come_sailaway | We're wide awake now, our eyes are wide open. We're running this world, we keeping it turning

See if he tells you any more fun secrets he finds out!

"Seeing as I never have, and would like to keep it that way, I'll leave it to the rest of you to figure out." He rolls his eyes, because it's not like they're going to have much of a choice about it. Still he's fine with Skulduggery test driving the death mechanic and letting him know how it goes. Be a team player and all that. ~~Or he would anyway but he'll die first. Whoops.~~

"I think I speak for everyone when I say, don't set the ship on fire. For all the water around, fires on boats are catastrophic."

"I'm sure I'll sort it out eventually." And he will, although he's not yet convinced he can have infinite do-overs if he dies. Not yet, anyway!!!

"Oh, come on. I've never set a ship on fire. Houses? Sure. Cars, bars, people, of course. But never a ship." ...Oh. "Well, there was that one ferry -- you know what, okay. Promise, I won't set the ship on fire." Intentionally, anyway.

"Now, I wouldn't mind another hand, what about you?"

"Convincing. All my concerns have been addressed." In that he is absolutely expecting the place to go up in flames around them within the next hour.

"Certainly, I have nowhere to be. We might as well amuse ourselves while we can." He picks his stack of chips up, letting them click against each other to count them. Not that it really matters how much he has, he can just pull more out of the bucket whenever he wants. But it's a habit at this point.

"It's either here, or lurking in some abandoned bar surrounded by ghosts." Skulduggery's tone telegraphs just how he feels about that choice - that is to say, not great. "At least there are plenty of people around to make for good entertainment."

He shifts in his seat like he sat wrong, and decides that for his own comfort, he's going to have to play his mischievous hand.

"Hold on," he says, pulling open his jacket so that he can withdraw the gift-wrapped bundle that's been pushed up against where his nonexistent intestines would be. He's relieved to drop it on the table, like a floppy little rectangle. "There," he sighs. "Lucky for me, I'm thin enough not to ruin my silhouette with random packages."

Suspicion Level: 0

"The casino is equally dismal. There's something about an empty, quiet casino that set's me on edge."

He eyes that weird floppy thing on the side of the table now, only slightly curious what it might be.

"Why are you walking around with gifts inside of your ribcage?" Not that he has any better suggestions for what someone should keep in all that empty space.

"I'm less likely to forget where I put them, mostly." Skulduggery straightens his shirt out, then his jacket, and seemingly has the presence of mind to be ever so slightly embarrassed by the situation. Keyword: seemingly.

"I heard that if you got lucky, sometimes there'd be packages waiting for you at the sundries shop. Figured I'd stop by on the way and see if there was anything... well, lo and behold."

He taps the package that is pretty plainly clothes. He doesn't say that it's a special package from Friday, nor does he mean to imply that it could be nice clothes. But it sure seems like that's what he's doing!

Suspicion level: 3

"Who is sending mail to a ship in the middle of the ocean?" His voice disbelieving. How did someone know to mail Skulduggery something? And why? And why something that is obviously clothes and not say a ballistic missile.

"Why haven't you opened it yet?"

Edited 2022-05-05 16:15 (UTC)

"That's what I was wondering, too. My current theory is that beneficial items arrive as flotsam from whatever method is used to bring us here. It's just lying around, so the captain doles it out as prizes to keep us from an all-out war against him."

This is a wild theory, one he just sort of came up with on the fly, but now that he's saying it... it holds some weight. There aren't many other reasons for beneficial care packages, that's for sure.

"As to why I haven't opened it... hm. You'll probably think I'm crazy if I say."

Suspicion level: 5

"How do you know it's beneficial if you don't even know what it is?" Now all his attention is on the package and none on the cards.

"I may already think that, but do go on." Maybe he was wrong and this actually is a bomb and Skulduggery is about to blow them both up.

"Good to know you think so highly of me." Not that he cares -- he knows he's crazy, it's everyone else who needs to catch up.

"Well. Fine." He pats the package, which is definitely not a bomb, because it doesn't immediately detonate and blow them all to bits. "Look. It's stupid, but -- well. I was going to open it, and then I thought... what would be more fun, opening it, or speculating about what it might have inside?"

Yes, this is his "if I don't scratch the scratcher, I'm always a winner" mindset. Or at least, that's the mindset he's pretending to have.

"I mean, I know it's clothes. I can tell that." He slides it towards the center of the table, so Max can poke it and be sure of it himself. "If they were clothes from my tailor, then they'd be... obviously amazing."

They aren't. But that's beside the point.

"And I could probably use another suit, right?"

They both could. They've discussed this. Skulduggery remembers very distinctly discussing this.

"But at the same time... Do I want to accept a gift from the captain? Is that really a good idea?"

Hmmm, he seems to be thinking. HMMMMM.

"I was going to just chuck it overboard out of spite, but again, if it's a nice suit..." He shrugs, holds up his hands and sighs. "You can see my dilemma."

Max does not understand that mindset because he wants the things! He needs to know about them so he can rub them in other peoples faces. You can't really brag about 'potential' wins unless they're statistically likely to happen.

But he is... curious. Very curious. An absolutely dangerous trait to have that has gotten him into trouble in the past and will continue to do so until he can figure out how to write it out of his programming. Which he would first have to figure out how to alter any of that to begin with. So if he can go back in time to before he existed and then --- point is he is very curious and that's bad.

Setting his cards facedown on the table he hefts the package. It is definitely clothing, it weighs approximately how much a thin jacket or maybe a nice shirt would. Then again if it's made to fit Skulduggery it would be far less fabric in order to fit his skeletal physique. The way it drapes in his hand tells him only that it's not wool. He can't really distinguish much else than that without opening it himself.

"A few questions arise." He bounces it in his hand before putting it back down. "What makes you think this is from the captain? How good is this tailor of yours? Why wouldn't you want another suit even if it is potentially from this trauma eating captain?"

He doesn't expect that Skulduggery actually has answers to all these, but can't help but ask.

"Personally I'd accept suits from the captain, I could use another suit. I already had this one ruined by someone and apparently there's no tailor or clothing shop on board."

Sure would be convenient if there happened to be a suit piece hand delivered to him. He eyes it again.

"Are you really going to throw it overboard?"

Skulduggery sits back in his chair, throwing one arm over the back. "Well... Everything is technically from the captain aboard the ship, isn't it? And I'll have you know, my tailor is beyond reproach. Not only are his suits practically impenetrable, but they never wrinkle, and the fabric is always of the highest quality."

For a moment, he allows himself to feel just a little bit guilty for leading Max on like this. Then, he just wishes Ghastly Bespoke were here in person to get a load of this shit.

"That didn't take you long, did it?" he asks, surprised. What a lucky coincidence! "After all that worrying about there not being a dry cleaner's. ...I guess just chucking it might seem unfair, then, given your circumstances. I mean, if it were a suit. But I'm not going to be wearing any clothes that may be gifts from the captain." He laughs, "That's third date sort of stuff."

Ohhhh, he wonders if it'd be pushing it to just suggest they bet for it. No. No, if he pushes, it'll be suspicious. He's fairly certain Max is the sort of person to prefer gambling and dealing over outright asking for something, and if he really wants the package, well, they've got cards right in front of them. (Part of Skulduggery worries he might just ask for it outright; if he does that, then it'll turn into a terrible gift, instead of a hilarious prank, and it'll make him an awful friend instead of a hilarious one.)

He steeples his fingers, thinking.

"How does fabric not wrinkle? Are you making that up?" He's not entirely suspicious of the package anymore, but he definitely doesn't believe that. He comes from a world with future technology that can do all kinds of things but they don't have the science to make unwrinklable suits. ~~And he is suddenly intensely jealous of that.~~.

"I was shot, thank you for your concern." Voice dripping with sarcasm, "Well the captain can hardly take you out to dinner, so perhaps he skipped to the next logical step."

Jokes are just stalling while he ponders his next move here. He's not going to ask for it, because for starters he doesn't know what it is and asking a favor means he then owes a favor. He doesn't like owing anyone anything. If this is a suit, which does seem likely given how Skulduggery is dressed, then that could be useful to fix the whole distressed jean thing he has going on with his pants right now. Skulduggery is bigger than him, but he's also, .. svelte is not the right word, but thin enough that anything tailored for him would likely only be slightly big on Max and not completely the wrong proportions.

Hmmmm.

"Care to make a wager on the next hand?"

Skulduggery super, super wants to know who shot Max. He wants to know why, and he wants to know if he's allowed to laugh about it. It's hilarious, okay? He's been running around, throwing magic fireballs, poking and prodding where he's unwelcome, and yet Max is the one sporting the sundered duds? Fantastic.

But he has much bigger fish to fry. Ahab himself never pulled this one off.

He tilts his head consideringly. "...I guess it's more interesting than cashless chips," he admits. "Alright, fine. It'll be more fun than chucking it into the drink, anyway."

He wouldn't be super keen on anyone laughing at him for any reason, but he'd be far less pleased considering how much it hurt. And thinking about it will just get him all agitated and wanting to go punch the one who shot him even more, which will wind up with him getting shot again, and then even more embarrassing repair sessions with strangers.

It was a terrible experience, and he will learn nothing from it.

"You do have to open it if you win it, I at least want to see what it is."

Does Skulduggery feel bad about what's about to go down? No, not really. Will he feel bad about it later, when he's had time to reflect on his actions? ...Nah.

Skulduggery decides he'll try to play a fair game before he throws it, at least so Max won't feel like he's being given a hand-out.

"And if you win, I hope you'll wear it out," he laughs. "But I've got a good feeling about my lucky streak, and a bad feeling about yours."

It's playful table-top ribbing between pals, and Skulduggery does a good job of not sounding ominous when he says it.

Probably for the best as right now his suspicion level is hovering around a 2, but that will spike it to an 11 and he's back to making unfair assumptions about Skulduggery's desire to see some pyrotechnics.

"Is that so?" All but purred, the minute someone makes the barest hint that he might lose he's in insta-competitive mode. And wow that's triggering his desire to win something fierce. He's going to crush you Skulduggery.

He takes another look at his cards, and pushes a stack of chips forward. "Let's see how long that luck holds out."

Admittedly, if this were a fair game, Skulduggery would actually be intimidated by the posturing. Playing cards has always been something to pass the time between battles, to keep the nerves down and the camaraderie up. The way Max plays is... well, quite frankly, it's too rich for his blood.

Good thing this isn't supposed to be a fair game!

"So, Max," he says, not willing to show too much focus on the game, "If the captain could bring you something to make life easier here, what do you think it'd be? And don't say clothes."

"Clothes would admittedly help." His voice vaguely bitter, because really it shouldn't be the captain doing that. It should be the jerk who shot him and unfortunately for all his scheming he can't quite figure out a way to force him to do so.

"Easier? I don't know that it's difficult, currently it's vaguely boring." Mostly because he sleeps only a few hours a week and has way too much time on his hands.

"I've no idea what they'd think to give me." And he's also not going to think of anything deeply personal he'd want and then say it out loud. He is not someone who shares anything other than the most superficial of things. In his experience, everything can be used against you at a moments notice. Skulduggery might be one of the people he doesn't despise, but that doesn't mean he trusts him.

"Hm." The cards are irrelevant, really, but he makes an effort to look them over in case he can make anything out of the hand. "If it were me, and he was being very nice, he'd give me my Bentley. It wouldn't do any good, but... I do miss that car."

Unlike Max, he's not unwilling to share his deepest desires. It just happens that his deepest desires are pretty fucking shallow.

Now you're speaking Max's language, "A Bently? What year?"

At least this is something he can talk about that isn't deep dark secrets. "There's so few left in my time. Well ones that haven't been converted anyway. Combustion engines are no longer allowed to be driven due to environmental regulations so many people had theirs stripped and redone to the newer specifications. But that's damaging the integrity of the car."

He shakes his head sadly at the loss of innocent car life, "I have a private track I could drive one on, but unfortunately haven't been able to source any."

Because his net worth is a mere single digit of billions and not hundreds of billions. A peasant really.

"Really? That's horrible." Skulduggery tries to imagine what it would be like to have to refit the love of his life to fit some arbitrary environmental standards and visibly shudders. "I can't imagine doing that to my car. Can't imagine not having her, either." And boy does he sound reverent when he elaborates, "She's a 1954 R-Type Continental. They only ever made 208."

And then he clears his throat and says, totally normally, "I would definitely let you have a go behind the wheel if that were at all possible." It's not, so that's an easy promise to keep! "You'd probably like it."

Finally something they can truly commiserate about. "Oh that is a wonderful year. The R-Type has the best fender design, there's something about how graceful the lines are that really stands out."

He eyes Skulduggery and makes an educated guess, "Painted black I take it?"

"Mine is based off of a 1937 Talbot-Lago. Not original of course seeing as how only two remain in my time and converting those to be driveable now should be a crime punishable by death. But it's based off the original schematics and hand crafted, so I suppose being the only one in existence is the best I can do given the circumstances. The new cars in my time lack the same elegance. For some reason people prefer to drive around in formless boxes."

He lives in a time of flying cars and they basically all suck except for his.

"Too bad about the manufacturer, there. They sold in the 50's, at least for me, and if I remember correctly, every car after failed to have the same unique engine and charm. They had a nice looking coupe out at the time, but..." But you just know the Bentley is better.

"I've noticed the boxy trend with modern cars in my era, too. Sad to know that's going to be the standard going forward -- whatever happened to class?"

The Bentley is always better. And this relaxing foray into a conversation he actually cares about is lulling him into a false sense of security about what's going to transpire shortly.

"I'm unsure. To fit more people and cargo in it I suppose, though I'm not sure what people are carting all over the place. It's especially tragic since in my time we've solved problems related to aerodynamics and safety, you could make your car look however you wish. And still people choose boxes. It's sad really."

Know what else is sad? But for Skulduggery? This four of a kind that Max has.

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