Are you on the square? Are you on the level?

[theweakhavepurpose]

Who: Deputy Pratt & You
What: A reckoning is upon you (He's storming the halls looking for Sharky)
Where: Everywhere!
When: Mid-October
Warnings: Violence. Cult stuff. Cannibalism. Skinning. Gore. The standard Pratt warning buffet.
Notes: Bracket or prose, live your truth.



1. The World Is Weak - Laundry Room
It's already been well established that the best place to have a breakdown on the ship is in the Laundry Room, so that's where Pratt is. Though he's not crying, he's not yelling or throwing things or freaking out over a jacket like last time. No, he's pacing. Back and forth and back and forth, again and again while staring at the ground. He has his arms folded, clutching across his chest, which is an awkward position while walking but he doesn't move them.

He doesn't know what to do. Well, he knows what he wants to do, but he also knows that he is the master of terrible decisions so maybe he should think about it?

Back and forth. Back and forth.

Enjoying yourself?

"Shut the fuck up."

2. Eviction Notice - Decks

When Deputy Pratt leaves his room in the morning, he's wearing his full uniform, his belt jangling with every step, along with the dog tags around his neck. Idly he trails his fingers along the wall as he goes, dragging through some of those bloody notes left on doors without even seeming to react to it.

"Sharky! Shaaaaarkkkkyyyy..."

For all that people have seen him sobbing into mashed potatoes, enjoying himself in the arcade, or just generally being a morose but kind of endearing dork, there's another side to him that even Clarke hasn't seen. The last time he was walking like this he was losing himself to the conditioning and barely knew what he was doing. This is different. Pratt is in absolute control of himself and that is so much worse.

"It's been a day and we had a deal. A pact even." Pratt normally sounds like a raven with laryngitis, but right now his voice is so low and controlled when he talks that it could probably be used to grind glass. If it's not obvious Pratt is pissed. He's fucking furious. And that cold fury is being bottled up, saving it for later, for when he needs to act.

"It's okay, you can come out. We just need to talk. We're going to have a little chat. That's all."

He gets to the end of the hall of cabins, blood trailing from his fingers across all the doors from the loving notes left to Ebalon. He reaches up to his forehead, using the blood to draw a cross down his nose and across his forehead.

"Did you think you were finally free?"

This is probably fine.

Comments

1.

[busball]

Klaus isn’t really sure what’s going on when he spots Pratt pacing in the laundry room. He’s deeeefinitely never seen him like this and what are bros for except to cautiously peek in and maybe help? “Heeey, buddy,” he tries, softly, hesitantly, which is followed by a response directed at something else that he can’t hear (unbeknownst to Klaus, but knownst to us).

“Okaaaaaay. Geez.” They hold up their hands. “I was just checking in.”

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt startles when a voice other than Jacob's speaks. Maybe he should have realized that having this little episode in a public place means he might have to deal with, you know, the public.

He could have paced to his hearts content in his own room, but he hasn't had the energy to move any of Caitlyn's stuff and seeing it just makes him sad. So here he is. In the laundry room. Snapping at the walls.

"Oh. Hey. Not you. Sorry." He takes a deep breath, closing in on himself for a moment. "Sorry I was talking to... nothing."

He stops pacing though, so maybe that's good.

"Checking in? Uh.. Situation normal. Fine. Everything is fine."

No one in the history of existence has ever said something was 'fine' and meant it. And Pratt isn't about to break that streak.

[busball]

Klaus nods. Yeah. Sometimes he talks to nothing, too. Usually himself or some idea in his head about himself. It seems...normal?

There is an arched eyebrow at everything is fine. "I'd argue it's a little less fine, but I won't press if you don't want to talk about how not fine it is."

Stepping a little closer, but not fast or too close, Klaus considers Pratt for a moment. "Do you like...need a hug or to go outside or...I can tell people to fuck off if you need to keep talking to...uh...nothing."

1

[nyktifanis]

How rude. ( honestly, she didn't even say anything, and instead was searching for a few towels to take back with her. then again, there's no one talking at all aside from him so maybe she should be concerned. )

You should excuse your manners if not caution.

( there's a small frown visible on her face as she looks to pratt. )

[theweakhavepurpose]

[ He hadn't even seen her, which is pretty obvious from the way he stares like a deer in headlights waiting for a truck to mow him over. ]

Uhhhhh...

[ Smooth. Excellent first impression.]

Sorry I was... talking to... uhm. Well not you. My bad. Didn't think anyone was here.

[nyktifanis]

( oh, he apologized. okay from bond -1 to bond 0, things can be fixed as long as someone is aware of their actions.

...

with one towel in hand, she watches the other curiously before looking around the room.

is he sick? )

What did you hear that made you so upset?

( asking should be okay, probably. )

2!

[selenokinesis]

[Bro his fucking LOVE NOTES?? Hello???

Not that he's super attached to them, but when he hears a familiar voice talking in the hall and pokes his head out to see Pratt drawing on himself with door blood, uh... suffice it to say, his curiosity is piqued.]

Pratt? Do you need... assistance?

[theweakhavepurpose]

[ He looks right at, or rather through, the Moon Master. ]

Ten-fifty-four. Situation handled.

[selenokinesis]

[Unfortunately, Ebalon isn't familiar with police code, but he figures this is some sort of jargon and leaves it at that. More important is that empty-eyed stare.

Ebalon breathes a short sigh, aiming to distract real quick...]

What is the situation, exactly?

[And with that, he's going to oh-so-casually reach out into Pratt's brain with his mind magic and scan his thoughts. What's going on in that mess of a mind, buddy?]

2

[actuallyawolf]

"Uh. Are. Are you okay?"

Ylva emerges from her cabin, hackles raised, head lowered, the posture of someone assessing a potential threat.

"What's going on?"

[theweakhavepurpose]

He's definitely a threat, just not to her right now. When he looks over at her his whole expression just feels wrong, his eyes are hard, unblinking, the rest of his face has almost no emotion at all, like maybe only his eyes can move right now.

"I'm fine. Gonna be just fine." He looks back down the hall to where he was headed, "I'm looking for Sharky."

[actuallyawolf]

"Yeah? And what did Sharky do?"

She slips out into the hallway, shutting the door behind her. Did she leave her sword behind? Yes. But she never considers herself unarmed.

"The way you're yelling, he's either not here or he's ignoring you."

2. now the man in the back is ready to crack

[broshaw]

There aren't many sights more foreboding than that of a Judge on the hunt. Certainly not many on this ship, where most of the damage has been through personal spats and none of these passengers have experienced the prey-based instinct that comes with being stalked by an apex predator.

But Pratt, as frightening a figure as he may cut, is hardly the first person to hunt this guy for sport across the promenade. No, that honor would have to go to Daisy, stalking him after hitting on her emotional support cop. And she'd only been the first... not the last, by any means.

So, when he hears Officer Staci Pratt's jingling cop belt and sees the bloody cross drawn on his face, his only real thought is, Fiiiiinally. Finally, something he understands. Ava snitched on him, and now he's going to have to fight for his second life.

Hurikane isn't busy, and this guy isn't lying low; he doesn't get up from the bar but he does watch from his seat, waiting to be noticed. There's a half-drunk bottle of Jack Daniels in front of him and the bartop itself has been thoroughly graffitied with pentagrams and crude skulls. The knife he used to carve them is still in hand, although he's putting a momentary pause on scratching out PICKLES WZ HERE.

[theweakhavepurpose]

A slow grin spreads across Pratt's face as he enters Hurikane, really it probably should have been the place he checked first instead of stalking all over the ship in a grim patrol. Maybe it would have been better to corner him in his room, or near the hot tub, or anywhere that wouldn't have the two of them punching each other in full sight of everyone on the ship thinking that Pratt had finally snapped and was killing his best friend.

All of those would have been valid things to think, but Pratt didn't. All he cares about is that this, this, is not Sharky. He'd been suspicious of something wrong with him after talking to him, but then Bash... and Ava. No. This is something else, something wrong, something to be culled.

And like any apex predator believing themselves at the top of the hierarchy, he's going to play with his food.

Sharky doesn't move, and Pratt walks towards him, every footfall reverberating even against carpet from the sheer intensity of his forward motion. He doesn't attack him, doesn't even get near him yet. Almost casually he walks behind the bar to stand across from him, hands flat on the countertop as he leans forward.

"Hey buddy."

[broshaw]

He counts the steps on Pratt's approach, following him with his eyes as he rounds the bar and comes to a stop on the other side.

"...Hey."

Don't hurt Pratt, Ava had said. He isn't used to honoring those kinds of promises, but he does let go of the knife handle, letting it clatter to the bartop between them. His phone is in his pocket, but getting out a text will probably be impossible. That's fine. This is fine. It was a good ride until now.

"Like the cross. Very Alice Cooper of ya." He's not bothering with the Sharky act. It's pretty obvious that has not been working as well as he thought it was. "...You figured it out, I guess."

1

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga's coping method is strangely(?) the opposite of violence. He's been cleaning. Trying to do repairs. More cleaning. Which is why he's in the laundromat, enjoying the fact that technology makes cleaning way easier -- even if it still will never come close to Tendi's phaser.

"I didn't say anything." You okay there, Deputy Samurai?

Re: 1

[theweakhavepurpose]

Deputy Samurai is having a time.

He startles at the voice that isn't Jacob's, turning to stare at Nobunaga before looking extremely sheepish. Great, one of the few people he doesn't want to admit he's a lunatic to.

"UH.. Sorry I'm just. Kinda stressed and you know..." He gestures to the floor where he's probably wearing the finish off the tile, "Pacing. It's not super effective."

[konpeito_aji]

Nobunaga's first friend, maybe ever (do missionaries count given the politics where he has to pretend they're not friends? Probably not, so EVER) died in a fiery blaze of something, so Nobunaga kind of gets it. His own personal reaction is a hard rubberband snap into almost completely detached. But he was never programmed by a cult. Actually, the cold detached Demon King persona is basically an effect of fighting all the cults.

"I've been cleaning." He says this, because he knows how weird it is, even if others don't. He also took Klaus on a 'date' inside Spirit Halloween, which was amazingly fucked up, it was great. "Let's do something better than pacing. I'll work with you through it, even if you're not ready to talk." It's basically what he does around camp in war too. Millions of busywork little errands, pretending he doesn't feel the loss of a single soldier even though as their commander, it's all on him. Checking the horses' shoes and condition, checking the campfires. Checking the supplies -- there's never enough arrows. All these things are delegated, but he can always find someone injured who needs a help or to get ordered back to tent so Nobunaga can take their place instead.

There are two things nothing can make Nobunaga move on. 1) He will never use the weapon of hate. Not on anyone. 2) He will never abandon someone. Especially not during a crisis.

2

[wimdy]

[ well that’s not. concerning…

it’s actually the sound of the dog tags that seems to ping at venti, as if almost like an alarm or alert, something is wrong. especially considering what pratt had said about it. there’s the feeling of the wind (even inside, the surreality) that brushes to pratt, rustling at the tags still more; a moment afterwards venti’s voice is behind him, ] Mr Pratt—?

[ it’s prooobably not a great idea to startle him; he approaches from the side, the tap of his shoes announcing his approach, an attempt not to seem… well, threatening or sudden. ]

Is something the matter? Say, you could text your friend if you’re looking for them. [ or he’s getting the feeling this ‘sharky’ probably needs some warning and time to run. ]

[theweakhavepurpose]

[He does freeze when he feels that wind and hears the voice, so it's probably a good thing Venti didn't sneak up on him. ]

Yes. Yes, something is the matter. But it'll be okay, I'm going to sort it all out.

[He turns his head to look at Venti without turning any of his body, giving him the weird impression of being a marionette.]

This needs to be discussed in person. Don't worry, Sharky will be fine.

[Since, you know, it's not Sharky.]

[wimdy]

Mr Pratt, you said once that you would rather destroy Mr Seed’s things. You shouldn’t be wearing those, surely. [ unless something has changed—it clearly has, but it surely isn’t for the better. ]

Do you recall when you’d endangered Miss Clarke and what happened with the two of you? [ he knows the broad strokes of what happened, but he’s trying to get a gauge of pratt’s… lucidity right now, or memory. ]

2

[obeyseventually]

Jack has already fought one passenger at this point, and he's still battered from that. He wants to head back to his cabin, or maybe find a small, safe corner of the ship to- no, no, cabin first, that's where his things are. He needs somewhere safe to rest and regroup, and he has supplies that could come in handy in his room.

In the stairwell, he can hear Pratt's voice. He assumes that he's talking to someone - or hopes, rather, but that hope is dashed when he sees the other man and the blood painted on his face.

Jack feels resigned, and that resignation dulls his voice as he asks: "Pratt? You good?"

[theweakhavepurpose]

Pratt turns to look at him and his expression says more than any words ever could. His head pivots, but his body doesn't, almost like they're two separate entities under different control.

"Better than I have been in a while." Pratt is tired of being nice, he just wants to go apeshit.

1

[touchofcashmere]

He peers into the laundry room. It's a bit odd that he's down here true, but he's trying to find something to get the stain out of a white linen scarf before it sets and he's trying to take some of the burden off of others now that things are a little...tense.

He sees Pratt and the man is clearly... not well.

"Oh...er...hello. Are you alright?" He frowns. "Are you feeling a bit...down again?" He doesn't know the term for it. Murderous seemed rude and he's not entirely sure if it's true, but he's not entirely sure if it's not either.

[theweakhavepurpose]

He freezes and stares at Stede, mind completely blanking on how to proceed. There's about three people on the ship he absolutely does not want to explain this to, and Stede is near the top of it, right behind Fio.

"Urk." A grand start. Well done. "I... Uhm."

Think dammit think. Can he lie and say he was in here doing something else? Like what? Wanking it in the laundry room???

"Guess I'm not handling the whole.. ship falling apart thing real well. With everyone you know... going nuts." He frowns staring at the wall where that hallucination is smirking at him because he's enjoying the hell out of this. "Pretty sure I don't deal with stress very well."