JUNE OPEN LOG

[sailmods]

[but, hey: you shouldn't be left out of the camping fun just because you didn't think to sign up, or you only got here yesterday, or actually you only got here today and you have no idea what's going on! because the camp can come to YOU!

meaning, shortly after seeing the others off, Friday returns to the atrium and begins setting up a few items she's brought from... somewhere, one assumes? a pup tent. two sleeping bags. a tent stove. s'mores accoutrements. there's a fake potted plant that she decided looked enough like a tree. all pushed together in the middle of the atrium.

at her spot behind the desk, she looks visibly pleased with herself. she's doing her best.]

Comments

[businessorlibation]

1. Pillowfort
The first half of the day once everyone leaves for the island, Johnny spends in his room, waiting for the television to turn on. Waiting to see images of graphic violence and blood. But this time, that's not what happens. It is quiet and still, and around lunchtime, Johnny actually decides to go out and get food.

And on his way back, he sees the atrium in its current dressed-up state and quickly realizes there aren't nearly enough tents and sleeping bags for everyone left on the ship. One conversation with Friday later, and he has sufficient sheets and blankets to set up sleeping pallets and blanket forts for everyone.

If you pass by while he's working, you may get conscripted to help set up the space. Johnny seems very excited about being able to participate in the spirit of camping, despite not having signed up to leave the ship.

2. Haversnack
Smores are a new experience for Johnny. He is very carefully trying not to burn his marshmallow, watching the surface closely for proper browning, as if he's trying to get a good grade in marshmallow roasting.

"Really, what I think this could use is some tart raspberry jam. It'd work with the chocolate and the cloyingly sweet marshmallow. What do you think?"

3. Worrywart
As the week progresses, though, the cheer wears thin. There's more days where Johnny lingers around the buffet instead of the atrium in the mornings, as if waiting to see who may have died and woken up back on the ship and decided to drag themselves to get food. The shiny playful demeanor gives way to visible anxiety and even occasional moments where he gets snappy with people.

Help calm him down, perhaps, or suffer his frustration when he bitches at you about spilling something on his clothes or otherwise get in his way?

4. Wildcard
darkersolstice or darkersolstice#9463 to plan a thing. Johnny may also be found on the sports deck, playing around since he can't train with Sarge, or at the bars as usual.

4. Wildcard, Morning sometime before Pillowfort

[pineapplesalmon]

César's been full of nervous energy all morning, occasionally bouncing his leg or fiddling with his silent pen. They're waiting for the TV to come on and show them their fellow passengers being tortured in some way. He distracts himself with working on his interdimensional phone design, but even that can't keep his interest.

A couple of hours after it's still quiet. César stands and starts walking towards Johnny as he reaches into one of his belt bags. He pulls out a folded over sheet from the cruise notepads that's held closed with a piece of tape on either end, and he gently holds it out to Johnny with one hand.

"Johnny? I, ah. Should probably explain this more, but... here. This is from Rich." César's face is already mimicking an apologetic puppy because he can guess at the contents.

Hi Johnny,
If you're reading this, I'm guessing I've just left for the excursion a couple hours ago. I didn't tell anyone I had signed up because I didn't want you worrying about me. If that just made it worse, I'm sorry.
I'm really not used to people being concerned about me. To be completely honest, it usually pisses me off. Because I'm tough enough not to need it, or I feel like I don't deserve it, I don't know. It makes me feel like a child, so I was avoiding it. César was the only one who could get through to me, which is super annoying, but I guess it's why I'm writing you this.
Speaking of César, I'm guessing he's with you right now. Keep him close by. I think the both of you are going to need each other this week. And try not to worry, as impossible as that sounds. I'm going into this knowing what to expect, mostly thanks to you. I've made sure to brush up on my survival skills from Scouts, and I'm keeping in mind what kind of media I've seen that happens at camps. Sounds weird, I know, but from what you said about that murder competition, I think it'll keep me prepared.
I'm going to do everything I can to look out for Watson. I know it's not an excuse, but I did feel like I kind of had to sign up, after seeing his name there. After all you've done for me, I think I owe you all a favour, and this is what I could think of.
Anyways, take care of yourself. You've got a life to live, and I don't want you spending all of it freaking out over some kid who's got nothing to lose. Trust me, the whole 'journey to find myself' thing is probably what I need right now, even if it's a little life-threatening.
Rich

[businessorlibation]

Johnny's face closes like a fan as he reads. He doesn't seem to react at all, until he reaches the end and crumples the letter up in his hand, lifting his head and looking at César. His eyes are intense, burning, but the rest of his face is still so careful, as if he's not allowed to let his feelings show.

No, he's not sure what to say, the words caught in his throat like he's choking on a chicken bone.

[pineapplesalmon]

Watching Johnny's face close up is the hardest things he's done since those first moments that Watson came back from the dead. When Johnny crumples up the letter and looks up to him, César won't let himself look away from that gaze, as much as he wants to. I Johnny mad at him? A spike of anxiety. No, they'll work through this. Breathe.

Slowly, he sits down on the bed or couch–whichever is closest–so he doesn't loom over the other man.

César has to fight to start his own words, swallowing before he speaks quickly. "His mind was made up already. I-I did what I could to help him prepare."

[businessorlibation]

"You should have gone with them." That comes out calmly enough. Even, slow.

His voice doesn't stay like that for long, though.

"You should have gone with both of them--you know they're going to be going through some sort of hellish torment, and you just let them go and stayed here with me, instead. When I know. I know you're the daring, bold, brave sort of person who would be out there with them. I can't help them! You could! Look, I'm going to be fine, we're not even being treated to a jolly murder pantomime this time! They're out there, the two of them, and they'd be safer, better off if they had you, too."

[pineapplesalmon]

Johnny sure is angry but what he says sounds so entirely nonsensical to César that it blossoms into confusion instead of fear or anything else. César's voice stays even throughout. The logical fallacies he thinks he sees trap him into being calm.

"But I'm not Rex. I can't fight, Johnny, and I don't know if I could take lives if it was necessary. And we don't know if the boat is safe yet. My decision to stay... it's for both of us."

[businessorlibation]

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, taking a huffy breath.

"You'd be able to do something. You're smart--brilliant, you'd figure out something. I can't do anything to help Watson, and now I can't even help Rich, either."

1

[lachtara]

Emet-Selch makes an appearance at the excursion is by way of idle curiosity alone (and some convincing, admittedly). None of which involves an overabundance of enthusiasm.

So when he's asked to help set up the festivities when passing by this stranger, it's that same lack of enthusiasm that spills out in his answer. "You want me to make ready for something I have barely attended?" He folds his arms in silent displeasure.

[businessorlibation]

"Look, hold onto that attitude if it keeps you warm, but this is already a better situation than last time I stayed aboard for an excursion. I'm not ordering you to do anything, I'm asking."

And he just keeps going with his fort construction.

[lachtara]

To which he doesn't move in order to help. Instead, he continues to look on with a measure of skepticism. "What was it like 'last time'?"

[businessorlibation]

"Every screen on the ship showing how those on the island were murdering one another. People arriving back aboard, the morning after they died, angry or sad or bitter about what had happened. Knowing that people I cared about were out there, and would die at some point during the trip."

He shrugs, going back to fort construction.

[lachtara]

He makes a face; a disapproving scrunch of his nose and the furrowing of eyebrows. "That sounds less like an excursion and more like needless bloodletting."

[businessorlibation]

"I quite agree, but that's how things are on this ship. Violence and danger are part of the itinerary, it would seem."

Johnny's snark is mild and bitter, and doesn't seem to be directed at Emet himself.

2

[theweakhavepurpose]

Alright, so Pratt has eaten his weight in mashed potatoes and coffee, and slept for twenty hours. He's also washed his uniform... a few times. Which means he almost looks human and less like an escaped convict that hasn't had a decent meal in months.

The little atrium camping setup is frankly ridiculous. He's from Montana, this looks like something Xander would have done in Malibu and complained about 'roughing it'. But you know what, he's here, he's sorta alive and fuck it - he's gonna roast a damn marshmallow or two.

"Jam? Maybe. Knew someone who would put strawberry syrup on them. The kind you get for sundaes." His voice is low, gravely, and weak, the tone of someone who hasn't done much talking, but has instead done a lot of screaming. "They also make this mint chocolate that's good for melting. Never got around to trying it."

[businessorlibation]

"Hm, I think if I did mint chocolate and marshmallow, I'd want to put it on a chocolate biscuit or something, instead of a graham cracker. But I can definitely see strawberry syrup going well with everything."

He offers Pratt the marshmallow bag and a roasting skewer helpfully. "New arrival, I take it? Johnny Summer, cabin 102. The ship's usually livelier."

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Yeah. A few days ago. Deputy Pratt." He takes the skewer and looks at it strangely before sitting down with the bag and popping a marshmallow on the end of it.

"Been a while since I've done this." as if he's apologizing for something when he hasn't done anything yet. "Seems real empty when there's no one around. Don't like it, makes me nervous."

Though he has a look like probably everything makes him nervous.

[businessorlibation]

"A lawman--I'll need to introduce you to Crabb at some point. She used to be a police inspector, herself. She's not on the excursion this time, even. But yes, everyone ought to be back in a few days. Though we still rattle around the ship like marbles in a tin can. There's somewhere between fifty and seventy-five passengers, and this ship was clearly built for hundreds."

Pratt seems like the laconic type, which is alright, because Johnny is glad to carry a conversation.

[theweakhavepurpose]

"Yeah, in Hope County, Montana." He sets his marshmallow to roast, turning it slowly so it browns on all sides. He may not have done this in a while but there's some muscle memory from someone who has roasted hundreds of marshmallows in his time.

"That's a lot more than I expected considering I've seen about eight people." Granted that's likely because he hid in his room and also slept for a full day. "Excursion? Like... offship stuff? Never been on a cruise."

[businessorlibation]

"Mm, they're opportunities you sign up for in advance, to leave the ship. Last time, people were told it would be a strenuous hiking trip. It turned out to be more like...a group gladiatorial battle, survivor takes all."

And yet, everyone fucking signed up again.

wildcardish around the atrium camp

[pointofhonoria]

"So, I got my first mystery gift today."

Crabb plonks herself down by Johnny and what that gift is will be obvious enough because there it is on her lap: a life-size plush version of a very familiar weird little dog.

"Gotta say I almost had a bleedin' heart attack when I opened the box and saw, though it was the little fella himself for a second."

It may or may not be surprising that Crabb stayed behind, this time. It depends on what metric you rate it on. After making it to the last day of the last excursion and how she did? Maybe not. Considering who she is as a person? Maybe.

[businessorlibation]

"Requin! I almost expect it to be slobbering. How...interesting. Do we tally this among 'comfort objects' or 'things meant to disturb us slightly'?"

Don't ask how many of the latter category Johnny's received. His most recent box probably falls into that category.

[pointofhonoria]

"I know, right?" She turns the plush to look it in the face. You really can just picture the slobber. "Keep expecting it to yip at me. Honestly, might have to split the difference on the tally; makes things a bit more familiar, I guess, but the uncanniness... can't help but not trust anything to be totally innocent around here, I guess. Sure gave me enough a moment of worry."

Kinda easy to start seeing a threat in every corner after a lot of what's happened since she got here.

"It's weird, how random the gifts are. Guess it makes as much sense as anything else, here, but..." She shakes her head. Still.

[businessorlibation]

"I don't suppose you'd let me hug the beastie? I definitely miss him, and his owners, dearly." Regardless of how often he'd had to deal with puddles of drool in the elevators of the Margrave Building or anything else.

"I've...definitely received some odd gifts, myself. Some are very personal in nature."

[pointofhonoria]

"Sure, knock yourself out." She hands the plush over to Johnny and sits back a bit, keeping her gaze on him without really focusing it too hard. "Has been weird, coming back in from a patrol or, well, whatever—it's not like I'm doing normal work around here, y'know—and not being greeted by the little guy. Almost as weird as not having Ferrier and Marguerite around."

But thank god they're safe at home, by whatever measure of 'safe' there ever really is back there either these days. At least if time doesn't seem to move on back home, as she's still rightly assuming even if based on faulty reasoning, there's even less to worry about.

"Do I even wanna ask? Actually, no, don't answer that. What's the weirdest thing you've got that isn't like I'm picking a locked draw by asking?"

[businessorlibation]

"A bartender's guide. One published in 2011 with all kings of interesting new cocktail recipes." Much safer to discuss with her than the dicks.

He squeezes the Requin plush lightly, letting out a bit of a sigh. "Good boy."