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come_sailaway2022-06-01 12:16 am
justneedsomehelp) wrote in come_sailaway2022-06-01 12:16 am
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
[Want something else? Leave a prompt or hit me up through PP or at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
noassgardian]
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
[Want something else? Leave a prompt or hit me up through PP or at
no subject
no subject
He has no idea where to even start, really.
"By the way-- Name's Marc."
no subject
Then, reluctantly, "If you know the. The other name. From the news. I'm not. I don't really like to hear it. So I go by Sarge. Apparently it was my rank." And he knows he had to earn that. It's not something HYDRA shoved on him.
no subject
"Sarge, it is."
no subject
So far everyone has been... really nice about it, honestly.
"Anything else I can answer for you?"
no subject
"Uh, guess not. Not unless you know the exit." There's a wry look. "But I appreciate the heads up. This place... it's a lot. It's been a lot."