come_sailaway | I'm on a train

Entry tags:

I'm on a train

Who: Marc Spector & You
What: September catchall
When: Throughout September
Where: Various locations
Warnings: Nothing in particular besides one prompt with co-dependent alters.

prompt I (lounge)

Marc has zero artistic talent to speak of. He's not an arts of crafts kind of guy any more than he's the type to sit with his nose in a book (though he's become increasingly that type with limited television around these parts). But he still has some tucked away supplies from that dumb summer camp experience and it gives him something to do with his hands to sit and scribble. It's nothing in particular, no discernable items. Just pencils on paper, maybe a stupid one-finned fish like he gave his brother shit about drawing once upon a time.

... So karma dictates someone should probably give him shit for drawing knockoff Nemo.

prompt II (pool bar)

Better than stewing over whiskey, right? You can't get that drunk on fruity, frozen drinks... that easily. Maybe. Either way, at least he's out in the sunshine and not locked away in his cabin, even if the dark circles under his eyes speak of a lack of sleep. That's not unusual for Marc and overall, he doesn't seem to be in that horrible of a mood as he eyes his next drink.

"You know, for something called Lava Flow, I'm not sure I was expecting something so sweet."

prompt III (sand dollars)

Is living on caffeine better than main lining booze? Marginally, hopefully. Anyway, it's less likely to upset anyone if Marc sits quietly in a corner booth, nursing cups of coffee than it is if he goes and drinks or pills himself into oblivion. Sometimes he looks entirely zoned out, other times, he might make a bit of an awkward nod of his head in greeting.

He won't say no if somebody wants to slide in across from him.

prompt iv (for Steven;)

He's got no idea what the time is, actually. He's been staring at the ceiling so long, his eyes feel dry and scratchy and even the times he's closed his eyes to try to fall asleep-- it hasn't happened. He jerks awake the very minute he feels even the start of a dream coming on. He somehow feels both restless like he needs to move and like his limbs weigh a ton. His brain doesn't quite turn off either.

Either he gets up now or he spends a long, frustrating night driving himself crazier. If he was any kind of good guy, he'd slip out and leave Steven alone. But he's not. He doesn't want to be alone right now, so that's what has him rustling the covers a little as he squirms to his side, watching Steven's back before quietly--

"Hey, you awake?"

prompt v (wildcard;)

[Want to do something not listed here? Hit me up or leave a prompt!]

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"Uhhh, Marines ain't hoo-rah'ing over bubble baths and itty-bitty desserts." Unless they are, in which case, Sharky's going to have to change his entire perception of the military. For now he's just satisfied to not be the only one on a diabetes-inflicting diet.

"Nah, I was up in the bar when that happened. Pratt had, uhh, a shitty time so I went back with him, and then I kinda... didn't want burgers anymore."

Probably should, like, say something to express sympathy for the zombie apocalypse, but how do you do that when you sorta wish you'd been there???

"Sounds like it was pretty fuckin' nuts, man. Steven there too?" Boy that probably went over baaaaaaaaadly.

"Alright, guess I'm more the hot tub and sauna type of guy than bubbles. Uh, but you know... as a kid, I used to love sufganiyah. Basically these little jelly doughnuts... big around Hanukkah and all that." And all sorts of other fried foods, of course. He doesn't actually celebrate or practice that much, but you know. He does kinda miss certain aspects when he thinks back. But still. He likes some desserts, alright.

"Yeah, uh. We ran into him." Does he tell Sharky about the guy driving a car off a cliff? He isn't sure whether he'd find it cool or if he'd get Pratt in trouble for being reckless. "Gave him a lift back when he wound up at the makeout point without a ride."

There. Basic. Anything could have happened, not just reckless action movie stunts.

"Yeah... he made it out without too much damage." Otherwise, Marc probably wouldn't be in even this good of shape.

"Some cuts here and there. He mostly doesn't remember it."

Sharky grins, like, Yeeaaahhh you are. But he doesn't say so! Look at how restrained he is in not immediately turning this into trying for round two. ...Right now, anyway.

"Man, that dumbass was gettin' himself into all sorts of shit out there. Kinda glad it wasn't a real desert, otherwise he'd probably still be wanderin' around out there." Like a dumbass.

"Uhh, and that's probably good. What about you? You, uhhh, you good?" No lasting physical or psychological damage??

Hey, look. It's only a matter of time until Marc either says something dumb or tries to steer shit towards flirting. Better than a real conversation, right? More fun, at least.

But right now, he's huffing out a laugh at the image. Yeah, he could believe Pratt could still be out there wandering around. "Is he always the kinda guy who likes getting into trouble?"

Marc can't point fingers though, not really. He's always finding new ways to slip into trouble.

"Uh. Yeah-- yeah. I mean, I made it out pretty unscathed." He pauses, brows furrowing. "Think I saw some people from back home in the dead. It was weird, y'know?" But he's doing what he always does to cope with that.

Drinking and denial, really. "Hoping we get a little bit of a break coming up too."

Sharky rolls his eyes. "The dude became a cop to get laid and avoid consequences for his bullshit. Whenever he got into trouble, Whitehorse would kinda just scold him. I got to see it happen once when I was in the drunk tank and TBH, it was pretty brutal."

Same old, same old when it comes to zombies. "Yeah, probably pretty fucked up. Bet that's like, some jedi mind trick the guy in charge pulled. Weird magic shit. Man, I'm so fuckin' sick of magic, BTW."

Wait.

"Hey, you aren't, like, a wizard or magician or like, weird fairy creature right? I don't gotta worry about makin' deals or promises and shit? You can't put the whammy on me, right?"

Just checking.

"Wait, wait, seriously?" He became a cop to get laid... that's so much less noble than most cops insist. He can't stop an amused huff. "Yeah, well, looks like he's good at getting himself into trouble, so probably good he had a kinda buffer."

Maybe.

He shakes his head at the question and holds up his hands. "Nah. I don't get that magic crap really. Never been my thing."

"...Uhhh, probably don't like, tell him I told you that??" He isn't sure if that's actually something Pratt's trying to downplay or not... "But yeah, he's always been That Guy. Just glad there are people around, y'know, keepin' a look out." Making sure he doesn't get stranded in some fuckin' desert.

"And I figured you probably weren't, but I guess that's somethin' we gotta actually think about here!" Which is WILD.

"Don't worry, buddy, your secret's safe with me." He wouldn't actually want to make Pratt uncomfortable after all. Not really his business anyway. "And if I see him wandering in any more deserts, I'll make sure he finds his way back."

But hopefully they don't wind up anywhere like that again for a long time, you know?

"I don't blame you. We gotta consider magic shit back home too... There's this guy who calls himself The Sorcerer Supreme. And a witch that's been on the news a lot too."

She seems kinda unhinged, actually.

"Hahaha, the what?" Sharky shakes his head. "Who the fuck died and made him so supreme, Tilda Swinton?" She's always dying in some movie or another.

"I'm like, 50/50 on if we had magic back home, or if the Peggies just had some seriously fucked up meth and, like, triggered some sorta group hallucination, or something..."

"Hey, man. Maybe he's just got the best tricks to pull rabbits out of hats or something." Maybe he should also be more respectful. Not like the guy didn't sacrifice himself to save a whole lot of people... and maybe made life bad for some others. But whatever. He's not getting into that.

"Do I even wanna know what that's supposed to mean?"

"Ohhhh, dude, no." He shakes his head and holds up a hand. "The Teal Deer there is that the psycho cult Pratt and I dealt with back home laced the water supply with fuckin' insaaaaaane methamphetamines that made us all hallucinate like a motherfucker."

The long story usually gets Sharky either riled up or depressed, so he's gonna stick to the broad strokes for now.

"He'd say you were like, y'know, ~following the path~ or whatever. Mostly it just made people tweak out or hallucinate spooky cult ladies."

"Jesus... And I thought the cult I was dealing with was bad enough." At least they hadn't started slipping people meth yet.

"Spooky cult ladies is kinda specific there, buddy."

"Oh, shit, you got a cult, too?" Same hat??? Damn, how many whackjob cults are out there? (Don't answer that.)

"And yeah, uh, I guess it is... huh. Nah, Faith was just some Walter White wannabe in a short flowery skirt." Hot, but so fucking crazy. "If you had to cut through the grow ops, you'd like... see her? But like, not her. Little figments of her outta the corner of your eye, like... or she'd laugh in your ear when she wasn't there. Y'know. Spooky cult shit!"

"Yeah. Uh, he wants to bring back this old god that'll judge everybody who's even thought about doing something evil, all the way down to babies." Which is pretty fucked up, if you ask him. You start wanting to kill kids? You might want to reconsider your method of cleansing the world.

"So-- you were in on the cult shit? Sounds like you got experience."

"Ooooh, evil gods, that's cool." And then he realizes, "No, like, uhhhh.. at least it isn't rehashed Christian doomsday bullshit, I mean. 'Cos that's all we had back home, y'know? Whackjobs all, 'I'm the second coming' or whatever."

Actually, did Joseph ever say anything about Jesus...? He doesn't remember. Fuck it, close enough.

"They took over our hometown and turned it into fuckin' Jonestown, man. And my trailer was gettin' hounded by all these lobotomized evil dudes who like, would not leave me the fuck alone, soooo yeah, I had to step up to them." With a flamethrower, but that part makes him sound like... bad.

"Nah, it was all Egyptian." He huffs out a laugh. "Not sure a giant crocodile lady is really the better alternative though."

Especially when it involves wanting to pre-judge babies for potential future sins.

"That's rough, buddy." Not like Marc would judge him for flamethrower business. Well-- not like he's in a place to, considering how much blood he has on his hands.

"Starting to sound like this cruise is almost a vacation for you."

"Uhhhhhhhh, yeah, I think giant crocodile lady is way better than a Jim Jones knockoff!" But he's also a furry, so, he's hella biased.

Sharky tries not to look super awkward about that follow-up comment, but like, it's suuuuuper true. "I mean... kinda? Like, so far, everything's been really chill. The only thing that bums me out is like... people disappearing and shit. But other than that, I... kinda like it. Uhhh, except the zombies too, that kinda shit sucks if it's just sprung on you."

"Yeah? Well, maybe..." Marc would have no fucking clue what a furry is, at least.

Unless Steven gives him an unfortunate lesson.

"Yeah... I mean, it wouldn't be too bad if there wasn't shit like that." The zombies, the death. He'd take a cruise, just fine.

Steven and Sharky are going to teach Marc about fursonas and they aren't leaving the room until he declares what animal he is.

"Ohhhh my god, right???" Sharky momentarily slumps forward like his strings have been cut, but really he's just letting out a big old sigh of relief. "People get so fuckin' weird about it but like, for me, personally? I'm willin' to accept the risks on excursions if it means I get to vibe out here for the rest of my life."

Okay maybe too honest, but he can't help himself.

He'll finally get to feel like the least crazy person in the room if that happens, at least.

"I think it's harder for people who still have shit they wanna get back to, you know?" Not that Marc doesn't have parts of his life he'll miss, or business he wishes he could see through, but he's dead. He's gonna be dead either way.

Better here where he and Steven can have some kinda life.

"Yeah, I guess that's true. Well, they can do that if they want, but I'm gonna stay here." At least until they ~~find out later that they're all staying here~~ find somewhere better for him to be. Like Florida.

"Besides, the people back home were lame as shit. Y'all are way more fun."

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I'm on a train

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