[open] posessed by the spirit of margaritaville

[broshaw]

Who: Sharky Boshaw & YOU!
When: June, post-camping trip!
Where: All over the promenade, or dealer's choice!
Summary: Sobriety was nice while it lasted, but Sharky never wants to walk a straight line again. He's got marshmallows to share, drinks to try, and hopefully, he'll get back to his room in one piece.
Warnings: Check his permissions for general warnings; alcoholism is going to feature pretty prominently here, he'll probably throw up at some point and there's a 50/50 chance he's getting naked at least once.
Notes: These prompts supply a pattern of how he's spending the majority of his time, which means yes, he does wind up black-out drunk in the atrium more than once... (I'll match tagging styles!)

[euphoria] day-drinking on the promenade
[The camping trip hadn't been bad, or anything, but Sharky is more than happy to be back on the ship. More specifically, he's stoked to be back in a place with infinite alcohol; the dry camp situation had proven... fucking rough, if we're being honest. He's never signing up for anything again -- at least not until he can confirm there will at least be beer at the destination. (Much like a feral cat that's gotten accustomed to living under the roof of a lonely MILF, Sharky has gone soft, quick. Not that you'll hear him complain!)

Some parts of the trip were okay, though! Like, there was fire. And there were cool people to hang with, shenanigans to be had, and best of all: new clothes! He's got three pairs of jean shorts now, plus a sick Florida shirt. (The USC one, he can take or leave. Who gives a shit about college, man!) He also came back with two bags of marshmallows shoved in his backpack like contraband.

During the day, Sharky can be found meandering between the shops on the promenade, usually with a complicated-looking drink in hand. He's got his ship-branded tote, but this time his water bottle is full of actual water (which he is drinking, thank you), and he's got a bag of marshmallows with him. For snacking, obviously! He's feeling just one drink shy of tipsy, which means he's in a sharing mood. If he didn't see you at the camp, he'll immediately single you out and ask:]

Hey! You wanna marshmallow?

[excitement] regular drinking at hurikane
[Ahhhh, that's fuckin' better. Sharky is well and truly in it to win it now, having booted and rallied once already before getting an early dinner and starting up with his new pastime: trying weird fucking drinks from Hurikane. It's like he can say any combination of words and the ghostly bartender (named Brad) will make something for him to drink. He's been here for a bit now, and there are a variety of glasses on the counter in front of him. Noticeably enough, he still has his trusty water bottle, although it's a little too full for a guy who's turning the bar into a Baskin Robbins.

If you walk into Hurikane while he's there, regardless of whether or not he recognizes you, he will lift his drink and immediately shout,] Heeeeeeeey! [-- Not even because he wants to talk! He just knows how fucking radical it is to walk into a bar and have someone acknowledge your presence and wants to share that with you. Of course, if you look even remotely interested in what he's drinking, he will loudly shout the name out, no matter how horrific it is. It's clear by the way he moves that he is very much drunk, and from the grin on his face, that's just the way he likes it.]

[confusion] maybe it's time to stop at the atrium lounge
[Ooooooooh okay, that was no bueno.

It's late at night and Sharky is Fucked Up with a capital F-U. He makes it from deck five to the atrium, easily distinguishable from the sober crowd by the way he staggers and sways along the halls. He almost throws up in the elevator, which is why he stops off at the atrium, collapsing into one of the many chairs scattered around the perimeter. Unfortunately, his water is long gone and forgotten about. He'd thought he'd been pacing himself, really fuckin' had, but now the world is doing that uneasy swirly tilt all around him and if he looks at anything for too long, he starts to feel like his insides are going to fall out via his mouth.

He actually has no idea how he managed to get from Hurikane to the atrium. He's not sure how he's supposed to get from this extremely comfortable and solid chair all the way back to his cabin. And he knows he can't do it without throwing the fuck up, which would just suck because he had all those delicious little finger sandwiches a couple of hours ago and he would like to not toss those up. He's so busy trying to just focus on his breathing and not feeling like shit that he doesn't notice if anyone happens to come up around him. Honestly, he probably looks like he's sleeping, anyway...]

[wildcard] dealer's choice
[Put your character somewhere and a drunken Sharky will accost them! (Message me if you'd like, or surprise me!)]

Comments

Drinking at the Hurikane

[ring_for_giles]

Giles frowns and looks around to establish that no, no there isn't anyone else the 'Hey' could have been addressed to. He's fairly certain he doesn't know the man that called out, but he's not unused to people who've had a touch too much to drink acting like they know him. In his experience it's always easiest to simply smile and go along with it

"Good evening," he says, taking a seat by Sharky and making a hand signal to the ghost bartender for two more of whatever he's drinking "Celebration or consolation?"

[broshaw]

Smiling and going along with it are exactly the two things Sharky loves to see when he's four-of-five drinks into a bender. Drinking on your own is fine and all, but company usually makes things marginally less depressing.

Not that Sharky's depressed! What the fuck would he be depressed about? Free food, free liquor, just got off a camping trip that made him flashback to uncomfortable eighth-grade memories -- what more does a guy need?

"Goooooooood evening," he replies, probably in the best mood he can be in. "It's a celebration, man! I was just telling Brad all about camping and shit. Not that there's much to tell, you just sorta sit around for a week wishin' there was more vanilla extract on hand!"

[ring_for_giles]

He takes a sip of his drink, mostly to be seen to be partaking than anything else. He has no intention of catching up or keeping up, but when your main experience of alcohol comes from times when you're meant to be up and working before dawn the next day, a habit of merely pretending to drink forms very quickly.

"That does sound like cause for celebration" Giles isn't sure whether that's because it happened or because it's over, but he figures it doesn't really matter either way, "How was it? I've never been camping myself, but I'm sure there's more to it than merely 'sitting around' as you say"

[broshaw]

Oh, yeah, if Sharky thought someone was trying to catch up to him, there would have to be dire warnings involved. Sharky is pivoting ever-so-slowly towards browning out, which is sort of like blacking out but not quite as serious.

"It wasn't, like, terrible or anything," Sharky's willing to admit that much at least. "There was some forest for people to hike in, and a lake to swim in, and, uhhh... arts and crafts? And fire. Man, I did fuckin' love that part. You notice how there aren't even any fire pits out on the deck? There should totally be fire pits."

Hmmm. But he's heard the captain's a dick, so he probably can't just like, request it... Eh, whatever, he'll figure that out later.

"Anyway like, yeah, it was just mostly people running around doing whatever they wanted. Like, no real organization at all. The only problem, dude, is it was completely fuckin' dry. And nobody warned me beforehand!" As shown by the number of empty glasses around him, that was probably not a healthy call.

hurikane; im sorry for the edits omg. i havent woke up yet.

[opheliac]

(every so often, jinx asks herself "why in the hell do i keep coming to this bar?". all it does is give her a reminder what things could had been if she had just not did what she did at her party. if she just kept everything to herself or the alternative talked about their friendship, venti wouldn't had left her alone on the dance floor.

but now, it's okay!! because venti is here with her just... in fairy form(a doll). and maybe one day, he'll turn back into his other form but so far, it looks like he enjoys being this tiny little thing and she'll leave him to that. as long as he stays with her and be happy, that's all it matters!)

(so entering in the bar with the doll in her hands, she sees a man she hadn't seen before. the way he greets her is something she is very use to and familiar with. the last drop, a bar back home, had many drunkards slobbering all over the place on the bar counters. this sight didn't make her feel unease if anything, the quite opposite. flashing a big grin, she waves back.)

Hiya!

(jinx skips in further the establishment and takes her place at the bar -- setting "venti" on the table.)

Hittin' the sauce pretty good, huh?

[broshaw]

[Oh, cute doll. Anyway!]

You fuckin' know it, girlie! After that fuckin' camping bullshit, I need to unwind.

[Somebody would have been probably more entertained with blood sports... Not him, though, obviously. He's just vibing and wishing that maybe there had been a little more mudwrestling and drinking to be had back at Camp Aion.]

You -- did you go camping? [Definitely thinks he may have seen her, maybe, she's got blue hair and pronouns and that is PRETTY SIGNIFICANT.] Did you make that dude there? [Fingerpoint towards the doll. It's cute!]

[opheliac]

I sure did, Beardy! Camp was pretty fun for me, guess someone tried to kill ya? If so, you gotta give me details. Even if it's gruesome! Don't leave ANYTHING out.

(she follows his point to the doll before sitting upright.)

OH! — No, no, he came when I got back! His name's Venti.

(jinx gently grabs a hold of him then scoots the doll a little closer to sharky so he can get a closer look if he liked.)

He doesn't really talk much in this form but he can communicate it different ways. We stopped by 'cuz he wanted a drink!

(she makes the doll nod in agreement then have him face at the bottle selections on the shelves.)

[broshaw]

Nahhhh, nothin' like that... [He... is totally not disappointed by that, obviously!] It was just boring and there was no beer to be had and I shoulda known I wouldn't wanna go camping!

[Oh well... He's here now! And he's going to think twice about signing up for anything that might remind him of either the apocalypse or his awkward adolescence. He's also gonna think twice about believing Jinx -- but hey. He's been there. Sometimes you get a little crazy and you personify an object that holds great personal meaning to you, sometimes to the point where when you hold (or wear) that item you feel like it's a different person entirely.]

Okay, heyyyy Venti, what is up. [And you know he's gonna give that little doll a very little fistbump, because that's the appropriate reaction to interacting with a doll like it's a real person.] Ooooh you guys should try the Miami Vice!!!! Fuckin' delish, man, [And look at that, he's ordering a drink for little doll Venti and Jinx to share!!!]

Atrium

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Oh shit its the cops!]

Sharky?

[Okay its one cop. But still, the uniform, the look, hes even gonna do the cop stance that screams "you know what you did".

On the plus side he looks a thousand times better than their last meeting since he's showered a bunch, eaten a ton, and slept for literal days. He even managed to get most of the blood from being stabbed out of his shirt.]

Holy shit Sharky how drunk are you?

[broshaw]

[OH SHIT IT IS THE COPS!]

Mmm? [Sharky opens one bleary eye, but the lights behind Pratt's head do that awful halo-pinstripe-fuck-me bullshit. He covers his face with his hand and groans, transported back to another time when he'd gotten rolled for sleeping in his car after a bender at the Spread Eagle. Bright ass flashlight in his face, that awkward drive of shame with fuuuucking Whitehorse giving him that disappointed look in the rear-view, because fuck that guy. And fuck the dumbass deputy that rode in with him!

He opens his mouth to say all of that and all that comes out is:]

Ughhhhh...

[theweakhavepurpose]

[Having dealt with every citizen of Hope County dead-ass drunk at one point or another Pratt is bilingual in alcohol groaning.]

Yeah it's me and not Hudson, I'm not bringing you in.

[He shakes his head and goes to sit next to him, getting a contact buzz off the fumes.]

Jesus man, what have you been doing?

[broshaw]

[Aw, fuuuuck. As if Pratt is any less a dickhole about drunk and disorderly conduct, even when Sharky's got his pants on.]

Drinking, man... [kinda gurgled out there. Like, obviously. Also like, fuuuuck me, man, why did I drink so much and where the fuck did I put my water bottle.] Mainon was dry. Mmmnow 'mnot! 'M good, 'm good...

[He can't manage to move his hand from his face to wave Pratt away but the sentiment is there, somewhere.]

hurikane

[justneedsomehelp]

Hey, buddy.

[Marc might already be a little buzzed on something. He's feeling-- good. Better now that they're back on the ship and he's not half-expecting a wild bear or a masked killer to start mowing through all of them.

Maybe that wasn't an invitation to come sit, but he's plopping his ass down next to Sharky at the bar soon enough. He'll just have something-- not horrific to drink though, thank you very much.]

See you broke that dry spell already...

[Well, so did Marc. No judgement here.]

[broshaw]

[Marc gets an extra couple of fist-pounds on the bartop and a brief "Marc, Marc, Marc!" to welcome his approach, because,] Fuck yeeeeeeeah I did, and I've decided I'm never leaving the boat again!

[Unless there's alcohol next time, then he definitely will.]

[justneedsomehelp]

[Oh, that gets a chuckle, and he even reaches over to give Sharky a friendly clap on the shoulder.]

I gotta say, that's not a bad idea, man. Better than arts and crafts and no booze.

[Although there are reasons he'd go off boat again... namely, the way his other self doesn't have a fucking ounce of self-preservation apparently.]

So, what, we got like a week to make up for, right?

[broshaw]

[There's something special about the bond of two dudes trying to suffer through sobriety together. Something that makes it impossible not to get hammered together later.]

Honestly, the fuck do I look like? Someone who knows how to use a fucking pottery wheel? [He wants to make a pothead joke but it just doesn't come to him in time.] Turns out six days sober makes gettin' drunk way easier, though, so that's cool, I guess! C'mon, if you name a cocktail they just start making it for you, no questions asked.

day drinking~

[millay]

Maeve was wandering herself, letting her mind wander as she does. She's barely paying attention, mind less distracted from the thoughts of camp and the fact that she's slowly letting people know that she's not, as she's pretended, a human. It's been a lot recently. Still, she can't let the Captain be the one to reveal who and what she is. That's going to be her choice or no one's at all.

After a moment, she forces herself to shake off the thoughts and focuses on the space around her. Feet away, she spots Sharky with a water bottle and marshmallows. She smiles a little as she walks over. "Hello, darling. See you're enjoying your stash of marshmallows."

[broshaw]

The sun's out, the sea's over there somewhere, and Sharky just ate sushi he can trust to be less than twenty-four hours old -- shit is going good in the hood for this dude. He's also got a mimosa, because it feels like that kinda afternoon, but it's in a plastic cup instead of a glass one because he's wearing flip-flops and fuuuuck broken glass.

"Hey, Maeve!" He pats his tote at the marshmallow comment, shrugging. "Yeaaah, I was gonna keep 'em for later but I already got another bag back in my room and, uh, it turns out marshmallows don't keep so good. Better to eat them. Or hand them out, I guess." Because he's feeling charitable (and tipsy) and he wants to share the good word of marshmallows with everyone.

[millay]

Maeve laughs softly. At least he seems happy. "Well, I suppose that's fair. Just try not to make yourself sick." Because she can't be sure, but she's almost certain too much sugar can make you sick. Especially if he's drinking a lot. And he definitely doesn't seem to be even mostly sober with his plastic glass of mimosa.

She looks at him for a moment, trying to figure out how he's doing. It seems unwell, but this could just be his usual. She's not certain if she should ask all the same. Maybe in a few minutes. "Does the Captain usually show up to pick people up from outings?"

[confusion]

[lightconductor]

Watson is coming back from a smoke before bed, and the smell of cigars still lingers around him. He's tired, and looking forward to sleep, but... well, some things are more important.

"Are you all right, there?" It's pretty evident that he isn't, but there's some things you just ask politely about first, before going to check a stranger's pulse.

[broshaw]

Watson, no. Go back to your boyfriends and leave this man to die, or throw up, or throw up and die.

Someone's talking to him? That seems to be happening. Sharky sucks in a deep breath through his nose, which manages to quell the immediate nausea. He doesn't quite look at the person addressing him, but there is definitely an attempt.

Sharky manages about half a sentence before he gives up. "Yea, 'm fine, jus'..." Accompanied with the tiniest of hand gestures to indicate that there is totally no problem here, and the cops do not need to be called on him. "...Hhhugh. Sittin'."

[lightconductor]

Well, we're dealing with some level of consciousness, at least. That's encouraging. And ignoring Sharky would probably be a violation of the Hippocratic Oath or something, so he's not going anywhere.

"Sitting," Watson repeats. "Yes, so I see, but you look as though you might need some help."

He makes an attempt to grasp Sharky's wrist to take his pulse.

euphoria

[killed]

[ Hiyori is doing a touch of window shopping himself, looking through this and that as he considers his options. There's only so many things to do in a place such as this, and all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy in more ways than one, as a person who's constantly focused on academics loses sight of even that if they don't direct their mind elsewhere.

Now, with all that having been said, he hadn't expected to run into someone making such a scene. One doesn't have to be a doctor to be familiar with the first signs of alcohol streaming through the blood, but it does help, and so he picks up on the first signs of it. There's always just he faintest change in coordination and voice that give a person away, albeit neither are needed when such a fine fellow is holding a drink in his hand!

Nevertheless, it's hardly his place to police here, and so he approaches with a polite smile. ]

Hm? Why, what a kind offer! I would love one.

[ He has quite the sweet tooth, so he's not one to say no. ]

[broshaw]

[Sharky is riding high on the fact that he hasn't had to suck the gasoline out of a wrecked Dodge Durango in like a month now, combined with the fact that every drink can come with a little umbrella in it if he so chooses. That is like, real class and real standards as far as he's concerned.]

Hell yeah, man, here you go! [He holds out the bag,] They're better roasted but, uhhh, beggars can't be choosers, right??

[killed]

They're wonderful roasted and dipped in chocolate, but I'm rather fond of the chewiness that they have straight out of the bag.

[ He takes a couple with another word of thanks, placing one in his mouth and chewing slowly, eyes flicking to his drink. ]

What have you paired it with today? I should think they'd go well with a Brandy Alexander, or perhaps a mudslide? ♪

[ Sweet drinks to match a sweet treat, though he supposes something with a bit of bite might bring out the flavor more. ]