Potatoes?

[plantussy]

CHARACTERS: Vash & You
TIME: Today
LOCATION: Mess Hall
WARNINGS: Alcohol and being blackout drunk

[ There's a bit of a mess in the cafeteria, and the mess is named Vash Saverem. Slumped over the table like an oversized toddler, the engineer is clutching a pail like it's the most important item in the world.

Whatever is in it smells awful. Like straight up death and dumb ideas. Trying to grow potatoes from synthesized ones was one horrible mistake, and trying to ferment them into alcohol an even worse one. How he's even managed to drink himself stupid on it without throwing it up from the taste alone is impressive.

He just - he needed to get that image out of his brain by any means possible. His twin, filling the sky with blades, slicing through stone like it was butter. His laughter. So yeah, he might have been binge-drinking from a pail of cloudy death vodka.

...the only redeeming quality in this pathetic display is the P-HYMN-1.A on the table next to him, showing acceptable levels of methanol. He'll live, but he'll be wishing he didn't when the terrible moonshine has run its course. ]

Comments

[anesthetic_rage]

Hey, smells like someone cut the turkey without me!

[Zaeed marched right on in and smelled the rank, sour odor of whatever mash had been stewing and turning into something potent, if not actually pleasant. Slapping Vash on the shoulder, he grabbed a seat and took ahold of the cloudy pail of death before grunting.]

Be a good lad. We're god-damned sharing, and if we both go blind, Hilbert gets to have some fun with that shit.

[plantussy]

[ Vash mumbles something incoherent as Zaeed speaks and slaps him on the shoulder. He's drunk to the point of being a goopy mess, so the other man can take the awful attempt at booze pail from his hands. ]

Huh? Y'wanna... s'bad. Real bad.

[ Comes his voice from his head on the table, muffled and slurred. ]

[anesthetic_rage]

If it doesn't kill me, then I dub it a damned success.

[One swig and he managed to set the pail down with a cough and a hack. Hoo fuck, that was some foul hootch, and he had a hacking fit as his throat burned, but he got it down.]

That's just about as bad as I thought.

[plantussy]

[ Why would you ever do that to yourself, Zaeed? ]

Mmm... not even helping. Gimmie.

[ He makes grabby hands for the awful pail. ]

[anesthetic_rage]

[Here you go, buddy. He's an enabler, even if he's definitely enjoying the fruits with minimal help to his name.]

Hoo boy. Yeah, this is so bad it probably isn't helping much. What're you forgetting?

[Because why else you drinking?]

[plantussy]

[ Vash tips the pail to his lips and takes another swig of the absolutely horrible swill he's made. There's a pained grunt as he swallows, the concoction not tasting any better than paint thinner and death. ]

I had... one of those... one of those memories. It wasn't good.

[ It's a little hard to hear what he's drunkenly mumbling, but it's somewhat coherent. ]

[anesthetic_rage]

Ah. Say no more. Never enough booze in the world to stop, but it helps... a little.

[He'd wait his turn, but as soon as he could take a swig he would. The thought of the Reapers, of London burning, it all came back to him in that moment, the memory that was lingering there that somehow he had seen things, seen wars that made their fights pale in comparison... but those had never happened.]

I ever find who did this to us, I'm giving them a present. Special delivery from me.

[He might have patted his gun.]

[tarakan]

[ ....classy.

With a little frown, Hilbert scans Vash with his own medical scanner, double-checking the numbers. And yeah, he'll live. He won't enjoy it, but he'll live. So that means Hilbert is perfectly fine judging him.

He looks down at Vash, frown on his face, before, ]

If you come to medical bay tomorrow, I will give you electrolytes. Nothing more. You know what would happen when you drunk that.

[plantussy]

[ The beep of the scanner barely makes Vash react, and it isn't until he hears Hilbert's voice that those bleary blue eyes open. They focus a little, so at least he's not blind. ]

Wazzat?

[ He slurs, barely coherent. ]

Gotta... make it go away. S'bad, doc.

[tarakan]

Whatever you are trying to make go away, getting drunk to ridiculous levels will not work. Congratulations, now you will continue to think about this while also vomiting profusely.

[plantussy]

I know... I... ugh.

[ He can barely move, so said 'vomiting profusely' has to happen on the cafeteria floor. Sorry, little cleaning bots.

Vash is already regretting this. ]

[tarakan]

[ Ew.

Hilbert takes a few steps away from Vash but makes ABSOLUTELY NO ATTEMPT to help him or clean up his barf.

Suffer, buddy. This is your own fault. ]

What were you trying to forget anyway?

[plantussy]

[ That's okay, the cleaning bots are on it!

...they're gonna need a cleanup themselves after this. ]

I have... I have a brother. I saw him...h'killed a whole town. A million blades. Swoosh.

[lastdecember]

[ The doc told him to eat better, and so in the interest of not having to see the doc again Wolfwood's doing him damnedest. Two days in a row now he's come up to the cafeteria and eaten something with protein and fiber and a balance of vitamins and minerals! Synthesized food will enver taste the same as fresh, but he doesn't have fresh as an option, and so it's either lean meat and veg from the box or ration bars.

And after all the trouble they've had with the AI, he's saving the ration bars for a later emergency.

But he's not eating today. He can smell the problem halfway down the hall, and he's already gritting his teeth against the mess he's about to walk into. The damn synthesizer made rotten food, didn't it? Or L3TH3 decided they needed more enrichment so it swapped the flavor profiles of the menu options with the stink of rot and sweat. Hell, maybe it's the waste overflow, overflowing. Whatever it is, it's his job to fix it.

And that statement remains true, even when he steps into the cafetria and sees Saverem, curled up with what Wolfwood can only assume is a puke bucket. ]

Santa Sabina, what the hell did you eat?

[ Hope Baizhu's working, because Wolfwood's going to pick this sick bastard up and haul him down to Medical, stat. ]

[plantussy]

[ Oh. It's Wolfwood. He likes Wolfwood, he's nice behind those sad eyes.

Vash whines loudly has his bucket is taken away and his poor intoxicated body is moved, making big, dramatic grabby hands for it while having the very weak wherewithal to not throw up on his savior. ]

Nooo... my drink. S'awful but it's working...

[ Careful to not jostle him at all, he will make the cleaner bots work overtime. ]

[lastdecember]

[ He is not fucking nice, and he's going to pour that industrial solvent down the nearest drain, just as soon as he gets Saverem here to Medical. Do not puke on him. ]

There's easier ways to kill yourself, you know.

[ God he stinks. This is going to end up a bridal carry -- don't think he's not tempted to throw Saverem over his shoulder, though -- and that means Wolfwood can't help but get a good noseful of the rotten potato reek that's permeated Saverem's whole stupid self. Fucking idiot! ]

What the hell were you thinking?!

[plantussy]

[ Vash is so drunk that he can barely see straight, and Wolfwood is lucky he doesn't decide to throw him over his shoulder - or he'd empty some of that horrible drink in his stomach right down the back of his uniform.

That voice is pretty far away, but he feels pretty comfortable now. Definitely better than the table, and even if the moving is awful to his nausea, the table was kind of moving as well. ]

Kni... Kni was... he killed everyone.

[ He mumbles against a pec. ]

A million knives...

[lastdecember]

[ For all that he's furious and snarling, Wolfwood's doing his best to keep his steps even so he jostles Vash as little as possible. It's not a long walk to Medical, but it's long enough. ]

Oi. [ He's been gruff up until now, but that warning is cold. ] There's some things you don't joke about, I don't care how drunk you are.

[ But Vash is drunk -- stupidly, worthlessly drunk -- and Wolfwood's tone softens almost immediately back to his regular harmless roughness. ]

You had another dream, huh? Sounds like a bad one.

[plantussy]

[ Oh, he doesn't like that cold tone. Vash whines and hides his face against Wolfwood's uniform, the world moving way too quick for him at the moment.

He just wanted his thoughts to not exist for a while. Is that so bad? ]

S'bad.

[ It's hard to hear him now when he's pushed up against a body, but maybe that's intended... and probably drooling or something with how garbled it is.

At least the uniforms are mostly waterproof. ]

SO many blades, Wolfie. So many.

[itdoesntlikeyou]

[It's a perfect day for everyone to just happen to come into the dining hall, isn't it? Rin as a rule doesn't spend much time here, seemingly preferring to collect their meals and retreat with them to another part of the ship rather than eat in public, with the exception of the one holiday party. They've still got to access the synthesizers, though, which pries them up and out of hiding.

But the miserable smell of fermentation and the sharp burn of ethanol stops them dead in the doorway, their nose wrinkling with the assault. Do they want to step in?

... Not really. But Saverem is looking... kind of inert, over there. Worryingly so, even.]

Are you dead?

[plantussy]

[ Vash's reaction to Rin's voice is... well, he just throws a hand up like he's at school during attendance. It flops down just as quickly again, making the bucket wobble slightly and slosh more horrifying potato death on the table. ]

M'alive. S'just... head.

[itdoesntlikeyou]

[Rin pauses by the entrance, just long enough to hit the controls on the lights, bringing the entire space down into something dimmer, the artificial lighting less glaring on the various surfaces in the room. Then they take a cautious few steps further into the room. Nowhere near close enough to catch that bucket if it hits the floor - that's not their job and also it seems like the best possible fate for whatever the fuck Vash made in there. Paint thinner, apparently.]

That's what happens with intoxicants.

[plantussy]

Mmmnn...

[ Vash says coherently, and hugs the bucket closer like it's his only lifeline. ]

Meant... what was in it. S'bad, Rin. Bad brother.

[itdoesntlikeyou]

[They're already looking ready to back towards the door, if it weren't for the fact that Vash looks ready to pass out and do something stupid.

They really ought to pass him off to anyone else - anyone else would probably be better at it than them.]

Do you need a hug or. Something.

[plantussy]

Yes, please.

[ Vash replies, and awkwardly opens his arms while still flopped on the table. Sorry, Rin. He's too drunk to remember that they don't like contact. ]