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.

[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.

[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. ]

[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?