trans_9 | Tavern log. Yep.

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Tavern log. Yep.

Most of the recently-awakened people had probably heard of the Drunken Dragon tavern within a few days of getting accustomed to the ship. Some had already visited it, and a few had probably even become regulars already.

As usual, the door was open, and Kang and his helpers were there, refilling drinks and being sociable.

The stage was free for anyone that wanted to share a story, sing a song, or play an instrument, and it was more than welcomed, for what's a tavern without some form of entertainment?

[OOC: If your character wants to speak to a tavern person in particular (Kang, Kaylee, Nima or Kali), just make a note of it in your tag. Threads here can pretty much cover any time from the most recent podpop to just after Happy Happy Fun World; backtagging is our friend in T9. :D

Newbies, please make sure to read the tavern link! It's got all the info on the setting, available drinks, etc.]

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"Someone sicced a bunch of coyotes on our daycare back home. Sounds like it'd be up your alley." Even though he's definitely at least tipsy now, he still doesn't find that whole incident funny, but maybe Karis can show him the way. He'd rather think it funny.

"I know, right? I'm so tired of pretending to care about other people. I don't. Other people suck. Other people get all up in my face and take stuff I want." He takes another big drink. The room sways a little. "If I could go to deserted island I'd just take you and Zou and my cat, gotta be honest."

"If you can't laugh at the deaths of small children, what can you laugh at it?" Karis pointed out helpfully. Or not. Who knows?

She sloshed the drink around in her mug for a minute, "That's kinda touching, Howie. Really, I mean that..."

Karis laughed and settled her hand in her chin, "Shit, I just got over that damn visit from my mother. Can finally enjoy myself again."

"Terminal illness. Duh."

He tilts his head to the side and rests it on his palm. "Yeah, what happened there? I mean, you seemed really out of it when you mentioned it."

Karis actually snorts at his retort. Well-played. She chugs some more of her delicious, wonderful alcohol before she even considers replying. After a moment of bleary contemplation, she shrugs sullenly.

"...I never thought I'd see her again. That's all."

Really. Nothing to do with being a zombie.

"But I don't think I'll see my parents again and I don't think I'd be, you know, sad if I did. Maybe angry. I don't know." He takes another drink and closes his eyes to stop the room swaying. "You sure it wasn't anything more'n that?

Karis' eye twitches for a moment and then she leans across the table, one cold, bony hand snaking out to grab Howard's wrist. "I didn't want her to see me like this, Howie."

Were it anyone but Karis, Howard would have yanked his hand away. As it is he still tenses up some - not because Karis' hand feels so very dead, but because it feels so restrictive to have someone touching him, like he can't run away if he wants to. He vaguely realizes that he couldn't run away anyway - he wouldn't trust himself to walk out of the tavern without tripping over his own feet.

"What did she think?"

Karis stares at him for a long moment and then leans forward, voice dropping to a hiss, "She didn't hate me. Can you believe that?"

And then she laughs. It's a harsh, despairing sound and she drops her gaze to stare at the table. "She still treated me like her daughter. It was..."

Nice. In a way. But she hated every minute of it. "...it just reminded me of what the Hell I am and I don't know if she was forcing herself to look at me or not and I hate it."

In one spasm of motion she wrenches her hand back and goes to her feet, hurling her mug at the far wall, eye twitching again as she lets her rage spin out of contorl for a moment. "Me! How can she look at me and see her? She's dead and gone and it doesn't fucking matter anymore!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can," he says, although quietly and very much beneath the sound of Karis' tantrum. He doesn't know what to do, and suddenly he's getting the feeling that this fun night of getting drunk with a friend and goofing off is taking a very negative and irreversible turn.

He gets up off the chair and puts a shaky hand on her shoulder. "You're right. She doesn't matter anymore."

Karis almost lashes out at Howard, but she stops herself and lets her shoulders slump. She doesn't want to hurt him. Not physically. He's a friend and she only hurts friends emotionally. Because it's fun. Because that's what she does to people she actually likes. She sways on her feet and the energy seems to drain out of her.

"...Howie, you ever wish you could just forget a part of your life?"

"I wish that all the time. Every minute of every day." He sits back down. "If I ever figure out a machine that lets you do it, I'll let you borrow it."

Karis wants to hurt something or someone, but the only person in convenient range is Howie. So she sinks back into her chair with a sullen grunt.

"I'd 'preciate that. Quite a bit."

She pauses for a moment.

"...crap, now I need a new drink."

"I'll go get it and you can laugh at me when I fall over," Howard offers.

"Yeah, sure," Karis manages to croak out a laugh, "Might as well. Oh, yeah... Get yerself some water while you're up or you're gonna hate yourself tomorrow."

Hey, she actually gave helpeful advice for once.

"I never been hungover," Howard says, suddenly nervous about the whole thing. "Shit, I got a Med Bay shift in the morning."

He does manage to get her another mead and another water for himself, although he's spilled about half of the latter on himself by the time he makes it back to her. "Here. Cheer up, emo zombie."

"The Hell does emo even mean? And I'm fine," Karis shoots back, although you wouldn't be able to tell from the way she's sulking, "Just lemme drink."

"Emo. You know. Emotional." He rests his head on the table. "Do you still want company or should I beat it?"

While he waits for her answer he hums the tune to 'Beat It' under his breath.

"M'not being emotional," Karis gripes, "I'm just frustrated!"

Totally different. She takes the mug and settles back in her chair, still sulking, "No. Stick around. Drinking alone is the most depressing thing you can do. And pathetic."

"Frustrated is an emotion." He's probably not being very helpful right now. The table is cool against his cheek.

"Okay. I'll stay. But no more mead. I think I'm completely tanked right now."

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Tavern log. Yep.

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/wrap?