come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

early on June 10th, Friday's morning announcements end with a request for everyone going on the latest excursion to meet her in the atrium. she seems in noticeably better spirits than she had been last time, and she leads them cheerfully to the tender. once they are all aboard, and the door is securely shut, the interior fills with gas, and, perhaps, their last thought before they slip into unconsciousness is "oh shit, not again."

passengers wake up on a rickety old school bus, driving down a dirt road surrounded by woods. what is it that they notice first? that, no matter what they were wearing before, they are now wearing a camp t-shirt and legitimately horrifyingly short shorts? the overstuffed backpack between their knees? the words "take one down and pass it around" dying on their lips? the fact that Friday is absolutely driving the bus?

or, maybe the fact that it's already slowing down, pulling up in front of a massive wooden sign, saying:

CAMP AION

when they get out of the bus, Friday is the one to divide them up into their cabin groups, and she is the one to give the counselors their very official-looking clipboards and whistles. she explains that they are in charge, and that she will be back to pick them up in a week, and... very little else. she responds to nothing outside of whatever is on her unseen little script, and she gets back on the bus shortly after, leaving them there.

welcome to camp. let's make some summer memories!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yeah, same. Figured they'd have lights, you know? Because---" Well, why wouldn't they? But apparently the Captain wants them to suffer through pitch black showers. He looks around though, grabs a wastebin or something to try to keep the door propped open so they can at least see to shave.

"And it'd be a hell of a shame to ruin that mustache you got going," Marc remarks as he looks around.

"Think this'll be enough?"

"Thank you, I have tried to cultivate it."

Watson checks the mirror, turning his face from side to side to check the light. "It will have to do," he says. "We may have to take turns in the spot closest to the door, but I'm sure we're both gentlemen and can handle that sort of compromise. My name is Watson, by the way. Dr. John Watson."

There's only so long you can stand around talking to someone while wearing a towel without introducing yourself.

"When I served, pretty sure I've dealt with worse arrangements for getting clean. Figure I can share easy enough." Nothing like communal showers, right? Especially when every guy in there is run ragged.

Huh, that's-- a name. "Marc Spector."

He tilts his head. "Is this the first time you've ventured off the ship or are you an old pro at it now?"

Yes, it sure is a name. A totally ordinary name belonging to a totally ordinary person. Look how ordinary he is.

"Ah, same was true for my own days in the service. This is hardly worth complaining about, in the greater scheme of things. A pleasure, Mr. Spector."

Watson takes a moment to lay out some toiletries on the counter by the sink. "My second, so I suppose that does make me a professional at it. This trip is, so far, much better than the last. I think I may have died by this point into the last one."

Oh, entirely normal. Nothing odd to see here.

"Didn't wait to get right into the killing, I guess?" That's-- good to know. Maybe that means this trip will be different after all? Potentially.

"The killing was immediate," Watson confirms. "The moment we awoke, the rules were explained to us and we were sent out to get to it. None of this waiting around as we've been doing."

"Great." Just great. That means there could one day be some kinda repeat, right? Even if it's not happening right now.

"Does the Captain always find amusement in killing us or does he vary it up a bit?"

"Rather too early to tell," Watson says. "This is only the second excursion. It's difficult to discern a pattern from this alone. I think I'm perfectly fine with not always being murdered horribly, thank you."

"It's always a better trip out when there's no murder involved." Speaking from experience here, really. He moves to the next mirror over to try to shave as well... it's annoyingly dark, even with the door open. He's half tempted to just grow in stubble for a few days, shave when they're back to the ship. It'd be easier...

"Think I heard someone talk about you in the med bay... A kid. With burns? Said you helped him out."

Watson moves slightly to one side to share the mirror as best as they can. It's true that he might look a little scruffier than he likes at the end of this.

"Oh, do you mean Rich?" At least, he can't recall any other patients that describes. "Yes, he's a good young man. You've met him, then?"

"Yeah. I did... in the infirmary. He was definitely singing your praises." And maybe they'd gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but-- they seemed to have worked it out by the end at least.

"Said you were an excellent doctor."

JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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