come_sailaway | JUNE EVENT: CAMP

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!

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"I'm the fattest and slowest, huh?" Oh, it's kind of nice seeing him willing to tease, to joke. He snorts, shaking his head-- and he wishes he could confidently say all these teenagers weren't seconds away from going Lord of the Flies, but he's actually not.

"Oh, I'm sure I will. Steven Grant, protector against... moody, hormonal teenagers. I'll gladly let them yell at you when they've decided I've somehow insulted their sense of independence."

"You know I think we're one of the oldest people on the ship? Not that I've seen it all but like, we're not even forty? Might get my midlife crisis onset tomorrow at this rate. Maybe we got put in the wrong section or something. Where are all the older people? I was told cruises had lots of octogenarians..." They might've still had a chance of getting out of the camp alive if there was an octogenarian cabin.

"I d'know what the big deal about independence is. I can barely tie my own shoelaces. Music's rubbish these days. Teenagers have no taste. And you know wot? There was a nine year old in the shop the other day trying to give me investment advice? At nine years old? And she was probably right about what stocks to buy too? It was mad."

"Just don't grow out a ponytail and date someone half your age, buddy, or I'm gonna laugh at you." He has no idea what Steven's midlife crisis would look like actually -- mostly because the guy seems to be in a bit of a crisis right now, just trying to figure out his way around things.

"You know what, you sound way older than we are right now. Complaining about music, teenagers... how long until you're chasing them off the camp lawn?" He jokes-- although okay, yeah. The nine year old thing gets him to actually laugh quietly. What the fuck?

"What do you mean, a nine year old was trying to give you investment advice? How does that even come up?"

That mental image makes Steven laugh at himself. He doesn't think he's that sort, but he could be wrong. He could be the sporty little red convertible sort. They'll never live to find out.

"I was just striking up some conversation. They bought a coke and then we started talking about buying into coke and I mean, honestly." Steven just smiles and shrugs. "I work at a gift shop. I've got my books, I've got Gus. Did I think about retiring with piles and piles of-- 'dividends' or wha'ever? No. Course not. I can barely pay off the heating. The world's gone bloody mad, aliens and non-aliens trying to kill us all, people turning to dust and getting attacked by evil magician cult leader mystical jackals. I'm not gonna-- buy shares on the stock exchange." The conversation was so wild that Steven just laughs at remembering it all again.

"They're really smart these days. It's a little scary."

He lets out a laugh. Whatever money he has-- well, it's not clean money and it's not the sort you invest either, he thinks. "Some of the kids here-- they seem to be mature for their age, don't they? Older than they ought to be. Guess it's just the sort of lives they lead."

Except a nine year feels kind of extreme. "Maybe the nine year old could help you budget a little better, buddy..."

"Maybe we're not," Steven points out with a nudge. It wouldn't surprise him if he was to find out that they were the two biggest boys on the ship and all the young people are trying to be adults.

Well, at least Steven's a big boy. Maybe Marc is in the same league as the smaller adults. It's what can happen when an overprotective dominant personality tries to shield the clueless, happy-go-lucky, hopelessly optimistic one from some of life's hardships.

"Oi! I budget just fine, thanks. There's a book budget and a food budget and a oyster card budget and sometimes I even remember I need to pay for the water."

"Wouldn't be surprised." He's pretty sure there are a lot more reasonable, stable adults around them than they could ever hope to be. But you know what, Marc isn't-- that bothered by it. They make it work.

Even if Steven is just a tiny bit clueless at times. But that was-- what Marc needed sometimes, right? Someone to balance out his own pessimism, or he'd be on some nihilistic spiral by now.

"Sometimes you remember, huh? Maybe if the book budget were a little less..."

Well. Maybe it's because of their current predicament? They're like, half an adult each. Of course problems are to be expected, with this kind of setup.

Especially for someone who loves his books a lot. It's hard to give up these things in life that he enjoys for something as meaningless as his... continued survival.

"I'll just drink water at work and take my showers there." He was clocking in long hours anyway, no one was going to bother him for taking up a locker full time to keep his toiletries in there and if he spends a bit more time after closing up to freshen up before leaving. Well, that was when he had work, at least. Now he's even more broke and just. Trying to take things a day at a time.

"Anyway. I don't have a book budget anymore. Gus wouldn't be happy if I tried to clean his tank out less often..."

Or maybe because one's a violent, depressive murderer and one's-- Steven Grant. But hey, at least Steven did manage to hold a normal job. That's something, right? Although he rolls his eyes at Steven's insistence that he had it all worked out.

He reaches up to muss Steven's hair. It's-- kinda his fault Steven doesn't have that job anymore. Or Gus. It's his fault he won't get back to any of it to make it right too.

"But you've got a library on the ship."

Being a marine is a job. And if it's Marc's fault that Steven lost his job because he saved them, then it's also Steven's fault that Marc lost his job even though he can't remember ever helping Marc get out of a particularly hairy military situation.

"Yeah we do. But there's only storybooks in there." Steven loves his archaeology and history and death rituals and he's curious about animals, aliens, all sorts of things. He hasn't found anything non-fiction or scientific or academic in there.

"I picked out some titles I thought you might like. If you haven't read them yet we could read them together," Steven offers.

"Yeah... wonder what's up with that?" What sort of library doesn't have non-fiction sections? Why isn't there anything available anywhere? Even if the Captain's just pulled them into some weird pocket dimension to be dancing monkeys for him...

Why not give them some normal non-fiction shit? Keep up some sort of pretense...

He nods at the suggestion. "Yeah-- I'd like that, Steven."

Maybe mostly because Steven usually starts reading out loud and... Marc actually finds it a little relaxing. Maybe a little fun, too, hearing him get into something.

Steven shrugs. Maybe the Captain just wants to keep them entertained, or all he has access to when the ship calls to a port is some of those horrendous airport novels. He might not have the time or the expertise to curate a tasteful selection of non-fictional titles.

He's feeling a little hopeful about getting back to the ship in one piece right now. Taking in a deep breath, he moves slowly to stand, nearly hitting his head on the bunk overhead but narrowly avoiding it through sheer dumb luck.

"Reading can wait," he announces. He didn't sign up to come to camp to read. He wants to do manly outdoorsy things. "We can go, when you're ready."

"Yeah, alright." He gives a stretch as he climbs to his feet. Steven looks like he's calmed down, seems in better spirits too. Hopefully nothing outdoors wrecks that as they go on their patrol.

"Let's get going then."

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JUNE EVENT: CAMP

CAMP AION

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