come_sailaway | Room service [OPEN]

Entry tags:

Room service [OPEN]

CHARACTERS: Dylan & OPEN
DATE: A day or two post-event
LOCATION: Cabins
SITUATION: Dylan finds out about the event, and goes door to door to see if anyone needs anything
WARNINGS: TBA

1. [LOCKED TO JINX]

Dylan is blissfully unaware of what's been going on. Well, blissful might be a stretch for the status quo aboard this ship, but unburdened, at the very least.

He'd gone to the thing, had a poke about, had some food, and then decided it wasn't actually that interesting. For one thing, he doesn't know how to drive. (Although he absolutely had tried to anyway.) He's not a big fan of deserts though. Too much of a East coast kid, maybe. And the vintage thing was cute, but got boring.

So when he goes to visit his buddy Jinx, it's not out of worry or anything. It's just cause he wants to hang out.

"Hey, it's Dylan," he calls after knocking on Jinx's door.

2. [OPEN]

Dylan has met a fair amount of people, but most of them he doesn't have any way of contacting, not knowing their room numbers. And he has no idea who's hurt and who's fine and who's probably deeply traumatised.

But he wants to help.

He's not usually that much of a charity person. Maybe he feels guilty for not being there. Maybe he's bored. Maybe helping others is a good distraction from his own frustration and creeping depression. Probably all of the above.

So he goes door to door, seeing if anyone's hurt and whether they need him to bring them some food or entertainment or whatever. Or company, if they ask for it, but mostly his intention is practical.

He knocks. "Room service!"

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Dylan knocks on the door of Jinx's cabin, and the door is answered, but not by a familiar blue-haired teenager. No, instead the person standing in the doorway is tall--nearly six and a half feet--and built like military propaganda. Broad-shouldered, not an ounce of spare fat, a mild confused frown on its lips.

"What."

...Well, this is unexpected.

Dylan stands there for several seconds, gaping like a goldfish. He feels like the twinkiest twink that ever twinked next to this person, and on top of that his brain just wasn't ready to meet someone new.

"...Hi," he says finally. "I'm Dylan. Is Jinx here?"

"No. Is she in trouble?" It crosses its arms over its chest, clearly protective of Jinx--but also well-fucking-aware who Jinx is.

"Uh. No?" Blink. "I mean, not that I know."

He's also well aware that Jinx is the sort of person who'd get into trouble. But the fact that he's asking means he's... protective? Yeah. He can't think of any other reason he'd ask. Unless she's like her probation officer or something, but that probably doesn't really apply here.

"Are you her roommate?" he asks, since the guy isn't introducing himself.

"Yes. Who the fuck are you?"

The cuss isn't aimed at Dylan in an angry way, but it is emphatic.

"And why are you looking for her?"

"...Dylan," he repeats. He already said that, right? He's not even sure now.

"I just... wanted to ask her if she wanted something from the buffet." A beat. "Do you want something from the buffet?"

Hey, that's what he's been doing. Offering getting stuff for people. But also this dude seems perfectly capable of getting his own food. He could probably hunt and slaughter it himself, honestly.

Blink. Blink-blink.

"Yes. If you're offering. A plate of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a bowl of mac and cheese."

Like a grown-ass bot.

"Oh-- okay."

He's been completely taken off-guard, so he doesn't even consider doing anything else, or questioning the guy, or. Anything. He just sort of. Awkwardly turns and walks off in the direction of the buffet.

When he returns, there's a shoe propping the door open. Which is an invitation to just come in. The ~~person~~ roommate of Jinx is sitting on the bed, watching some show on a media player that's smaller than the room TVs--some sort of serial drama, perhaps.

It's not sure if it actually expects Dylan to come back or not, but no harm if he does.

Edited 2022-08-25 00:36 (UTC)

It takes him a moment to even remember what to bring, though the request was unexpected enough that it somehow stuck, despite not quite processing stuff at the moment.

He doesn't know how much to bring. The guy's big, right? He probably eats a lot. Dylan's gonna bring a whole bunch. He brings some soda as well, just a coke for each of them, even though he has no idea what the roommate would prefer.

He pauses awkwardly for a moment outside the door, then nudges it open with his foot and then his elbow, since his hands are full.

"Room service," he announces, now in an effort to be a bit more confident and chill.

"Come on in." It glances over its shoulder, offering the ghost of a smile. "And, uh. Thank you. I'm not used to...any kind of service at all, honestly."

Oh good, he seems more friendly now! Dylan relaxes a little bit, feeling less like he's on trial or something. That makes the 'confident and chill' persona a bit easier to keep up.

"Sure, no problem," he answers, going to set the stuff next to him. He keeps the one coke in his hands, standing there only a little bit awkwardly. "I don't usually do it, I just figured people might need a little extra looking after right now."

"Yeah. You should check in on those who died, especially. I think Caitlyn Kiramman did, cabin 141."

It glances up at Dylan.

"Have you yourself eaten yet?"

Dylan takes a moment to mentally note that name and cabin number. He'll drop by. Though if someone recently died, he can't blame them if they don't feel like answering the door.

The question surprises him a little. "Oh, uh, not in a little while," he answers. He's not like starving or anything, but. He'd sort of planned to eat with Jinx.

"Do you want some nuggets?" It holds up a stegosaur-shaped one with a bit of a smile on its lips.

See, Dylan seems like he might be alright. Weird, in over his head with Jinx probably. But alright.

(jinx seems to doing better now. her legs are still slightly sore but she's been able to move around on her own without needing to lean on something or needing assistance. she stopped by the cabin to freshen up since camping up in the rafters lack those things. jinx wasn't necessarily in the mood to braid her hair so she tied it up in a pony tail which unforuntely, no matter how high she made it - it's still drag a little on the ground.

the knock was something she hadn't expected too much. jinx forced ekko to tend to himself, rest up, have his alone time instead motherhening and helicoptering her. she loves him but she is still trying to get use to the... well, whatever they are and doing.)

(at the sound of dylan's voice, her heart jump and her body straightens up. come to think of it, was he there during the excursion? she... can't seem to recall due to how packed the diner was during the voting. and then after that, things were just so frenzied jinx really can't remember if he was actually there or not. but did it matter? because knowing he is still here is enough to have a huge weight lift off her shoulders.)

(chrissy had seem to disappear and that... was very disheartening. she isn't sure if she had been killed permanently during the excursion or the captain (???) sent her back to her realm. but upon hearing his voice is enough for her to move quickly yet carefully to the door -- swinging it open to peer up at him with wide doe-eyed.)

Dylan...! You're — You're here!

(and wasting no time, jinx throws arms around him; embracing him in a hug and burying her face in his mid-chest/stomach.)

Edited 2022-08-25 01:05 (UTC)

Dylan gives Jinx his usual ~~cheesy~~ friendly grin as she opens the door. He's kind of expecting something similar in return, not the eyes-like-saucers he actually gets.

Not that he has any time to actually analyse it before he's suddenly grabbed, giving a slight huff of surprise. Confused and surprised, but not at all minding, he wraps his arms around her in return.

"Yeah, I mean, where else am I supposed to be?" he asks, smiling with amusement. This is a pretty nice way to be greeted, actually.

(she lifts her up to look up but not daring to pull away from this hug. not yet anyway.)

I dunno, still dead? That whole excursion thing happened and there were a lotta dead things called "zombies" and people died and...—

(jinx exhales her breath to slow down and recollect her thoughts.)

I'm just... glad you're here and you're okay.

UHHHH.

Dylan looks completely confused. And a bit worried now. The hug had been a bit strange, but if she'd just been perky as usual afterwards, he probably would've shrugged it off. (Although probably kept a slightly closer eye on her, given recent stuff she's been going through.)

But this was definitely not what he expected.

"Wait, for real?"

Yeah. It... actually, come inside.

(not that it's a secret this situation happened or anything. a lot of people were involved during the excursion but it'll just be a little weird talking at the door way if their neighbors are trying to sleep or not want to hear chatter.

pulling away from the hug now, she guides inside to sit on the couch.)

There was this new place that came up. With the desert and diner and all that? Did you stopped by there at all?

Okay, well, the event wasn't boring then, but he's pretty glad he missed the excitement! He's had enough fighting for his life, chased by supernatural creatures.

He expects her to move quicker than she does, since she's usually quite speedy and bouncy, so when she turns and walks all careful, he almost trips over her hair. Is she okay? She doesn't look hurt, but she's kinda moving like she is.

Also, jeez, her hair is long. Don't mind him, he's just going to gently grab that ponytail halfway down and carry it as if he's carrying the ends of a bridal veil or something.

"Yeah, I popped by," he answers. "It wasn't that interesting. Well, when I was there."

(she appreciates the hair help, really. jinx will never cut it because it's way too beautiful but damn it's a pain in the ass a lot of times. carefully, she takes a seat on the couch -- scooting over so he can sit by her.)

Yeah, I thought the same thing. Then the clouds got all weird and the cars disappeared. The Cap showed up and wanted a race with his car. Said if he won it, we would all die. But if he lost, we get to live. — But the race was to drive off the cliff and Skelly decided to take the heat of it.

Even then, I thought it wasn't that big of a deal?

(she slouches a little on the couch; trying to get more comfortable.)

Some of us followed after to see who won and they both died. But then... the Cap burst into flames? Turned into some kind of... "thing". I dunno what it was. A kid or somethin'? Anyway, he told us to run 'cuz he wanted to play a game of tag and when we got back... there were those zombie things everywhere.

Edited 2022-08-25 02:25 (UTC)

Dylan gently arranges her hair on the back of the couch so she doesn't sit on it. Then he sits next to her, slightly sideways and resting his arm on the back of the couch, so he can face her. He rests his knees slightly against her legs, just that casual but comforting physical closeness.

He listens quietly, suppressing the urge to interrupt with exclamations or questions.

"...That's fucked up," he says finally, once she's finished. "Are you okay?"

Yeah but no?? I'm pretty pissed. But more on myself than anythin'. (she combs her fingers through her bangs.) — I had all of my weapons with me. And yet I couldn't... save anyone. I should had tried harder or shouldn't had been so stupid and not train for this.

"...Train? For zombies?" he asks, incredulous. "You can't expect yourself to save people from..."

He falters a little. "...I dunno, from weird shit like that."

Whoops, got a little too real suddenly. He hasn't told her details, but he has admitted that his friends were killed, with the implication it was from werewolves, so. She can probably guess what that pause was about.

But I'm a fighter, Dylan! I've been a weapon for years and I should had been on top of this.

(she pulls her legs up on the couch carefully as she links her arms around them; holding them close.)

It's this place. It's gotten me... weak. Gettin' to know people and livin' so comfortably sorta. Feelin'... normal when I know that I'm not. 'Cuz that's just a recipe for disaster waitin' to happen to go on every day pretending to be what I'm not.

(a beat.)

I just need to stop gettin' distracted and focus only on trainin' and nothing else. And maybe then I won't be so... useless.

Joan is lying in bed, attempting to nap and failing miserably. The adrenaline of trauma medicine is still coursing through her veins, and her mind is cluttered with the things she saw, second guessing things she did.

There's a knock on the door, and she reluctantly sits up. The voice calling from the other side makes her frown in confusion, and she gets up and opens the door.

"Since when does this place have room service?" she asks the kid on the other side.

"Since now," Dylan answers with a cheerful smile. "And, let's be honest, probably only until like a few days from now or something."

He doesn't intend to make a job out of this. There's better things for him to do with his time. Or at least more interesting things. (He's not usually a room service kind of person.)

"I was just wondering if you needed something from the buffet or one of the stores. I could bring it to you, if you need."

She smiles at the kid. "That's very sweet of you. What's your name?"

She doesn't want to turn him down right away, seeing how earnest he is.

She almost doesn't answer the door. It's a voice Clarke doesn't recognize, offering a service that before now hadn't existed on the ship, and also requires her actually getting up from this wonderfully prone position of lying on the floor. It's the only way her neck feels better after driving her car directly into Gil's Diner to get herself and included passengers as close to the portal as humanly possible, and even as controlled a crash as it'd been — seatbelt across her chest and everything — the whole ordeal had been rough.

But curiosity (aka the driving need to investigate each and every going on within the Serena Eterna she catches wind of) prevails. Clarke's picking herself up with a strained groan, and answering the door in some amalgamation of Tommy Bahama athleisure that could pass as pajamas. Half expects a shade-suspended tray of food with no answer for the disembodied voice, doesn't expect a stranger.

Uh...

"Didn't order anything." A brief glance down towards Dylan's hands — is he even carrying anything? "You probably have the wrong room."

Dylan is carrying nothing, but he does have a friendly smile (though maybe slightly more perky than necessary) as she opens the door.

"Well, it's more like an offer of room service," he explains. "Since everyone went through a lot recently. Would you like me to bring you something from the buffet, or one of the stores?"

It's the perky sunshine-style grin and seemingly selfless offer (and not at all the pain of moving about and pretending she's fine) that has Clarke's own mouth pressing into a thin line. Brow furrowed right alongside it, gaze suspicious.

Why?

"You're just... out here being nice and running errands for people?"

"Uhm. Yeah, pretty much!"

He bounces on the balls of his feet, holding his hands behind his back. Just bright and cheerful boy scout pleasantness. (He was definitely never a boy scout.)

"That's..."

Weird. Kind. Suspicious. Admirable. Useful. ...not something she knows entirely what to make of in this moment, after speed-running on easy mode through so many trust issues. It's the sort of thing one'd expect from a friend, sure (and reminds her of one) but not someone just randomly showing up outside your door.

But, looking the gift horse deep in the mouth doesn't equate to taking the saddle off and putting it out to pasture.

"...okay. Then yeah, sure. I could use more Tylenol, and maybe an ice pack."

In her defense, Dylan has selfish motives in that he's mostly doing it to make himself feel better. There's just... no ulterior motives beyond that, so there's no reason to distrust him. Just don't expect him to make a habit out of it.

"Sure. No snacks while I'm at it?" he inquires. She is holding herself kind of stiffly, so maybe she wouldn't want to head out for that stuff.

Let her know if it works, yeah? Selfish selflessness seems like an oxymoron but everything seems to fly on the ship these days, so if it offers even the slightest strain of self comfort, don't keep those tricks to yourself Dylan.

Snacks, though? Clarke's an end of the world apocalypse sort of gal; lived off hydroponic-grown protein supplements in space, and undercooked panther meat on Earth. Had refused to eat anything other than prepackaged peanuts for the first month on board the ship and still looks at the free-floating meal trays in the cafeterias with a side eye to this day. Food hadn't even crossed her mind, honestly sounds awful but... no sense in starving.

"Beef jerky and a chocolate bar."

The door opens and Dylan is met with a suspicious glare.

"Room service? Since when?"

[ She very nearly doesn't open the door, beyond wary at the sudden claim of something she definitely didn't order at her door after all the insanity.

Nonetheless, Alex cracks the door open, only part of her face visible. ]

I'm pretty sure we don't have room service on here.

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Room service [OPEN]

2 - Jinx's room

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spongebob narrator: the next day....

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2 Room 113

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