and Karen, despite herself, lets her eyes wander over him - appreciative, probably a bit crass. a heat spreads across her face then as she laugh and hides a little behind her cup, even if her grin is still visible. ]
Could've fooled me. [ she says almost in challenge - I mean, she's got it 'figured out'. maybe he just needs to try a. little harder. but the challenging tone is immediately broken by the way she laughs softly a few moments later, shaking her head. ] Maybe you just haven't figured out the bar yet. It is open. Like- fully open. [ she may or may not gesture to a couple of empty bottles of champagne tucked under the table. she laughs again, a little childishly as she sits back in her chair, stretching one of her arms out over the armrest.
some part of her picks up on the fact he's carrying some kind of weight with him. she doesn't know what about, exactly, but her gut tells her it has to do about matters outside of this. possibly back home. still, she tilts her head a little - wondering if he wants to talk about it, but assuming not.
he mentions work in the morning and she snorts, sitting up from where she'd been laying back in the chair to refill her glass from the bottle he hands back to her. ] That was...two days ago? Three? My car's gridlocked in the parking lot, so. [ she shrugs, filling her glass...a lot more than she probably needs to. but here they are. ]
I'm in the market for a new one, if you get any leads. [ a beat, and then she holds the cup out to him in a mock-cheers. she doesn't want to think too much about how much easier all of this is now that she knows logan took the 'bait' of the diffusion zone. she also doesn't want to think about how she may or may not look, after drinking for the last couple of days. how she's wearing a bathing suit that isn't even her's. ] And until then, I guess I'm on a forced vacay.
[ there's a beat, a pause, and then... ] You should stick around. Unless you've got something better to do. [ she is trying very hard not to listen to the way her heartbeat is skyrocketing right about now. ]
no subject
So why's a part of him feeling like it could get complicated?
He shakes it off. Just been a while since things were allowed to be simple. He takes the bottle after she puts it down and tips it toward her in response to her little toast. Here's to them. He doesn't question why she's laid out here, drinking the days away. He was doing the same thing when he first landed on this godforsaken planet. Didn't even need a poolside retreat as an excuse, just a dingy motel and some cheap gas station liquor.
Then he ran into Charles. Scott. Rogue. ]
Too bad. I was looking forward to celebrating your promotion. [ He's teasing. Look, he'd offer his sympathies, but he's pretty sure she didn't give a damn about that job.
Her heartbeat quickens. Logan turns the bottle in his hands. He shrugs. He's not married to his jobs, either. They're contracts, temporary shit with cash exchanged on the spot. He doesn't want anything steady. He's not trying to build a life here. And he takes off too often into the Fringes to do steady.
So yeah. He can skip out on whatever he's got waiting in the city. Figure something else out later. ]
I don't know. [ His lips turn up at the corners. He's already leaning back—evidently hasn't got any intention of leaving. ] Might take some convincing.
no subject
why is it any different, to drink herself away a bit while sitting under the shade by a pool, surrounded by robots, than it would be to do it back at the motel?
and really - logan, so far, is just about the only thing that she's... worried about isn't the right word, exactly, but that she hesitates on. any of this place she could leave behind, especially the motel, the feeling of being watched all the time. but the people she's met? logan himself? he may or may not be one of the few grounding factors. and right now? right now... she's a few bottles of champagne and a few weeks of on again, off again ongoing fear that she's slowly working through.
I was looking forward to celebrating your promotion. she snorts, just once, and shakes her head. a little bit of that facade drops into something more honest, a little quieter, maybe a little upset. but it's fine- she's made her decision, she knows how this is going to go. ] Next time. Who knows- the move might be good for my career advancement. [ her voice is noticeably flat, even for the joke. she's trying, it's just only partially sticking to.
but logan stays - and even as he says I don't know and might take some convincing, he also smiles, just a little. making himself comfortable. it unclenches something that had been tightening in her chest, relaxes something that had been tightening under the surface. she smiles a little, back to him, and pulls her linen cover-up around her shoulders a little. ]
Well. There is- apparently- an endless supply of liquor. Good liquor. And- [ she shakes the edge of her coverup. ] -some of the cabins have clothes. Decent ones. Beyond that, depending on what you're looking to take back with you... but I could always help you look?
no subject
He doesn't know what that's like. Building that kind of life only to lose it all in an instant. With him, it's different. You know, the drifting, the not belonging, he's just used to it. And Karen, he can't help thinkin' she doesn't belong here. None of them do, but she especially feels out of place. And it's not about what she can or can't handle—he saw her take that shot—but...
(Maybe what he's not admitting is that he's starting to feel protective of her.)
He lets the topic flow past. What's he gonna say, anyway? Tell her to check out the waitress for higher poster taped to a diner three blocks from her store? Instead, she smiles and so does he, and if you ask him, that's a better place to be than whatever's waiting back in the city. ]
What, you wanna take me looting? [ A chuckle slips free. He snags the bottle with his fingertips for another swig. ] Not sure Hawaiian prints are my thing.
[ Which is about all he's found here. He's taken a pair of sunglasses, hasn't bothered with too much else. Shorts and bikinis don't suit him. ]
no subject
then it's another sip from her glass, then it's a little convincing, and she's had just enough to drink that she takes the out he gives. she doesn't want to think about another job because that means she's thinking about staying, but there might be a chance he has the right job picked out. whether or not she knows it yet.
you want to take me looting? he says, and Karen can't help the way his chuckles has her giggling, just a little bit. ] I don't know. I think you could pull one off. [ a beat, and then she laughs again, shaking her head and stands. ] But they have more than Hawaiian shirts. Come on. [ she holds out her free hand for him. doesn't really matter that they've just sat down, this sounds... much more interesting. much. ] I'll show you.
[ he can either take her hand or pass her the bottle - she leaves both options open for him, just in case. ]
no subject
A pause. His gaze flicks to her outstretched hand. He passes her the bottle. Their fingers brush, and he doesn't pull away when they do.
His feet are still bare when he pads through the resort, boots left behind in her hut. She steps into the next one, and he ducks under the low doorway after her. Inside, there's a couple of the depowered androids scattered everywhere, gleaming metal skulls staring back at him. Kinda unnerving, even if he's gotten used to it. He doesn't think too much about taking what's here, though. Not like anyone else is using it. ]
So, uh [ he scoops up a slinky bikini, one pink floral strap dangling off his finger, ] what else can I pull off?
[ Definitely not that. He drops the swimsuit—but maybe he's not hiding that he's thinking about what she can pull off. (Everything, he's pretty sure.) ]
no subject
logan makes it easy, to think that this is just a normal thing. just a little flirting, a few drinks, maybe feeling like she can just be a little loose with it all. she feels safe with him, here, and that's not nothing. she recognizes that's not nothing. not when the list of men who have actually made her feel that way is as small as it is.
he hands her the bottle, and she does not look disappointed, though she is very acutely aware of their way their fingers brush. he also stands and follows after her, barefoot, and she leads - her glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. when they duck under the next hut, she sets the bottle down on the closest table, heading into the room like she knows where she's going (she doesn't - this was not one of the huts she's looked through before now).
there's an open suitcase on the other side of the bed that she moves towards, starting to rifle through whatever odds and ends might still be packed away, when he speaks up. what else can I pull of? she glances over, sees the string bikini in his hands, and barks a laugh - her hand coming up to cover her mouth. ]
I mean- I don't know if it'd cover everything, but it's a fashion statement. [ she turns back to the suitcase, pulling out a really ugly, really poorly color blocked hawaiian shirt - just like he'd been referring to before. it's an obnoxious yellow, with leaves and flowers and a kind of terribly shaped hulu girl somewhere in the pattern. as she holds it up, she tilts her head back and forth, like she's actually considering it. ]
You seem like a yellow kind of a guy. [ she is absolutely joking. ]
no subject
Hell, it feels like he's playing house. Like he should have better things to do than follow a nice girl around a pool, teasing her 'til she cracks a smile. Wasn't that long ago when things were just like this. When the world was dangerous and complicated, but they still had time to breathe. And the more he hangs around Karen, the easier it gets to do that. Breathe.
He rests an arm atop a dresser, watches her pick through some luggage. A blindingly yellow shirt hangs from her hands. He snorts. ] You gonna tell me it brings out my eyes?
[ No way he'll be caught dead in a shade brighter than the sun. That boring white t-shirt, though? Now that he plucks up, slinging it over his shoulder. He does often need clothes. They don't last long. Blood or bullet holes—hard to mend that stuff. He's not doing too much searching himself, though, just a token peek into a closet or a drawer. Most of his attention stays on Karen. ]
no subject
except for moments like this. except for when logan grins a little at her, proud of himself for his joke. or when she sees him down the hall coming home from her (now fired from) shift, and they wave. it's been infrequent, these moments, but they've also helped keep her feet under her. and now?
now it's maybe a little too easy, to think only of what's in front of her. of a suitcase of - honestly - mostly terrible clothes. a bottle of liquor on the table. a blindingly yellow shirt in her hands. he snorts, and it makes karen grin, looking back over the article of clothing like it might actually be decent, and not some terrible monstrosity, before she balls it up and tosses it back in the suitcase. ]
It's a very confident color. Whoever wears that really does not care what other people thing. [ he picks up a shirt, and part of karen considers that a bit of a win as she walks over to the small bathroom, checking through the items there to see if there's anything interested, before she's looking back to him again. ]
Next one?
no subject
He glances back at Karen when she speaks. His smile softens, crooked, and he shrugs. Good way to stand out and get shot, too. He doesn't say it. (But maybe that's not a bad idea when he prefers to be the target.)
Anyway. He pushes off the shelf. ] You still owe me a find.
[ Or rather, he's got no intention of cutting whatever they're doing short. Hanging out. Shooting the shit for the next couple of hours. Nothing they gotta pay for here, nobody trying to kill them (yet). It gives him a chance to talk to her. Really talk to her, beyond the quiet waves or the once she brought over a beer. He's usually occupied, is the thing. She's often working her shifts at hours odd from his. Even when they're technically neighbours, they don't see each other much.
But he does think about her. Won't lie about that.
The next cabin door won't budge. Logan frowns, gives it a sharp shove with his shoulder. The slumped-over androids blocking the way push loose. Gingerly, he steps over the pile of three. He sniffs an empty flask on the table, picks up somebody's binder of spreadsheets. Just a lotta numbers that mean nothing. ] We're gonna see what Mr. Accountant here likes to wear?
do not look at the sheer numbers of typos i left in that last tag to you.....sobs
like, for now, seeing logan's soft crooked smile. she lingers on it for a little bit, even when she knows he can probably tell, and it's only when he mentions how she still owes him something good does she shake her head. ]
We just got started. Don't tell me you're already bored.
[ not that she waits for his answer on that end, walking with him to the next room and - when they find the door won't open - steps aside to let him shove it open. her eyes linger a bit on the three bodies, trying to figure out how, or why, or what happened, what could have- no. she shakes her head. no that's not where she wants to be thinking. ]
You never know- he could be a very fashionable account. Or his... roommates. Could have been. [ she snorts a little, stepping over the rest of them to start looking for where the clothes had been put away. a couple of minutes later she pulls out what looks like a matching linen suit, holding it up and - to her credit - holding a pretty serious looking expression for a moment, and then a moment later. ] See- accountants can have style too.
no subject
She rummages, pulls out shit that doesn't suit him but makes him chuckle, anyway. He rifles through a few token desks and drawers just 'cause. Pockets a lighter. Mostly, he watches her. She's at ease here in a way he hasn't seen before. It's nice. He doesn't feel the same—isn't settling into it how others have—but at least when he's around her, he's not looking over his shoulder. Isn't waiting for the zone to flicker. Isn't listening for a gunshot that might go off any second.
This place might be made for friendly tourists, but that's not who's rolled in. These people? They're as liable to start a fight over a square of meat as they are to share a beer.
When she reaches for his hand to tug him into the next hut, he lets her. His feet are still bare. The night sky glows with its two odd moons. His phone says it's 3:12 AM. He was supposed to show up for a shift two hours ago. Can't bring himself to regret blowing it off.
Like he thought: nothing here except florals and fancy linens. But that's not the reason he's here, huh? And part of him doesn't mind that she keeps picking up absurd pieces he'll never go for.
Something tells him she's doing that on purpose.
He walks up to join her while she's bent over another piece of luggage. ] Got something else?
no subject
it's easy to forget the rest of it - the odd feeling of these rooms, these androids, the lives they may or may not have lived. karen busies herself instead with the routine, with the new rooms and the terrible clothes they find. with the way they work through the bottle, Karen feeling more drunk that logan is acting, but it's okay. she feels safe. and maybe that's the biggest part.
they haven't found anything worth the amount of effort they've put in, yet. but even so, she's having a good time, and considering the amount of times she's gotten logan to almost loosen up, or at the very least pretend to try on an item or two. he also doesn't pull away when she has a moment of bravery and reaches for his hand, tugging him after her into the next room. somewhere along the way she picked up another coverup, something a little longer, though still thin and loose. it makes her feel less like she's walking around in a bathing suit, even though they haven't actually stopped in the last few hours. she has no idea what time it is, and doesn't really care.
it's nice, to not have to care. to feel like they can just wander through the night and it can just be easy. she's noticed he doesn't take to it nearly as well, that there's still some kind of distance, some kind of tension that he doesn't let go of, but she does see it soften as the night goes on. and that is enough of a reason for her to keep trying, to feed into the feeling she's trying to create.
and maybe, when he steps in next to her as she rifles through another piece of luggage, she does notice that he might step in a little closer than he did before. ]
I don't know, those polka-dotted golf pants might be the best thing we find tonight. [ she moves around some fabric, looking, and pauses as her fingers brush over something. she straightens, pulling the belt out from the back of the suitcase. she looks it over, turning over the leather, before she looks back up to him - without a trace of the playful glint in her eyes. instead, she looks genuinely excited. ]
Here- this is actually really nice.
no subject
(Well. Not that actually wants to—)
Anyway.
His eyebrow lifts. Yeah? He takes the belt from her hands, supple leather, silver buckle, still new enough. You know what? ] I don't mind that.
[ Her eyes are bright. Logan's expression softens. He glances out the door, realizes he's been here a hell of a lot longer than he usually bothers with. Most he's stuck around the past few days was a few hours. Somehow, the day's nearly come and gone while he's been with her, and all they've done is pick through people's abandoned shit.
He doesn't mind that, either.
His thoughts are on the how her cheeks flushed pink earlier when he follows her back to her hut. They're still a bit flushed now from the alcohol or the heat—warm, but not blisteringly hot. Makes her look lighter, her shoulders less tense. He means to just grab his boots before getting out of her hair. She probably wants to sleep or. Something. They've both got things to do. Except he doesn't, really, and—
She asks him to stay. Logan pauses, boots in hand. Then he sets them back down.
Yeah. Alright.
He sinks into a pile of loose cushions strewn in the middle of the floor. The other bourbon sits nearby. Logan uncorks it, and it's that time of night when he drinks straight from the bottle. He's not tense, just. Unsure of what the fuck he's doing. This is usually when he's alone, at a warehouse or a bar or reading in his room. Filling his hours so he doesn't have to think. Being here, Karen, it's...
New. It didn't used to be, but after everything—years on the run, fighting—that's how this feels. New. Like he's waiting for something to burst through the door any second now, for the world to go up in flames again. ]
You do this often at home?
[ Does he mean the resort or the looting? He doesn't specify. ]
no subject
You know- you actually pull it off.
[ he tosses it back a moment later, but she counts it as a win - letting the feeling of it lead her on into the next room, the next find, the next spot.
she watches him look over the belt, approvingly, and the I don't mind that does wonders, and she smiles, proud, excited in a way she would be a little sheepish about if she were any more sober. as it stands, she lets it dance across her face, watching as his own softens a little right before he looks towards the door.
right. yes. it's late, she reminds herself, and she's nodding and stepping around him back to the door. ] Well- it's something. But we might want to head back. It's... I think it's late? It's hard to tell with the moons.
[ the walk back to her hut isn't awkward, exactly, but there is a kind of anticipation in it. because karen knows what she wants to ask once they get there, but she's not entirely sure how it will land. there's also the part of her that doesn't really know what she wants to call this at all, if anything. they had fun, she's been having fun, and she likes the fact he's here, too- a lot more than is really necessary. a lot more than she probably should, knowing her track record. but-
well. maybe she's thinking too hard about all of this. maybe the alcohol, plus the quiet night, the comfortable warmth of the air, and the way she feels relaxed, truly, for the first time since she woke up in that med bay.
( maybe karen just wants to feel like this, for just a little longer. )
the smart thing would probably be for her to go to sleep. and he probably has work, his next shift, people to look into. but as they get back to the hut she's settled into and he hovers, just for a few moments by the door with his boots in hand, she thinks what the hell, bumping his elbow a little as she steps by him into the room. ]
Heading out? [ she asks, a little nervous, feeling her heart race a little as she pulls out the second bottle of bourbon she had left behind. she steps over the cushions where they're piled in the middle of the floor and to grab the bottle from the other side of the room. ]
Or you could stay- if you wanted to. [ the words are a little abrupt, even as she tries to very casually look over to where he's standing. there's a pause, a moment of quiet. and then, in a similar surge of bravery as before, when she'd set that hat atop his head- ] I'd like you to, but I get it if you need to head back. [ another beat. ] Just for a drink? [ she tries to sound playful, a little cheeky, as she holds up the bottle - even if she's quite genuine in the ask.
the pause feels a bit like it takes years off her life, and the words are already in her throat. no pressure and sorry, I'm sure you have your job and don't worry about it, nevermind. but then he sets the boots down, wanders over and takes the bottle she offers to him after pouring herself her own glass, and. well. her smile is bright as he collapses into the cushions. she resettles a little, less like she would drink herself to sleep on the cushions and more turned towards him, feeling... nervous? maybe? but excited. happy, that he's stayed. ]
What- looting? No. [ she laughs, shaking her head. ] And I definitely didn't go to places like this. Read a few brochures, but I never had that kind of money. Wasn't really my scene. [ which feels... oddly open, somehow. it's not like she's self-conscious about her own financial state, or that of her family's either, but somehow through their conversations it doesn't feel like that sort of detail has ever really come up.
she doesn't mind it, but she does notice it, shifting to be a little more comfortable in the cushions as she tilts her glass to him. ] Going through a bottle of bourbon before bed? [ she pauses, a little sheepish. ] More often than I should, probably. [ and then, very distinctly moving right on by whatever reasons for that answer, or even giving logan room to ask, she continues. ]
So. Are you a bourbon drinker by choice? Or do you just not really care that much?
[ the next couple of hours are spent in easy conversation about nothing in particular. they talk about bikes, about cars, about alcohol, about music, but nothing dips too deep. karen laughs, easily, when logan cracks jokes and lights up a cigar. she might even set her hand on his shoulder as she - clumsily - climbs out of the cushions at some point to head to the bathroom. but it's all nice, it's all easy, and it's those few hours later that sleep starts, truly, creeping up on her - causing her to sink a little more into the cushions than she really means to. ]
Sorry for kind of- taking over your night. [ she says, her words a little slurred from the combination of the alcohol and exhaustion. but she feels good, warm, carefree, happy. she's even smiling as her eyes blink, a little too slowly. ] You pro'ly had other plans.
[ karen is going to fall asleep on him here within minutes - if he was looking for his out. and if he does take it, it'll be at the door that she speaks up - groggily, actively falling to sleep. ]
Thanks, Logan. For... [ a sigh, or is it a yawn? ] Tonight.
Bartender
He has already learned that Thomas cannot be trusted so went with getting an entire bottle on his own. He answered the icebreakers politely enough before headed to drift weightless in the pool for a bit, and he's back now newly changed back to jeans and a Hawaiian shirt he found in the cabin, his hair wet. There is someone else at the bar now as he wheels up to it and smiles at her and her advice. ]
I don't believe I've heard of it, so I'll take your word.
[ It was only invented/made popular around the same year as when he comes from, and Charles can be very traditional with his drinks. He will take just about any alcohol at this point though. He's been drinking since he arrived despite a few early mornings, but never so much that he's become drunk. He has a high tolerance and truly is doing it more for the taste and the way it relaxes him over another reason. ]
If you would be so kind as to pick out a whiskey bottle for me though, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm afraid I've completely wiped one out already.
sparkles at!!!
which is where she is now - dressed in one of the dresses she found in the huts and leaning over the bar to search through the options of bottles within reach. she smiles back to the man as he makes it over to her, friendly, and laughs a little when he mentions not knowing what a long island was. ]
It's a lot of alcohol- all mixed together. And when it's made well, it tastes pretty decent. But uh- yeah. [ she gestures, fondly, towards thomas helping another patron on the other end of the bar and shakes her head. it's obvious that she has either made herself welcome at this bar, or has been a near-frequent attendee here, with how familiarly she looks through the bottles, but she's not too too drunk (yet). instead, she's riding pretty well somewhere between tipsy and very much not.
his request has her perking up, shifting about a foot further down and leaning over again - making her selection out of a different area. ] Whiskey? Here- [ she plucks a three-quarters full handle of some decently expensive whiskey, looking at it for a moment before she nods and hands it to him. ] This is my favorite I've had so far. [ a beat, and then another smile - though this one is more joking, she's pleased with what she says next. ] On me.
sorry for the wait ended up a long week!
She seems as interested in drinking away her troubles as he is too, so they're like-minded in that. Charles has brushed the edge of tipsy a few times as he has started out each day with a morning drink through the evening. He's pacing himself but the splendid nature of having actual liquor in front of him he's embracing. There are a lot of frustrating things about being here, and interpersonal relationships that he's still figuring out, so the freedom is nice. ]
I can't say I'm surprised a drink like that would be called a Long Island. It suits the location. [ He says dryly. New York humor. He may be from the state and not the city, but some things carry over.]
Excellent taste.
[ Charles takes the whiskey with a smile, noting the name right away. He likes bourbon and scotch and all varieties, but sometimes he just wants it straight. He brought his empty glass with him, it's become a treasured object for him while he's been here. He gets a healthy pour, setting the bottle on a nearby side table. He prefers not being in his chair when he can and get some difference, so he reaches up and lifts himself into one of the bar stools instead. He has strong arms from his years in the chair so it's not that difficult. ]
Why thank you, very gracious of you. [ Charles laughs. ] Charles Xavier. I've seen you around the resort the past day or so. Someone else who clearly decided to take advantage of a rare luxury, mmm?