Lucius Spriggs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
draughtsman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
come_sailaway2022-07-13 02:53 pm
draughtsman) wrote in come_sailaway2022-07-13 02:53 pm
Hot-Tub Truth Machine
Who: Lucius Spriggs And You.
What: Lucius is hanging out hot-tubbing and trying to make drinks for a contest.
When: A Vague Handwave At July.
Where: The Hot-tubs and various bars around the ship.
Warnings: Truth/Lies apply to all the hot-tub prompts and threads, so those can get spicy, and the drink ones will probably have him cursing in frustration.
Nothing Like An Early Morning Dip.
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest.)
Lucius has to say, of all the advancements, of all the magical future technology, of all the amenities and sundries this haunted ship provides? The Hot-tub is rapidly becoming his favorite. This is saying quite a lot considering he's already sold his soul to have some of those laundry machines when he gets back home. But, as much as he loathes work, sinking into a bubbling tub of hot water and getting to enjoy the sounds of the sea and pre-dawn? Oh that's just fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that he's decided to start his daily routine off with an extremely early morning dip whenever possible.
This morning (if you can call it that given just how dark it still is out), he's got a covered fancy coffee drink, some breakfast breads he's liberated from the buffet, and is clad in his finest in hideous Tommy Bahama swim-trunks.
Who Cares If It's Raining, You're Already Wet?
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest.)
It's mid afternoon and Lucius is entirely done with his tasks for the day. He thinks. There's not all that many tasks lately, honestly, and he's starting to wonder if he's being put off because the Captain feels bad about the lack of vacations. He can ponder that later because, right now, he intends to go for a swim in the pool. It is raining out but, honestly, what's the difference?
Lucius, carrying a decorative paper umbrella he acquired from the sundries/gift shop, one that will surely be destroyed by the end of his foray, meanders out into the rain and heads first for the pool. The little umbrella covers his towel well enough and once he's sure it's securely in place, he turns his attention to the pool. He steels himself a moment and then, with the sort of leap that cannot be walked back, dives in.
He is a terrible swimmer but, absent waves, he manages not to drown. This is meant to be good exercise and, boy, with his flailing, he is sure getting some of that in.
Pina Coladas And Getting Lost In The Rain
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest. If you want a normal thread he can be inside for this at the bar of your choosing.)
He is going to fucking lose it.
Lucius lets out a sharp noise of frustrated pique as he sips at the fifth fancy drink in his lineup and promptly spits it back into the tiki glass. It's awful. Dreadful. Abysmal. He's not sure how, but somehow, each attempt is worse than the one preceding it. Ergo, each drink he tries is somehow the worst drink he's ever had. This is ridiculous.
He's been here for over an hour and, honestly, looks ready to snap. He has a bet to win, sure, but he isn't so bothered by the idea of losing his wager. (Yeah, yeah, bruised pride, whatever.) No, now it's the fact that he can't make a good drink that has him carrying on. Somehow the inability to pull it off is so much worse than the idea that he might phone it in and lose.
Why the fuck had he put real effort in in the first place?
"How is it that I have drank every day since I was twelve and I cannot mix a single beverage?" Lucius asks the invisible ghosts behind the bar. Unsurprisingly, they have no comment and the cowards don't even appear to give him a shrug or meander away uncomfortably. Rude.
Before him, he has an array of bottles of liquor that he's ordered, a handful of the mixers he's had in drinks, and the assorted failures. He has all the tools but, somehow, he cannot seem to mix a damn thing that doesn't taste like shoe-polish. He orders another glass of water, if only to wash the taste out of his mouth, and then dumps the remainder of that glass into one of the others before he starts on a new drink. Maybe this one, this one concoction, will be good enough to win. Or at least good enough to drink.
Let Me Show You A Thing - Izzy, Closed
Lucius is drunk as a skunk and it's just crawling into morning. This is alright because, trailing along with him, is Izzy Hands who is equally pished. He doesn't try to take Izzy on the elevator, which is a risky choice because stairs and drunks rarely get along. Still, with a lot of amused mean digs about balance, the two of them finally arrive on the deck with the pool. Lucius throws the doors open with a tah-dah, as though Izzy has not seen this deck already, and then makes a hard turn toward one side where the hot-tub is.
All in all, the hot-tub is not a terribly impressive sight. It is a small pool with a sitting ledge, a single light, and it smells terribly of a chemical that Lucius does not know (bromine). The only appealing feature of it, at the moment, is that the water is very visibly steaming in the early morning light. Behind the hot-tub, along the wall, is a very cute little tiki-bar, rather like the one that flanks the entrance by the pool. This one doesn't seem to have quite as many decorative bottles on the shelves, but Lucius has never had a problem ordering everything from it.
"This--my good first mate--is the single best feature on this ship," Lucius declares with all drunken seriousness. Without prompt, he walks up to the edge of the tub. He holds up his index finger to ask for silence, for dramatic effect, and then reaches below the lip of the tub to crank the little timer dial. In a moment, the jets will start and then the bubbles. He shakes off his hand and stands, looking like the cat who ate the canary.
What: Lucius is hanging out hot-tubbing and trying to make drinks for a contest.
When: A Vague Handwave At July.
Where: The Hot-tubs and various bars around the ship.
Warnings: Truth/Lies apply to all the hot-tub prompts and threads, so those can get spicy, and the drink ones will probably have him cursing in frustration.
Nothing Like An Early Morning Dip.
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest.)
Lucius has to say, of all the advancements, of all the magical future technology, of all the amenities and sundries this haunted ship provides? The Hot-tub is rapidly becoming his favorite. This is saying quite a lot considering he's already sold his soul to have some of those laundry machines when he gets back home. But, as much as he loathes work, sinking into a bubbling tub of hot water and getting to enjoy the sounds of the sea and pre-dawn? Oh that's just fantastic. So fantastic, in fact, that he's decided to start his daily routine off with an extremely early morning dip whenever possible.
This morning (if you can call it that given just how dark it still is out), he's got a covered fancy coffee drink, some breakfast breads he's liberated from the buffet, and is clad in his finest in hideous Tommy Bahama swim-trunks.
Who Cares If It's Raining, You're Already Wet?
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest.)
It's mid afternoon and Lucius is entirely done with his tasks for the day. He thinks. There's not all that many tasks lately, honestly, and he's starting to wonder if he's being put off because the Captain feels bad about the lack of vacations. He can ponder that later because, right now, he intends to go for a swim in the pool. It is raining out but, honestly, what's the difference?
Lucius, carrying a decorative paper umbrella he acquired from the sundries/gift shop, one that will surely be destroyed by the end of his foray, meanders out into the rain and heads first for the pool. The little umbrella covers his towel well enough and once he's sure it's securely in place, he turns his attention to the pool. He steels himself a moment and then, with the sort of leap that cannot be walked back, dives in.
He is a terrible swimmer but, absent waves, he manages not to drown. This is meant to be good exercise and, boy, with his flailing, he is sure getting some of that in.
Pina Coladas And Getting Lost In The Rain
(Mention if you want Truth/Lies in the header, pls or I shall choose what is funniest. If you want a normal thread he can be inside for this at the bar of your choosing.)
He is going to fucking lose it.
Lucius lets out a sharp noise of frustrated pique as he sips at the fifth fancy drink in his lineup and promptly spits it back into the tiki glass. It's awful. Dreadful. Abysmal. He's not sure how, but somehow, each attempt is worse than the one preceding it. Ergo, each drink he tries is somehow the worst drink he's ever had. This is ridiculous.
He's been here for over an hour and, honestly, looks ready to snap. He has a bet to win, sure, but he isn't so bothered by the idea of losing his wager. (Yeah, yeah, bruised pride, whatever.) No, now it's the fact that he can't make a good drink that has him carrying on. Somehow the inability to pull it off is so much worse than the idea that he might phone it in and lose.
Why the fuck had he put real effort in in the first place?
"How is it that I have drank every day since I was twelve and I cannot mix a single beverage?" Lucius asks the invisible ghosts behind the bar. Unsurprisingly, they have no comment and the cowards don't even appear to give him a shrug or meander away uncomfortably. Rude.
Before him, he has an array of bottles of liquor that he's ordered, a handful of the mixers he's had in drinks, and the assorted failures. He has all the tools but, somehow, he cannot seem to mix a damn thing that doesn't taste like shoe-polish. He orders another glass of water, if only to wash the taste out of his mouth, and then dumps the remainder of that glass into one of the others before he starts on a new drink. Maybe this one, this one concoction, will be good enough to win. Or at least good enough to drink.
Let Me Show You A Thing - Izzy, Closed
Lucius is drunk as a skunk and it's just crawling into morning. This is alright because, trailing along with him, is Izzy Hands who is equally pished. He doesn't try to take Izzy on the elevator, which is a risky choice because stairs and drunks rarely get along. Still, with a lot of amused mean digs about balance, the two of them finally arrive on the deck with the pool. Lucius throws the doors open with a tah-dah, as though Izzy has not seen this deck already, and then makes a hard turn toward one side where the hot-tub is.
All in all, the hot-tub is not a terribly impressive sight. It is a small pool with a sitting ledge, a single light, and it smells terribly of a chemical that Lucius does not know (bromine). The only appealing feature of it, at the moment, is that the water is very visibly steaming in the early morning light. Behind the hot-tub, along the wall, is a very cute little tiki-bar, rather like the one that flanks the entrance by the pool. This one doesn't seem to have quite as many decorative bottles on the shelves, but Lucius has never had a problem ordering everything from it.
"This--my good first mate--is the single best feature on this ship," Lucius declares with all drunken seriousness. Without prompt, he walks up to the edge of the tub. He holds up his index finger to ask for silence, for dramatic effect, and then reaches below the lip of the tub to crank the little timer dial. In a moment, the jets will start and then the bubbles. He shakes off his hand and stands, looking like the cat who ate the canary.
Pina Coladas And Getting Lost In The Rain (any option)
He's got his tote, got his water, got his big ass hat -- and there's Lucius, with all of the alcohol? Like, awesome idea, sure, but Sharky's pretty sure they can actually die from alcohol poisoning (having gotten precariously close himself!!!), sooo... maybe not do that?
He's just gonna flip-flop his ass over to the bar and just, sorta... lean. He's clearly looking at the undrunk drinks like he's trying to decide if he should ask for dibs.
"Uhhhh, hey, Lucius... whatcha doin'?"
no subject
"Trying to make a decent drink," Lucius admits with a sigh. He swirls the glass in front of him, takes a sip, and grimaces. He swallows this bit which he regrets as his eyes start to water. With a huff he pushes it away.
"For a bet," he adds. "Don't drink those, by the way."
no subject
He means to give a general vibe of "cool, man," but instead he says, "Uhhh, no offense dude, but after the Sharky, are you sure that was a good idea? I mean, I love it and order it all the time but I literally have shitty taste in alcohol."
Still, he props his chin on his hand and watches Lucius trying to make something out of... oh, man. "Uhhh... so, like, what are the rules? 'Cos, y'know... Drinkin' is sorta my only real coping mechanism, so I'm real good at it."
no subject
Sharky has just admitted to having shit taste in alcohol. Is it cheating to get help from a man who likes the taste of The Sharky? Or would that be a handicap, technically?
"This is all a bit...unfamiliar. Got any tips?"
no subject
"Three things," he says, ticking each off with a finger as he lists them, "Liquor first, mixer second, garnish third. Mary May always forgot the orange wedge, when that's what makes a fuckin' Blue Moon, okay!" Even if that isn't actually a mixed drink. Whatever! The point still stands. "Who'd you bet against, and what's the prize?"
no subject
He turns back to his little concoction and takes Sharky's tips. Hard liquor first. Gin and...tequila? Sure, why not. He clearly isn't used to measuring anything but he tries to be methodical about it.
"Well, winner gets the other as cabin boy for a week."
no subject
Look, he isn't going to say don't mix those, because he knows you could probably throw some tonic water in there and things would be... mostly okay, but... damn, he really wants to tell Lucius not to bother with tequila.
"And it's gotta be a good drink, right? But who's gonna decide? Can't be one of you guys, you'll just lie and say the other's tasted bad no matter what." He's obviously been there, done that...