come_sailaway | APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

APRIL OPEN LOG: PIRATE JENNY

[early risers with odd-numbered rooms might notice that the morning sun doesn't quite come through the curtains as much as it usually does; they can peer out the portholes to see their views blocked by black-painted wood. everyone else won't realize something's off until the morning announcements. there's the chime, and Friday speaks, but...]

Passengers, I'd like for you all to join me in the atrium at your earliest possible convenience! We have a… situation!

[there is no bind on their legs; going is their choice. but, who wouldn't? something interesting is happening, at least. for once.

when they arrive, they will find Friday, and find that she is not alone. a woman - tall, dark, with a flowing coat and a lit cigar hanging from the side of her mouth like an old movie gangster - is standing on the raised area by the stairs; they are having a conversation that's too quiet to hear, and the woman's face is nearly as inscrutable. when enough have gathered, Friday steps forward, her empty hands clasped together in front of her, as the woman puts out the cigar on the heel of her boot and tosses it thoughtlessly to the ground.]

Good morning, everyone! I.. I'd like, I'd like to, well, I'd -

[the woman places a firm hand on Friday's shoulder - spins her, grabs her, dips her low to the ground, and kisses her soundly. at the first touch, Friday freezes; but, at the dip, she squeaks, and throws her arms up to hold herself up. the woman returns her to a normal position, and grins widely.]

Let me handle this, Dajutia. Hm? [Friday nods, and the woman turns to face the passengers.] Tau, everyone! My name is Jenny Storm, but all my friends call me Pirate Jenny! And I'd like to think we're all friends, sí? You could call me an... alumnus of the Serena Eterna; I spent a good five years being a thorn in the side of our good Captain! So, when I heard that he was getting up to his old tricks again, I decided to come around and see the fresh meat! And maybe have a bit of a vacation myself!

[she looks at each of them in turn. her grin widens, showing sharp canines.]

Now, I am sure you are thinking, "Señora Storm? You are a pirate! Are you here to rob us of our valuables?" [she barks out a laugh, then shakes her head.] No, no. First off, we're friends; it's Pirate Jenny! And Pirate Jenny is not interested in such things. In fact, I have valuables for you!

[she makes a quick movement: she sticks her pointer finger in her mouth, and then immediately uses that same finger to make some sort of sketch on her palm. seconds later, that same palm closes around a single white rose, which she extends to Friday. she pauses... then takes it, careful, holding it gentle as a bird.]

I may not be the Captain, but I happen to have a little bit of magic of my own! And, for a very, very low price, I can grant you a few small wishes! Trifles from home, maybe - do you like rocket launchers? I am getting very good at rocket launchers!

Jenny...

Okay, okay, no rocket launchers... Machine guns are as big as I'll go, promise!

[Friday just audibly sighs and shakes her head, but there's a clear sort of fondness in it, and Jenny laughs again.]

So, be sure to chat me up, sí? After breakfast! I may not miss much about this damned ship, but I do miss those little omelets!

[she salutes the audience, and then immediately leaves, taking the stairs down three at a time and needlessly pushing her way through the small crowd on her way to the elevators. Friday merely watches her go; her fingers have worried the rose to shreds that fall at her feet.

the rest of the month, until the 13th, is very much the same, with one exception: Jenny's ship remains at the Serena Eterna's side, a sailing ship somehow keeping pace with a modern engine craft. and Jenny doesn't seem to be keeping an especially close eye on it.]

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It comes without thought, breathed out through a tightening throat. "People don't take care of me. Not anymore."

"You hear that, Watson? We're not people." It's so light and playful, as he hands César a handkerchief and moves to sit on the bed behind him. Chest to back, lips brushing the back of his neck. Literally and figuratively offering himself to be César's support. He's close enough to feel every breath, to feel every word.

And he hums, quietly. Mostly tunelessly, letting César feel the vibrations. It's as close as he can get to purring comfortingly like an oversized cat.

"Goodness, and here I thought I was."

For a moment he just takes this scene in, smiling. It feels an eternity since he was involved in anything so... well, quietly domestic, if it wasn't for the massive amounts of blood. He's sort of missed this, which is terrible because this is not a good situation.

"Perhaps I shouldn't try so hard."

The outburst brings with it a round of embarrassment. He sounds childish. But Johnny doesn't respond with condemnation but a lightness that feels so oddly comfortable.

His swimming vision makes the colors of the handkerchief bleed together as he looks down. Johnny settles in behind him as Watson replies with the same lightness. He blinks as Johnny leans up against him, gentle lips on his neck, hands softly resting against his outside thighs. There's gentle, loving humming vibrating against his skin.

It brings a measure of calm, enough that César's vision clears for a moment as he blinks tears down his face. He sees the way Watson is looking at them tenderly. An auxiliary thought occurs to him, one that also has nothing to do with the grief at hand.

"Oh. You know about—...this?" The second he asks, he realizes how truly obvious they had been.

Did he just get distracted from his own grief for a moment? Yes. Oops.

"You and I haven't been particularly subtle, at least not within this room. And I haven't tried to hide anything from Watson, either."

He chuckles, remaining close.

"He knew about me being transgender before you did, even if neither of us had the words at the time."

Watson laughs, all in a rush, with his face colouring a bit. "Grant me some talent for observation," he says. "I'm hardly -- well, one of those things was entirely new to me, and the other would have been extremely illegal in my time and a matter for some extreme subtlety, but you two have been rather obvious, you realise? But it's very sweet."

César even manages a laugh for a moment. His emotions are everywhere. But that's okay, being between these two.

"I suppose not," César acquiesces. "But I promise you we were subtle compared to my parents—ah."

His expression falls away to melancholy again, and he looks down at his hands. With Watson finished, César can compare the two of them, flexing them slowly with only a small twinge of pain in the right. Bandaged and bloody versus not. He hadn't gotten rid of all the blood under his fingernails. Too distracted.

César leans back into Johnny a bit, eyes growing unfocused; his rising crescendo of emotion had been interrupted, reset to quieter note, almost like he had forgotten. "Rex—" Who has amnesia, they both know. "—and his new family... They're good people. Yet I had to bury my grief. They didn't see me as a person who could grieve. Because to them, I'm a little off, kooky, crazy, and strange... a mad genius whose only contributions were his equations, algorithms, and contraptions."

He reaches over to take the up his watch again, pushing down the crown to click it open. A picture of his family. He's between his parents, just like his much younger brother. César watches the second hand turn.

"Or memories of our parents, for Rex. So I-I don't understand, how do you already care? They couldn't."

Johnny's arms slowly move, snaking up around César's torso in a gentle hold.

"You're not the first mad genius I've met. I know that you brilliant sorts have layers to you that the world doesn't always see or understand. But perhaps more than that, we're not comparing you to him. For us, you've always just been our César, not 'Rex's brother'."

"What a wonderful way to put it," Watson says. He sits down beside them. "Mad geniuses are not difficult to love, in my experience, for anyone who has the patience to look past the surface." Frustrating, impossible, ridiculous? Certainly. But nothing but admirable when the soul under that is a good one. "I cannot speak for your brother, or what he might be struggling with, but I know a good man when I see one."

"Your César—I like the sound of that." He gives in to the two of them, letting them comfort him properly at last; he presses the crown of the watch down and closes it, setting it aside. "You're both good men."

César leans a bit, just enough to rest his upper arm against Watson's. He tucks his cheek against his own shoulder and closes his eyes. With that and the arms encircling his torso, he could let his emotional exhaustion take him. Except not so much, with his bloody shirt resting over his bloody pants still.

"As for what Rex struggles with—he's sixteen. So, puberty. But he's safe and in the care of people who also love him, so that's all that matters in the end. It'll just have to be enough. I need to let him go...."

"Not entirely, but stop using him as the marker by which you measure your self-worth." With Watson close, he can keep his voice low and sort, gently squeezing the man in his arms. "You're a complete person in your own right."

"What sixteen-year-old is truly wise?" Watson points out. "I can't say if he might come around, but for now... well, you can't put your entire happiness into the hands of one person, a child who isn't even here."

He reaches for César's hand and squeezes it. "You should probably get out of those clothes," he observes.

"I know, I know...." César doesn't specify to what, but probably everything about Rex, squeezing Watson's hand back and placing his bandaged one on one of Johnny's as he gives him a squeeze.

Then he drops the subject of Rex entirely, because their statements are entirely too close to the mark.

"I should get out of these clothes and maybe take a quick shower. I can use a plastic bag and rubber band to keep the bandage clean." He smiles weakly, not opening his eyes. "But this is also nice."

"You can have more of this after you're clean, I promise. All night long, even. Feel free to use the towel hanging above the toilet, I washed it when I did laundry last night."

He gently nudges at César, arms unraveling from around him.

Watson gives César a warm squeeze on the shoulder. "Yes, go on. Don't hesitate to give us a shout if you feel unwell, but get yourself cleaned up. You'll feel much better afterwards, I suspect."

All night long. That does sound rather nice. Just as nice as getting clean.

"I suspect you're right." César replies to Watson, lowly standing with his shirt hanging over his arm again.

He turns and leans over to kiss Johnny very tenderly on the cheek. "Certainly need to be clean if I'm to spend all night in your bed." He lingers there, to give Johnny a chance to take a moment of his own.

Johnny relaxes into the kiss, blushing warmly, his smile soft and almost goofy. He feels floaty and warm and all sorts of nice, like this.

"Go, go. I'll lay out something for you to change into when you get back."

Watson smiles indulgently, turning back to his bag to pack it up again. He's rather glad that it showed up, unexpected and unexplained as it is. "I would almost feel like I'm intruding," he says mildly.

"Thank you." Then, Watson interjects, and César's laughter puffs against Johnny's cheek before César straightens up.

"If you think that's bad," he turns and starts walking towards the bathroom, carrying his shirt and the wash cloth; he stops at the door and leans back, grinning conspiratorially to Johnny. "Wait until I can safely confirm my nanites won't infect him."

He's mildly surprised that he can deliver that threat so cheerfully, but it most certainly feels good.

"We're not going to do anything too untoward around Watson. That'd be poor roommate etiquette." He laughs, though, leaning in to nudge his dear roommate lightly. "I tell you, I didn't expect this from the start of the cruise. Even in the midst of fear and panic, we can still have joy."

"However will I stand the scandal," Watson says flatly, with a roll of his eyes, then chuckles despite himself. More seriously, he adds, "It is my experience that people tend to find one another in even the darkest circumstances. Human nature, I suppose."

César takes the moment to just smile at then both. Just simply smile at them both, bright, fond, in a way that hasn't happened much in the last six months before he arrived here. It feels like he could almost cry, his heart nearly bursting with contentment. He feels his smile says it all. In this place, if even for just a moment... they have joy and happiness.

Then he straightens up from leaning to the side and walks into the bathroom fully to shut the door.

Edited (Auto-correct betrayed me) 2022-04-09 19:57 (UTC)

"You don't understand why I want you here tonight, do you?" Johnny's voice is quiet, trying not to be heard through the bathroom door.

"Not really," Watson says, his voice equally low. "I could venture a guess, but it's not the sort of thing I'd want to be wrong about."

He tilts his head, expectant.

"I don't want him to fall into something too romantic tonight as a sort of emotional rebound after what he's done. I don't want whatever comes next between him and me to feel like a result of him murdering Jenny. Tonight is for comfort and reassurance, and absolutely not for coupling up." He gestures, bringing both his hands together to show the idea of 'coupling'.

"And besides, he definitely finds you a comforting figure. He didn't just come to this room because I'm here."

Interjection w/ permission and now heeeere's Johnny!

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