come_sailaway | He Gods to Swear

Who: Cede Sonnet (Baptin) and ...all three of you... [OTA]
What: gin, rum, tequila, pina colada (one for each hand), vodka, whiskey....
When: June 30 year of our lord ...somethin' with a lotta 2s
Where: I dunno just...everyhere
Warnings: this man

I. At Hurikane

[Give him two pina coladas... or three. Or four. Because the ghosts won't and he's trying to pull the drink from the invisible hands]

I'm fine. I can handle it. I can handle anything! Don't tell me I can't liquor my handle!

II. At John's

[who is holding a bottle of tequila, sitting on the piano and intermittently throwing books at the screen? It's him. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?]

III. Chatterbox

[it is karaoke time and he is just in time for having a good time, reading the lyrics badly]

Tell me why ain't nothin' but a heartache
tell me why ain't nothing but a missed skate
tell me why I never wanna hear you say
I want it that day!

Come on! Sing with me!

IV. Scoops
I'll have one of everything please. [and then seeing someone come up, clings to the window] It's all mine. Go away. Shoo.

V. Elsewhere
[Stede is clinging to the railing, making his way along or otherwise rambling back and forth across the deck]

Wow! Choppy seas? Am I right? Of course I'm right. Must be a storm. [he chugs a bottle of rum]

If we die... I hope the captain is fucked. Fucked. Absolutely a hundered percent ten eggs deep.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's because riddles rely on subverting logic, and that's not something I'm apt to do.

Also, I don't believe the reasoning for why we are all here and cannot leave is due to riddles nor that it will be solved by one.

Yes but, it's a jar. That's why a door...when a door is not a door. Get it? It's not going to solve anything but the door. Is a jar. A jar.

[a beat]

It's funny.

[If Max had facial expressions Stede would be getting the most unamused look right now.]

If you say so.

[He does actually get the joke, he's just not going to admit that.]

How long have you been holding onto that waiting for the opportunity to say it?

No look. It's a pun. It's punny. Because when a door is cracked open, it's ajar, one word. I mean it's still a jar but it's two things. At once.

I mean as a pun it's kind of adoorable right?

[right? he looks pleased with that one too..

and then at the question he tries to think]

About...ten minutes...?

Yes, I understand how the pun works. It was very nice. I'm sure it will impress everyone you tell it to.

[The world's most epic eyeroll goes here. He does not get why humans do this to themselves. Being drunk makes them stupid and makes him irritated.]

You think so?

[he has plenty more if he can remember them]

Wow, you know at first I thought you were a jackass, but you're actually a jackass with good taste. I salute you! [and he does so with the bottle before downing the contents and staggering a little, braced agains the railing]

The highest of compliments.

[His tone is so dry it could be used as a whetstone.]

Just how much have you had to drink at this point?

Not near enough. I'm still standing.... [he'll need a lot more] Can...can you drink with your face? Do you want to come have another with me?

Is the point to end up in an undignified pile? Perhaps you should spare your clothing the mistreatment and lie down intentionally instead of collapsing?

Not alcohol I cannot. But there's other things I can drink.

Clothes on the floor is floose on the coor and Lucius can take good care of it. [he usually does]

Well we can find something you can drink too. I'm sure there's something...somewhere...

The whiskey bar has managed to recreate the specific oil I like from my world.

[A thing suddenly clicks for him that he should have realized previously.]

Ah, Lucius. You make him do your laundry and clean up after you do you?

Shall we? [he pushes himself from the railing and staggers in the direction he believes the whiskey bar to be- even if he doesn't get far before he has to grip a deck chair from falling]

Yes. Well. I do employ him and when-- when I have the means he will be recomp-- repomcen... Paid. That's what he does. He also sketches very well-- documents all my mad journeys.

You're well on your way to that desired drunk in a heap.

[Max isn't going to help him, at least not yet. Eventually he'll get annoyed enough at Stede bumping into everything and weaving around that he may actually guide him towards the whiskey bar.]

For posterity I assume? Are you planning to serialize your everyday life into novels?

I haven't begun to fight. I mean think.

Drink. Whatever. [he takes a sip from his empty bottle- then nods enthusiastically]

Yes - well I hadn't thought of novels - because it's all true. All of it. Me, good for nothing Stede, an actual pirate on an actual adventure in the actual sea. Sailing with Blackbeard of all people...and it's all because I went for it-- left everything I knew and charged ahead, pistols blazing.

That's what life is all about, isn't it?

Is that what life is all about? [Strangely, drunken Stede does make some amount of sense.] I suppose it is, what more should there be than doing what you wish and then reaping the rewards.

That is what you desired? Becoming a pirate with Blackbeard? And he's here too as well, so the adventure just continues. You truly are achieving your dreams. [Hm. Are they all side characters in the story of Stede?] I do vaguely prefer you to him, he tried to shoot me and you merely use your words. I'm on more even ground there.

[He's better at battles of wits. Doesn't even have a gun right now. A travesty really.]

Oh well he's lovely like that. No... No I just...wanted to be a pirate. Ed is just...icing on the cream. He's so... so very him, you know and yes he is absolutely horrible but gosh, what a smile... what a laugh! Id' sail with him to the ends of the earth if I could and never get tired of it.

[he hiccups and burps just a little]

Oh excuse me.

And I could... I mean I could aim for you and maybe hit you. Or I could try to stab you if...if the two of you remained still.

Yes. Extremely him.

[Wow Stede, even the mechanical guy can see through that subtext.]

That's good because as it turns out, that's apparently what we're doing. Well, maybe not sailing to the ends of the earth because I'm not sure we're going anywhere, but certainly sailing to our doom. Which is similar.

How many of me do you currently see?

Well we're all sailing toward our doom one way or the other. Death is at the end of every line. But we only have...one life so... might as well enjoy what we can when we can...

[another sip from the empty bottle and he stares at it weaving in place before looking up at the man]

Erm...seven?

[and then he hiccoughs and folds like wet laundry on the deck. Don't worry... he's...fine.]

A lucky and auspicious number.

[ He sounds pleased, though that fades when Stede collapses into a not very graceful puddle.

Max sighs, wrenching the empty bottle from his hand to toss it overboard.

Aaaaand that's the extent of the help he'swilling to offer. Enjoy the night on the deck, romantically under the stars, because Max simply leaves him there. Have a good time buddy.]

He Gods to Swear

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