come_sailaway | sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Entry tags:

sunshine, you're the best time i ever, ever had

Who: Marc Spector and you
When: Early June
Where: Various locations
Summary: Just trying to get his sea legs, so to speak.
Warnings: Some cursing, some references to substance abuse. Nothing major. Will update later if needed!

I. a little shopping trip

It's the restless urge to be up and doing something that has him browsing through the shop, maybe grabbing a chocolate bar, browsing through the paperbacks. He's not really one to read all that often, but-- there's Steven and maybe he's trying to decide on a book or two to bring back to their cabin and leave inconspicuously on the bed so he can begin hoarding up a new room. It won't be French poetry or books on the Gods, but... honestly. Screw the gods. He'd rather read some trash paperback about some bosomy chick and her dangerous ex-soldier solving some mystery and falling for each other or whatever any day.

When he's not staring down whatever trash novels are in this place, he's plucking up a few extra toiletries on the way out, maybe a few pain meds for any unfortunate hangovers he might acquire along the way.

He might turn a curious eye to anyone who's in there with him and ask, "Does anyone actually see how this stuff's restocked?"

Or who keeps this shit clean and dust free or whatever. Yeah, yeah, ghosts or whatever. But there's got to be more behind it, right?

II. let's hit the sauna

Self-care might come in the form of alcohol and other substances for Marc, maybe the odd brawl here or there, but here he is, trying a little bit of a healthier way at the spa. It's a good thing there aren't any massages -- he'd not be interested in them anyway. But the sauna? Oh, yeah. He can get behind that.

Really get behind it. Marc finds a time when it seems to be empty enough that he can stretch out with his towel spread out over his lap, eyes shut. Fake some of that peace and quiet he's never truly known in his head, maybe.

It's when someone comes in that he seems to go back to alert, sitting up a bit straighter and clearing his throat. "Oh-- uh. Sorry."

He'll even scoot over to give plenty of space to whoever decides to join him.

III. big pills, little pills

Somehow, Marc ends up int he infirmary. Well, not just... by chance. He's curious, just in case he ever needs to perform surprise minor surgery on himself or needs a hit of something stronger when the alcohol isn't enough to knock him out or bury the bad memories.

That doesn't mean he doesn't scowl a bit at some of the-- medieval torture devices, er, medical supplies. "What the fuck is this thing?"

Do they... do they do lobotomies around here still? Bleed people with fucking leeches, what?

But once he finds the pills, he seems to perk up a little bit. "Hey, they got some of the good stuff..."

Guess who's gonna be sleeping a little easier tonight?

IV. tauva

Maybe this isn't his type of joint, generally, but he's finding himself enjoying the atmosphere... and the whiskey doesn't hurt it either. Better than the place that keeps playing Billy Joel too, in his opinion. He might be huffing out a quiet laugh when he picks up a bottle with yet another weird date he's pretty sure is a lie. Whatever. It could have been back from the beginning of time and he's not gonna be choosy.

"Hey," he'll start if he notices someone close enough with an empty glass. "You want a refill?"

Never let it be said he can't be nice on occasion.

V. wildcard

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"Uh--" Well, that's a way to introduce yourself, isn't it? Not one you get every day.

"Well... better to be Abel than Caine, I guess. Or maybe not, considering how things ended up." But hey, Abel was the favored one, right?

She shrugged. "Matter of perspective, I guess," she said, wishing she could apologize immediately for that introduction. It was just a part of her, woven into the tattered fabric that was her psyche.

Hardly the worst thing there.

But definitely one of the more embarrassing.

"Where are you from, Marc? I'm picking up an accent...I want to say...Chicago?"

Hey, at least as far as he knows, it's just a quirk on her part, or an attempt to be funny. He doesn't seem all that bothered by it, and he gives a nod, letting out an amused huff. "Yeah-- you'd be correct about that. Been traveling a lot, but I guess the accent's never faded."

Chicago, born and raised.

"How about you?"

Diana flashed him an impish smile. It was nice to know that her perfect pitch was good for something. And as it happened, she loved Chicago. It was more or less the only redeeming feature of the entire American Midwest. And oh had it been a happening place, back in the 1920s.

"Originally from Notting Hill," she said. "Like the movie with Julia Roberts. Lost my accent years ago, but I can put it back on command."

Her eyelashes fluttered and all of a sudden, she had an proper RP accent. "Although I hardly have much of a need for it," she said. "Unless I'm trying to be terribly posh. And then, I make sure to spell the word colour as C-O-L-O-U-R."

"Notting Hill, huh..." And suddenly, that is quite a British accent, isn't it? "Nice."

But he may be a little bit biased about those accents. Just a tiny bit. There's a quiet chuckle and a shake of his head. "You're kind of a strange one, you know that? Not saying I don't like it... I do."

And here she thought the dude had game.

Diana laughed, a bright, bell-like laugh that tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Is this your normal approach to women?" she asked, dropping the accent. "I mean, I know I'm a super freak, but I don't normally get called out so quickly."

She wasn't offended. But she was a little surprised.

Hey, no fair. He didn't realize that's what this was.

"Hey, I said it was a good thing. You're interesting." He huffs out a laugh actually. "But, you know... I could make it up to you with a drink. Give me another shot."

She sucked in air between her teeth. "Lucky for you, I'm not just interesting, I'm fascinating." Yes, she could pretend to be modest and lower her lashes, like she'd been taught back in the day, when her only real interest was landing a husband how was richer than Selene's husband.

That just wasn't really her style, any more.

Besides, she was a damn Cainite. That made her interesting by default.

"Not much of a drinker," she said, "but you can make it up to me with a walk instead. I've been cooped up for hours with my roomie and she's not big on the conversation. Besides, I gotta know what's happening at the Goodman and Steppenwolf."

"Oh, well-- my mistake." Honestly, Marc wouldn't go for the demure type anyway. He likes a lady who knows what she wants, who'll take it when she wants it. They should get along just fine if she wants to be bolder.

"Sure, I can do a walk." He's better at listening than talking, but-- he can fill her in on what he knows, sure.

"But you know, feel like I gotta warn you... I joined the marines as soon as I could and barely been back to Chicago. But I'll be glad to fill you in on what I do know."

Diana's eyebrows jumped a little at the mention of the marines, but she decided not to comment. True, she'd pretty much marched against them in the 1960s. But this wasn't the 1960s any more, and geopolitics were infinitely more complicated.

Maybe they'd always been.

It was nice to think that humans were capable of learning from their mistakes. And they were certainly more likely to than Cainites.

She filed away that piece of information for another time.

"I suppose I shoulda asked what year it is for you," she said. "I'm here from 2009, which is way in the future for some people, and way in the past for others. It's hard to keep track."

"Oh, uh... 2024. Bit into the future for you." He gives a shake of his head, a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

"Not enough that this guy can kidnap people from all over, but he's gotta do it throughout time too, huh? Must get confusing."

"So confusing," she said, heading out of the shop, her guitar thumping against her back. "And not just time. There's some sort of element of different worlds, if you can believe it."

She was only coming to terms with the concept of the 'multiverse' herself. Sounded like something out of a comic book.

"But 2024 isn't that far. Please tell me we at least have flying cars. Like in The Jetsons."

"I think I can believe it, yeah." His world is fucked up enough that it's not too surprising there are different worlds. There are different afterlives after all...

"Unfortunately not yet. Uh-- we got aliens. They're kinda assholes though. Oh, and uh. Gods walk on the earth. Kinda. You familiar with Norse mythology?"

She paused in her step. "My father was a professor of comparative religion. I challenge you to find any form of mythology that I'm not familiar with."

Of course, it helped being a Cainite. Knowing that half of those stories came from people like her, being less than subtle about themselves.

Not the Norse gods, though. At least, she didn't think so. There were some Gangrel out there who claimed to be Freya or Baldr on occasion. But they were mostly just talking tough.

"You're telling me they're real where you come from?"

"Geez, my-- uh, twin, Steven, would adore you. Loves Egyptian mythology... I swear he could talk about it all damn night." Or he used to. Maybe being forced to serve the lunar god sort of killed the fascination overall. Hopefully not though.

"But yeah. I am. Thor is kinda... a superhero back home?"

She wrinkled her nose a little at the mention of Egyptian mythology, her experiences with Abe still too raw. Diana hoped she would be able to get over the things that had passed between them. She really did love Egyptian lore. But for the time being, he'd kind of...ruined it.

Along with a number of other things, including her faith in the inherent goodness of people.

"A superhero?" she said, looking down the line of her shoulder at him. "Like...cape and cowl and saving intrepid lady reporters?"

Hey, well, then they'll get along just fine then. Serving an Egyptian god kinda ruined it for him too, especially after all the manipulation and abuse.

And he's never had much faith in people, really.

"Yeah, that'd be the kind. Well, I don't know about the saving lady reporters bit. You ever hear of the Avengers?"

"The Avengers?" Diana shook her head. "That sounds like some kind of 90s hair metal band."

And, given they were talking about superheroes, the title was a little ominous.

What, exactly, were these dudes in capes avenging?

"I mean, to be fair, Thor sorta looks like he'd fit right in with that sort of thing." Totally rocking that hair metal look from what he's seen.

Presumably, they were avenging a lot of problems they may or may not have brought to the world themselves -- depending on who you ask. Marc isn't sure how he feels about them really. They're just sort of... larger than life. Though they did end up saving a hell of a lot of people before they went defunct.

Threw the world into a bit of a spin too, but...

Anyway, he gives a sly little grin, shrugging his shoulders. "Alright, so aside from pirate talent shows and all the shops... what else is there to do around here? What sort of fun do you get up to?"

"Learning about other people's worlds can be wildly entertaining," she said, with a lift of her eyebrows. "Especially when they involve hair-metal superheroes. Honestly, under other circumstances, I'd drag everyone into the theatre some night and make them all tell stories. Except for the fact that we are in no way organized for that kind of thing, half the others would object, and there's the constant threat that the Captain is going to do something sinister."

It also skewed a little too close to the talent show. Diana understood that. And she understood how poorly it had been received.

Maybe in time.

"Other than that?" She made a sweeping gesture. "The usual amenities of a cruise ship. There's a casino, karaoke, I'm sure some people are swimming or something. Not me. I don't swim. I sink."

"Well, damn, and I was gonna ask if you wanted to go for a swim." He gives a bit of a smile though, looking her over.

"But I got stories. A lot of weird shit happens back in my world. Pretty sure I could entertain you all night."

"Careful, I might just take you up on that." Between bouts of terror, living on the cruise ship had been surprisingly boring. She'd developed some sense of routine, just to keep herself grounded, but Diana missed spontaneity. She missed vibrancy and the kind of excitement that didn't require her to pull out a sword.

Not that she didn't have her share of weird-shit stories.

Diana was just...easing into the whole 'living openly' thing. One step at a time. One disaster at a time, really.

"All right," she said. "Weirdest story you've got. Go!"

"Hey, any time. I don't sleep much anyway." And he can't always rely just on the company of his sort-of twin, you know? Besides, he thinks he might like an excuse or two to keep her up all night.

"Weirdest story, huh?" Damn, that's a tough one. "You got aliens where you're from?"

"Aliens?" She shook her head. "Only as an offensive term for undocumented individuals that the alt-right likes to use to make little grannies in pill hats clutch their pearls."

Although, she supposed, it really wasn't out of the realm of possibility that extraterrestrial life existed somewhere in the universe.

The supernatural was real, after all.

"All right," she said, "you have my attention."

"Yeah, well-- I've heard all that before too." But fortunately, that's not the way he's using it.

"Okay, well... years ago, the sky like, opened up, right? And these aliens came through to attack Manhattan. That's the first time anybody ever saw the Avengers. Guess that's what got them together, these aliens."

He shrugs his shoulders. "I guess I was about-- twenty-five? Deployed at the time so I only saw it on the news. But man, it was a trip."

He hums. "Then this giant purple guy came years later with some insane god complex, I guess."

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