Weeks in the past, but not many [closed to Maxwell]

[takethatnature]

Who: Wilson and Maxwell
When: July 24th, post-revival
Where: The Promenade, and Stellar later
What: Attempts at science and a dinner hate-date
Warnings: A sprinkling of post-excursion-death trauma, blackrom nonsense, anything else in threads as they come up

Wilson's had a busy afternoon. Max Maximum gave him enough potatoes for a full party of survivors or one gluttonous strongman to face down the Dragonfly, and Wilson's combined it with a bug net (in case there's something bug-sized and airborne in the Tommy Bahama), two different kinds of small animal trap, plenty of weapons and armor, the fencing sword that rotates shelves, and a collection of luggage straps and souvenir lanyards from Sundries and Bric A Brac to supplement his dwindling supply of grass rope.

He's on the Promenade at the scheduled time, waiting for Maxwell. The agreement was to meet in the Tommy Bahama, but instead he's in the middle of the hall outside it, sitting in a chair he dragged over from the Drunken Sailor. He's looking out at the passers-by for his companion's silhouette, rather than into the shop.

Comments

[takethatnature]

His eyes flick to the coatrack, facial expression a not-particularly-well-hidden flash of incredulity that gives way to exasperation tinged with jealousy. Ugh, Maxwell's always out-dappering him. Not only did he bring his own top hat, he's got a coat he has absolutely no reason to wear in this tropical climate, just to show Wilson up.

"So I am," Wilson says, pulling a chair out unnecessarily far and unnecessarily loudly and gesturing exaggeratedly toward the seat.

[freedomsuitsme]

Maxwell scowls at the sound.

"Tsk. At least you look halfway-decent."

[takethatnature]

Wilson sits down and scoots the chair back in, producing a series of smaller furniture-against-floor noises.

"Why, yes, I do. It's nice to have my efforts recognised. How did you come up with dinner attire using only an infinite supply of beachwear?" He sounds incredulous rather than admiring. He's certain that Maxwell found that dinner jacket instead of creating it, since it's the right length but a few sizes too wide. But how? The store does have those, Wilson's seen them while searching the nearer reaches for shirts and pants that won't clash with everything he wears, but they're not very common. How long has Maxwell been holding onto that? Or has he found a quick way to locate a particular clothing rack?

[freedomsuitsme]

"It wasn't easy, pal. It took two of me to even stand a chance."

[takethatnature]

"Well, zero of me are going back in there today, so I had to improvise." He drums his fingers on the table, then equips the bug net he crafted just a few hours earlier and swipes a piece of crusty buttered bread out of the air as it floats over to the unoccupied table next to them.

[freedomsuitsme]

"Well, like I said, it's not terrible. I suppose I should be flattered you made some effort with your hair." He reaches up and catches serving of shellfish that's been thrown out of nowhere- lob-ster.

[takethatnature]

"So what have you been up to besides watching me die?" He takes a fork from the middle of the place setting, spears the bread on it, and bites a chunk off. "Made any friends or enemies? I assume you're not just spending all your time smoking successively worse-smelling cigars and practicing your evil laugh."

[freedomsuitsme]

"I've managed to make a few acquaintances. Did you know there are demons on board?"

[takethatnature]

Wilson looks like he's trying to calculate the volume of a cone in his head.

"I know there's aliens and changelings. One of whom can shapeshift into seemingly anything."

[freedomsuitsme]

"I met a demon in Stellar. She keeps tracks of the contracts between all the passengers."