ic inbox;; drift fleet

[fantachetic]

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[fantachetic]

[ Dorian laughs a bit hollowly, settling into the shuttle and putting in their destination. ]

You say that as if we both won't fit.

[theirondragon]

[It doesn't take much prodding to get Bull to follow him into the shuttle, and he heads in after him.]

I'm not that big, but thanks. Aren't these things ship-specific?

[fantachetic]

They go from ship-to-ship, do they not? I see why you wouldn't be able to take the shuttle to your own, later.

[theirondragon]

[Now that Dorian mentioned it, this shuttle was identical to the one he'd flown here.]

Do they go back on their own?

[Most of the time, he just didn't think about the tech. Then he did...and it got weird.]

[fantachetic]

I hadn't given it much thought. [ He waves a hand flippantly. ]

[theirondragon]

[He blinks and shakes his head, looking forward, in whatever direction they're headed.]

I'm thinking about something more than you. [A scoff.] Shit, I'm glad I bought the hard stuff.

[fantachetic]

Why would you ever think about something other than me?

[ He knows exactly what Bull means, but he reserves the right to be a bit of a shit right now, also flirting is a good buffer between him and feelings. He hums in agreement about the quality of their liquor. ]

Quite.

[theirondragon]

[Years of Ben-Hassrath training are all that keep Bull from actually looking surprised at Dorian's flirting. All he'd ever done before was abjectly deny it. Still, Bull was no stranger to flirting, either, and instead of surprise, he smirks and nods, conceding Dorian's point.]

You think I can't think about you and other shit at the same time? If you're that distracting, you're going to have to prove it.

[fantachetic]

[ Oh, a challenge, was it? He can certainly be distracting, but perhaps now is not the time for that particular form of distraction. Bull needed someone to talk to. Someone to help process all that shit that went down.. Maybe he can help Dorian make sense of it, too.

Dorian leads them down the hall and to his room once more. It feels a bit more welcoming than sitting in the cramped kitchen. It will be more private, as well. Not the greatest subject matter to be discussing in the open. It's far too vulnerable. ]

Perhaps I'll take you up on that at another time.

[theirondragon]

[Talking isn't something Bull normally wants to do when it's bad things. Feelings in general, sure, but did he want to talk about this? With Dorian? Now? After dropping the bombshell that Leilani was dead? Not really. He hadn't even included he'd been the one to kill her. He wasn't planning on it, either.

Dorian's bedroom was actually familiar, and taking a seat on that bed was nice. He hadn't actually realized how weary his bones were until they were on something comfortable. Shit.]

Yeah? No time like the present, right?

[fantachetic]

Indeed.

[ He shoulders his grief as best he can until the door to his room closes and they're alone. Only then does he allow his shoulders to drop as he sits on the steamer trunk at the end of his bed. Dorian is tired- in body and heart, but it's a comfort that he's in familiar company. Maker, he needs another drink. ]

Do you intend to share, or are you having a one-person party over there?

[theirondragon]

[If Dorian doesn't like this, he can just deal with the fact that he opened himself up for it. The Bull had bought two bottles, but, while he did hold one out, he didn't move any closer.]

Or, you know, you could come over here and we could party together.

[fantachetic]

[ While he's not too keen on closing the respectable distance between them, Dorian's hand itches to hold the bottle. To have something he knows he can rely on until he gets absolutely, irresponsibly drunk. Scooting up, Dorian does move to the bed to sit next to Bull. Closer to the alcohol, he tells himself.

Which he promptly takes from Bull, opens, and takes a hearty drink despite the burn in his throat. ]

[theirondragon]

[See, there's a reason Bull bought more than one bottle because he laughs while he's opening the other one, but it's an appreciative laugh. It's a laugh borne of amusement at something real, normal, and not the least bit completely fucked.]

Nice! [And he raises his own bottle in a sort of...mock toast.] To getting totally fucked up and not thinking about fucking zombies.

[and he takes a really healthy hit of his own bottle, and exhales hard at the burn going down. That was good. That was very good.]

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian has to clear his throat from the burn, his eyes watering, but he doesn't regret the strength nor the quantity. It's helping to process everything Bull's told him. The more numb he is, the better it will be later on. Tomorrow, he may hate himself, but that is a problem for future Dorian. ]

Not thinking about zombies, indeed. [ His voice is a bit raspy from the drink, but it doesn't stop him from having another. Here is to not thinking about how his best friend died and he wasn't there. Here is to being utterly useless in a situation that could have benefited from his expertise. ]

[theirondragon]

[Even the Bull has to clear his throat after that stuff. This was going to be a good day...night...maybe he'd actually sleep. It was hard to say.]

You know, I only went out there for horn balm. [He shook his head slightly and eyed the bottle again before taking another, shorter, pull from it.

And clearing his throat again.]

Didn't even find any.

[fantachetic]

You found rather more than horn balm.

[ Not that he wanted to. He's sure Bull went on a whim, and regretted it. Continues to regret it, if their current conversation is anything worth mentioning. ]

[theirondragon]

[The only response Bull offered to the comment was a nod at first. He could try to play it off, pretend it was awesome how many he killed, but...they'd been people...innocent travelers just like them. It'd only been a day.]

...wildfires spread slower than...whatever that was.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian occupies himself by taking another drink, composing in his head what he is going to say. There are many things he wants to ask, all for the sake of knowing, but his search for knowledge can be a bit crass. ]

What do you believe caused it? It couldn't possibly have been these 'Atroma' we've heard so much about?

[theirondragon]

Don't know.

[And he really hasn't been trying to puzzle it out, Dorian.]

Look. All I know is this: if they bite you, you die. Then you get back up and join the pack. I mean... [He looked thoughtfully at his bottle before knocking it back again, growling out a breath afterward. Surely this shit would kick in soon, right?]

I guess somebody had to start it, right?

[fantachetic]

So-- what? Someone was bitten and it locked down an entire waystation?

[ That seems too quick for just one person to have started. The question remains unanswered just how it started with whoever got the ball rolling, so to speak. Surely, they had to know beforehand, didn't they?

Whatever this is, or was, is contagious, that's for certain. Much like the Taint in Thedas, which is greatly concerning. What has to be done to prevent it from occurring again? ]

Was it someone from the Fleet who started this, or do we have to be concerned about future places we visit?

[theirondragon]

I guess? It's fast. I was trying to help people get across the courtyard to the shuttles, but a group caught up with us.

[He looked off, taking another big hit from that bottle before continuing. This time, it didn't burn. Good.]

Everybody was panicking. A guy went down. Two people trampled him before the undead got to him. You ever seen somebody rip out a guy's throat with human teeth? He bled out in seconds. And then he got up, rolled over, and bit into the guy next to him who was pinned.

...it was fucking. Fast.

[fantachetic]

Maker..

[ He'd gathered by Bull's upset that it had been horrible, but this? A hysteria quickly followed on the heels of this much death and reanimation? An endless cycle of dying.

Dorian shakes his head and looks at Bull with his brow furrowed. ]

I'm sorry.

[theirondragon]

Bah. [He shakes his head and hits the bottle again, then turns to look at Dorian...and his bottle.]

Hey. You're fallin' behind. This isn't about looking pretty with your bottle. [And he leaned over slightly, nudging Dorian's shoulder with his own.] Your turn.

[fantachetic]

[ Dorian grouses, but picks the bottle up and takes a few drinks. His fingers are starting to tingle, which is a damn better sign than anything else. Once his limbs have difficulty with coordination is when he truly knows he's drunk. The sooner his thoughts start to muddle, the better it will be for both of them. ]

I'm keeping up just fine, thank you.