Party
The yacht is, to put it mildly, luxurious. Enough so that, even with Adam's financial resources, the chartering out he does with it is clearly necessary. Above deck, the sun is clear and weather warm, and the breezes fill the sails. Caterers have come and gone, lingering only long enough to set up drinks and finger-foods and the like. Sofas and tables are plentiful, out in the sun on deck or under a canopy as well as below-decks, which is where the food and drinks also are. With no caterers kept on for the party, guests are required to serve themselves, but the liquor is top-shelf, the beers on tap from microbreweries. Below decks are also bathrooms and bedrooms, crisp and luxurious and well-maintained.
The party has been humming for an hour or two now, the yacht skimming along the water as directed by the (emoface crybaby) owner. Hopefully nobody tried to show up after they cast off. Hopefully nobody needs to go home right this second.
Adam is not actually crying. He is spending a lot of time at the till not drinking, however, because he is an excellent, responsible captain. He does not have a hat.
Alden has a drink in his hands, of course, gin and ice wrapped in the cradle of his fingers as he leans against the railing of the boat, wind mussing shaggy blond hair. He's alone in crisp sailing clothing, cream khakis and a blue polo, not wandering around and kissing on anyone this party, not even Ilad. Instead, he seems to be watching the smudge of shore that is long gone.
"You should have a hat," Peter says from where he stands up near Adam with a bottle of beer in hand. It is not his first.
Lori is dressed to fit the luxury. Ironically, it must be admitted, in the color of her upswept hair and expression on her face, but she's dug out jewelry that looks expensive from somewhere, and wears it with a little black dress, cocktail length, and strappy sandals. If anyone needs saving, she can't fly anywhere, guys. She has a glass of something and is not pestering Adam just yet, though she glances over like she's going to go do so soon. She wanders over to Alden. "Wanting to go back already?"
He should have a hat. Zaza has a fine 1920's sort of floppy hat over her messy curls and brilliant smile as the winds off the sea pluck at her sundress. "He should. One with a tiny anchor right at ze front," she agrees, taking a sip of her own beer.
"Tiny anchor probably sewn in gold thread," Peter says with the gleam of a smile in Zaza's direction. He is so jealous. He wants a Ship.
Madrox is looking like he might be having approximately as much fun as Adam. He is in a shirt and tie and dark pants and his hands are secured tight around the railing. He's looking out over the water with a tight expression. Perhaps he is seasick?
Little done to fit in, Gamora is clad in cut-offs, the hem of her plain t-shirt barely missing the waist of her shorts. Red-tinged leather cowboy boots make due in the place of heels, and a beer in hand to complete the picture. She saunters up to Madrox instead of pushing into groups, silent as she takes up a place next to him at the rail. Hi there.
Terry has been drifting from sun to shade, though clearly not often enough if the color of her shoulders is an indication. Dressed in a peacock blue sundress, she is clashing colors and not caring. She's also lost her shoes, though they peek out from under the benchseat she's taken.
"I suppose it is traditional," Adam says, smiling with the practice of one well-versed in smiling at parties despite whatever internal drama is occurring.
Madrox glances at Gamora as she stands next to him, then glances down toward her legs as if to make certain she is wearing pants. Then up to her face. "Good day."
He is going to end up with a Captain's chapeau at his door, just wait. "It'd only make you ever more ze dashing Captain," Zaza assures Adam lightly. As holding her hat in place against the wind is unnecessary for her, she tips her head back towards the sky and smiles. Tall wedges take the place of heels on her feet today, easier to walk on the deck of the ship.
"Already? It's been a long hour," Alden murmurs into his drink, raising it to his lips for a long swallow from the gin. Already, his words shift softly, the blunting edge of liquor to his syllables.
Isabel has made herself comfortable with something fruity and girly and filled with alcohol from the bar, and at present she stands at the railing squinting over the edge into the distance. She's clad casual in cheap flipflops, but she's also donned a smocked strapless dress in vivid colors that splash across the cotton in cheerful stripes and patterns. She holds one hand to shade her eyes, then shifts to push a tangle of hair out of her face. "I'm really wishing already that I'd braided it," she remarks.
Gamora may as well not be, for the length of smooth skin exposed beneath those cut-offs, but she does smile with a quick curve, answering, "It is indeed a good day to plan a boat ride."
"Is it the water or the company?" Lori asks. She's listening to Alden, bit her attention wanders to Zaza. She watches her for a while before she catches herself and looks away.
"Couldn't you just -- braid it now?" Richard replies where he leans against the railing near Isabel, dressed down in khaki shorts and a light, fitted t-shirt. He has a beer in hand, because he is a Man.
"It is a pleasant day," says the Madrox, neutral-like.
"I'd wear a hat if I had a boat like this." Peter leans against whatever surface is most convenient for the purpose, and not likely to accidentally crash things. He casts an envious eye along the lines of the hull.
Oh, well. If they've been out an hour or two, by now, then Belladonna has had time to -lose- her hat, though she doesn't seem terribly distressed by it. (There may have been a crabface over the side of the boat at the time, may.) Her hair is resultantly windblown, her smile broadly bright as she wanders up toward the till, drink in hand. She is not in heels, but the gleaming white of boat shoes that match the crisp white of cuffed shorts; the blue of her blouse matches her eyes, matches the summer-bright sky. "You'd have to make sure you brought an extra,'"
"Did you bring a hair tie for me?" Isabel wonders, turning to lean back against the railing with her elbows hitched atop it. She fixes her smile on Rich, sunny-bright. "Maybe I should see if anyone has a bit of rope or something. They have those on boats, right?"
Alden makes a simple, dismissive noise, his own attention sliding to the point of Lori's interest with a bare curve of his brow upward. Then he glances back to the shore. "I'm sure you have more lovely company to seek out," he offers.
Adam glances over at Peter, perhaps wary of all that covetousness going on. "Well," he says. "Perhaps one day when you have a Ship of your own." He doesn't capitalize the S. I did.
Lori flickers a glance to Zaza. "It's a small ship. I'll get around to everyone," she tells Alden, with a party-smile. It warms to a real one as she laughs at herself.
"Uh." Rich peers at Isabel a bit. "I kind of thought women just always had stuff like that. Maybe you could -- tie it." Yes, Rich. Isabel will just tie her hair.
Zaza's gaze slides from Peter to Adam and back again, a wry smile curving her lips. She takes a sip of her beer and watches in quiet amusement. Boys and their toys.
"Helpful," Isabel opines, lifting her glass for a sip of fruity-and-alcoholic. "Very. Tie my hair in a knot for me and see how long it stays," she suggests. She's only mocking him a /little/ bit.
"You don't sound as if you really think so," Gamora points out, studying Madrox sidelong for a moment before she looks over the gathered agents, mostly unfamiliar.
Peter slants a look back at Adam. He straightens with an expression of overt innocence in response to that wariness, which really ought to just make Adam more suspicious. "She looks high-maintenance, though." His grin angles toward Zaza. What??
"Should I sound more enthusiastic?" Madrox asks, his brow mildly furrowing.
"Uh," Rich says again. He starts eyeing Isabel's hair. "Are you being serious?"
"Most gorgeous women are," Belladonna says, and really it's as much compliment for Adam's boat as it is tease directed at, oh, any number of people on board.
"My hands are full of alcoholic beverage," points out the telekinetic, sweetly. Isabel raises amused brows at Rich.
"Don't get around too much, flower," Alden says with dry humor, again lifting his glass to his lips until the gin is gone. Then he moves off to fill it back up with those as parting words.
Gamora's brow curves upwards and she answers, "I do not know. Should you?"
"She is," Adam agrees, "but I'm certainly not the one to do it." That's what he has money for. Paying people to do things. He glances at Belladonna with a thin smile.
"Are you high-maintenance?" Peter asks Belladonna, Zaza with a glance between them that makes the 'you' plural. "I need a wider survey sample before I can agree with you definitively."
"Nothing. You've just got a little -- zhere." Zaza teases, tapping her own lips to indicate either a spot of drool or an unhinged jaw. "You better be careful, Adam. Pretty boat full of agents? Could be dangerous." The low, mischievous lilt in her voice is purely playful, nose crinkling as she grins. "No. I am very low maintenance."
Lori snorts, and lets Alden go, wending her way over to Adam's knot of people. She slips up to the edge and doesn't join the conversation until she's had a chance to hear some of it.
"It is a day. That it is a day is a fact hardly worth commenting on," Madrox says with his brows still furrowed. "We are also on a boat. I simply do not know what to say about it."
"Um." Richard looks around for someplace to put his beer. Then he holds it out for Isabel to hold.
Isabel breaks into laughter, shaking her head as she promises Rich, "You do not really have to tie my hair up. It's only going to hold for about ten seconds if you do." She extends her hand anyway, though, taking his beer so she looks like a /real/ lush.
"/Terribly/," Belladonna contradicts, eyes bright with the laugh she doesn't quite let loose. "But probably not a much as this beauty." She catches Adam's glance, and lifts her drink in toast.
"Then why did you comment on it?" Gamora questions in quick response, eyeing Madrox suspiciously. She finally takes a slight sip of her beer.
"Well now you've /challenged/ me," Richard says stubbornly as he moves around behind Isabel to eye her hair some more. After a moment of that, he reaches to try and gather it up in one hand before separating it into two sections. He is clearly not one of those guys with little sisters that made him learn this stuff.
"I am not sure what to comment on," Madrox says, rather low-voiced. "Ah. What was your name?"
Terry watches the interplay between Isabel and Rich (cause she's sitting nearish them, so say I) and chuckles, swinging her bare feet just over the deck.
"You're very low maintenance." Someone should tell Peter that it is a bad idea to sound even slightly skeptical of a woman when she says that. He glances between terribly-high-maintenance Belladonna of the flyaway hair and Zaza of the unruffled hat.
"I don't know why it would be," Adam replies to Zaza, frowning. "What exactly are you all intending to do on my yacht?" He looks supremely skeptical of Zaza's claim to low-maintenance.
Eshana has been flitting about the background since cast-off, turning up here and there and poking at things with gently unrestrained curiosity. -She- is neither casual 'nor glam, inhabiting a comfy, beach-dwelling middle that features a pretty white straw sunhat with a wide brim, and a navy cotton sundress with chipper little polka-dots. Her hair is back in a single braid in deference to the wind as she pops up at Belladonna's shoulder. "I think you're more high-maintenance than -me-," she notes. "But that's because you actually have a fashion sense. Um. If we're still determining that."
"By speaking plain truth about a subject on which you have no expertise?" Isabel asks, brows arching with bright amusement before she turns slightly to give him better access and catches Terry's watching gaze. She answers it with a grin, a little too bright, a little too giddy.
"Gamora. Gamora Long," is introduced with a seriousness that does not invoke James Bond at all. Gamora takes a moment before asking, "Who are you?"
"I am Jamie Madrox," says the Madrox, and after a half-beat, "Or at least one of him. Pleased to meet you."
"Yes. Zhat one has ze champagne tastes." Zaza points towards Belladonna with a laugh, remaining more or less unruffled by the wind. She takes a sip of her drink, smiling innocently at the two men. She is totally low-maintenance. Wut. "Nothing Adam. I am just teasing," she assures of his boat's safety with a soft smile.
As Alden fills his drink, he glares, a subtle, squinty dark thing. At Rich and Isabel, at Terry. He turns away sharply when he has his drink, however, moving to wander down into the rooms below instead of lingering on the deck with giddy displays.
"Uh-huh," Lori also say of low-maintenance Zaza. She tugs at the woman's hat, just to see if she can disturb it.
Terry returns the grin and leans to get a better view of what Rich is doing back there. She looks back at Isabel and shakes her head. You don't want to know.
The hat comes off with a squeak of surprise from its owner. It isn't pinned in place or anything. "I /am/ low-maintenance. I'm self-maintaining. Now, give me back my hat," Zaza demands with a laugh, reaching for the article in question.
Rich is an amazing hair stylist, guys. He is a /professional/. That is why he is taking those two sections of hair and -- literally trying to tie them. This works excellently on hair, right?
"A pleasure," Gamora remarks with a nod, shifting against the railing to have a better view of the party proper. This time, her gaze lingers on those she knows somewhat, Richard then Peter. "Do they often do this?"
"Don't worry," Adam tells the assembled women with mild, subdued humor. "You are all significantly less high-maintenance than most of the women I've known in my life."
"High, medium, low?" Peter one-two-threes to Belladonna, Eshana, and Zaza in turn. "Okay." He looks like he might add something more, but he laughs at Zaza's answer and then turns to Adam to ask something moderately technical, blah blah blah. BOATS. SHIPS.
Madrox turns half-around to monitor the party as well. "Sail on boats?"
Adam answers back, blah blah blah. BOATS. SHIPS.
Isabel's grin at Terry breaks into laughter (thankfully missing Alden's glare), and she sneaks telekinesis back to check on his work. "Oh," she says. "/Oh/, Rich." And then she collapses into giggles.
"Some things you're born with," Belladonna says, with a crinkle of her slightly-sunburnt nose at Peter in confirmation, "and some things you have drilled into your brain from birth," as her smile tips into genuine warmth for Eshana.
"Throw parties, I suppose," Gamora corrects herself simply.
"Low," Eshana answers Peter with a bubble of a laugh and a hand taking in the simplicity of her sundress. She probably came on board with sandals. They appear to have disappeared somewhere. "You've -seen- what I wear in the Hub, right?"
"Yes," says Madrox. "I don't altogether understand why."
Lori tries Zaza's hat on for size. "Thank God," she answers Adam's comment about being low in comparison. "Though I guess that's not hard."
"There's the casual that comes naturally, and the casual that one cultivate very carefully," Peter counters Eshana with an easy manner. "I'd hate to mistake one for the other. Better to check."
"I'm still working!" Rich says defensively as he feels the ghost of Isabel's teke across his fingers to check on her hair. He tries knotting in a different way. Maybe he /was/ a boy scout.
"It seems like a flimsy excuse to drink and flirt to me," Gamora answers mildly as she takes in the pockets of laughter within groups and the drinks in everyone's hands. Her own not excluded.
"You do know she will kill you come time to be trying to get those /out/," Terry opiniates from the sidelines.
"Yes," Madrox says. "It is an excuse. To get, mmm, hammered and find someone to spend the night with."
"Doing /what/?" Isabel asks, dancing teke across his fingers like a coin across his knuckles. She grins at Terry and shakes her head just slightly (impeding Rich's work in the process) as she says, "I'm betting him it won't stay in more than thirty seconds."
The hat is large and floppy on Lori. Ridiculous. "Some things are Mabelline," Zaza says, chorusing the catchphrase back at Belladonna. Sipping her beer, she smiles at Lori. "You know what? You can keep zhat. It looks good on you."
"Not particularly, no," Adam admits in turn to Lori. "But it is the bar I have to measure by, hm?" Smile a bit tight, he continues, "Better to be high-maintenance and admit it than be high-maintenance and deny it, really."
Gamora only takes a moment before asking, "Have you found someone yet, then?" Sorry, she doesn't know that Madrox is all spoken for by absent speedsters.
"I do not participate in such frivolities. I assume," Madrox says, a little loftily, "that if you are asking, you also have no interest in such frivolities?"
"-Safer- to check, anyways," Eshana opines, dark eyes a-twinkle. "Unless one of the women you were just quizzing was trying to be mysterious and hoping you'd try to figure it out... and I feel like my hand is a little empty," she segues, glancing around the various drinks. "Anything recommended?" she queries at large.
"I'm as frivolous as they get," Gamora answers with a shrug of her shoulder, her gaze flicking sideways to Madrox instead of continuing to watch the party.
Peter glances at Belladonna and Zaza in a double-check. Were you trying to be mysterious? "Ah, no," he says to Eshana, and then lifts his bottle with label turned out for her study. "Beer drinker? This is good." I assume. Since Adam bought.
"You do not seem it. Exactly," says Madrox. Wee dubious.
"Well if we're /betting/ now," Richard says, growing more determined in the face of all the DOUBTERS. "What /are/ we betting?"
"Speaking of maintenence," Belladonna says as she extracts herself from the knot of agents. She taps a finger against the bridge of her nose, and then sweeps it in a brief point toward the back of her neck -- then laughs, bright. "Not mysterious, no," she adds, for all her tapping and pointing, then slips off down belowdecks.
"What do you like?" Adam asks Eshana, easily shifting into host mode. Of course the beer is good. IT'S ALL GOOD.
Lips pulled into a smirk, Zaza tips her shoulder in a lop-sided shrug and laughs. "I'm not very good at mysterious." She takes another drink of her beer.
"Just wait until I take out my floppy hat to wear around in the wind," is assured with low words to Madrox as Gamora's lips slip sharply into a brief smile. "I just don't bother to flirt to find someone for the night."
"Depends on how motivated he gets by the challenge," Terry says, lifting her brows and waggling them. "Maybe she can be tying /your/ hair into knots?"
Lori makes a face like she knows damn well the hat looks ridiculous on her. She tilts it to a more rakish angle, then takes it off to just hold it. She sips her own drink.
Jacob's been quiet since getting on the boat. He's not the best at the party scene. He seems content to watch the crowds for a while, having arrived with Brielle, he looks to her with a grin. "You going to introduce me to the people you know? I'm guessing you know more people than I do?" He offers an arm and a smile to Bri.
"I dunno," Isabel answers, eyes flicking to Terry for help. "I mean. I'm not sure you have anything I actually /want/." She twists his beer bottle by the neck and gives Terry another grin. Halfway through her second drink, they don't come with blushes today.
"Floppy hat," Madrox repeats with a blink. "Well. I suppose one way or the other, we are equals in not bothering."
"I'm sure you could get better at it with practice," Peter mock-assures Zaza with a halved (mysterious!) smile.
"I am going to throw you overboard," Richard warns Isabel. "And I don't have enough hair to tie into knots." Knotknotknot. (This is not working.)
"Probably," Zaza quips in return with a pretty bat of lashes. "But really? Zhat seems like more work zhan it is /worth/."
"Spoken like a man facing defeat." Terry lifts her own bottle from the seat next to her and tips the neck in Isabel's direction.
"Do you want to not bother together, then?" Gamora proposes bluntly.
"Coffee, usually," says Eshana to Adam with a self-deprecating little smile. "Aside from ridiculously girly things that come in bottles and seem a little, um, declasse for the current setting. What would the captain be having, if he was drinking? Peter's beer?"
Brielle on the other hand, has been fascinated by studying the boat thoroughly. And being responsible by making sure no one is getting seasick and the like and leaving them unattended. She narrows her eyes faintly. " I actually only know a couple, and not terribly well. Two I know of, one I know. I was gone a while, you know." A drink is chilling her hand as she plunges on ahead anyhow towards the one face she /does/ know from prior association, and the group hanging out around Terry.
"And you are low maintenance," Peter says with an 'ah hah' in his voice. He has discovered the secret.
Madrox tilts his head almost suspiciously, then lifts a shoulder. "Certainly. We might as well."
"You're not going to throw me overboard," Isabel states confidently. "And I have /masses/ of hair." It's true. Rich is currently working his way through hair both long and thick in addition to wavily unruly thanks to the breeze. "You'd think if he was this determined to win, he'd name a decent bet then," she answers Terry. She winces slightly as a knot tugs her hair a bit too much. "/Ow/," she says, accusing. "Pulling it all out doesn't count as winning!"
Lori toasts Adam while she's here, hands Zaza back her hat, and then wanders off somewhere to watch the water go by--or more likely--explore the inner metal bits of the boat with her senses.
"I can't drink and navigate the ship," Adam tells Eshana with firm high-horse morality. "It's illegal. But there are plenty of ingredients for mixed drinks if you want something sweet."
At the agreement, Gamora steps forward only to slip fingers in a curve over Madrox's wrist before moving to lead him off to below-deck. "I think he has bedrooms downstairs," she recalls.
"See, there you go. I am an open book, Peter," Zaza assures with a twitch of a smile. It grows into something more genuine as Lori resettles her hand on her head. She raises her beer in salute.
"Hence if he -was- drinking," Eshana addresses the high horse with a crooked smile. "But I suppose I can engage in some alcoholic mad science. Got any dry ice?"
Madrox takes two what?? steps before coming to a halt. "Wait. Wait a moment - " He tries to pull his hand back.
Peter glaaaaaances back at Eshana with a natural flare of curiosity. "Alcoholic mad science?"
Terry winces in the sympathy of one long, wavey tressed girl to another. "Told you she would be killing you," she singsongs, then takes a sip. Her attention is caught by the other pair heading in their direction, and she nods at the newcomers.
"Sorry!" Richard says immediately. He catches sight of Gamora as she starts to go by with Madrox in tow -- or, more accurately, he catches sight of her legs or cleavage or just her bare skin in general -- and promptly loses his grip on Isabel's hair and lets it all spill out in his distraction.
"Wait /what/?" Gamora asks with annoyed impatience, the grip of her fingers tightening into Madrox's skin briefly before she finally lets go. Ok, fine.
"I had no idea that was a sexual invitation!" Madrox protests.
:tips her head forward as Rich's distract looses hair in a sudden cloud around her face, and she's in the process of turning to object, "Hey! Are you seriously giving up that easil--" before she catches the line of his gaze and shoots a glance between Gamora and Rich with what can only be described as a scowl. She shoves his beer at his chest and grumps off toward Terry. "Most men need killing," she opines to her.
That'd be Isabel.
"Ah -- no," Adam says, with a bit of off-kilter apology in his voice, like -- it is polite to apologize, but what? "I do not believe we have any dry ice."
Laughing Jacob looks at Bri. "Well that's fair enough, seems we're even then." He nods to Terry. "Hey."
Brielle pauses briefly, at overhearing Jamie's protest, brows lifting before she's glancing at Terry. "Nice to know the parties are still so interesting."
"Is zhere any time you aren't considering mad science of some sort?" Zaza wonders of Eshana, flashing her a warm smile.
The housekeeper arrives to cart Lori off to bed.
"What!" Richard protests at his beer is shoved back in his face and Isabel storms off. "I didn't--" His baffles after her in the way only a particularly stupid guy can when presented with an upset female he doesn't understand.
"That's unfortunate. I'll have to order some for the next part--" Eshana's abstracted consideration is interrupted by Madrox's protest, and her head jerks up in startlement. One hand lifted to steady her sun hat, she treats Zaza and Peter to a playful moue from beneath it. "I can consider a lot of things at once. Mad science is merely a favoured pastime... and would you two be volunteering, then?"
Terry's mouth falls open and she kind of gives Iz a 'Wait... What?' look. "It does seem to be a common need," she agrees, then glances at Jacob. TAKE NOTE of what /not/ to do, boyo. "Some things never change," she sighs and shrugs at Brielle.
Isabel slides down to sit next to Terry - which isn't /quite/ abandoning Rich, given the few feet between them, but still. She dangles her legs over the edge and tips her head back, squinting again, to look up at his baffled face. With a resigned sigh, she takes pity and says, "You let go, you forfeit. You did it before we named a bet, so you better decide on something awesome to give me."
"Fine," Gamora says flatly, attention staying on Madrox for only a moment as if she expects him to change his mind. "Have a nice party."
"You look lovely, Terry. Speaking of things that never change." Bri offers before she's distracted and looking around at the unfamiliar faces.
"Yes. A wonderful party." Madrox wipes off his hands on the side of his pants. "Yes - have a - /good day/." He turns back toward the railing, flustery.
Peter's attention is caught more by poor Richard's misunderstanding (and object of distraction) than Madrox's protest. His response to Eshana is a trifle belated: "Absolutely, as long as I don't lose any more body parts."
"I only request that you don't perform any explosive experiments on my property," Adam requests, just the slightest bit pained.
Zaza follows Eshana's turn towards Madrox, looking over her shoulder as Gamora moves away. Ah. She tips her head back to Eshana with a smile, "As long as it is an experiment involving booze and nothing else."
Gamora raises her beer to her lips, not looking the least bit awkward to be abandoned in the middle of the yacht. She doesn't even bother to move away and find a rail out of the way.
"Yeah, sure," Rich tells Isabel. "I'll think of something. Or you think of something." He edges off a bit, and then, as if he's being sneaky, slides over to where Gamora stands abandoned. "Hey," he greets her with a smile.
"Go raibh maith agat," Terry replies to Brielle, her smile welcoming, if still a bit distracted by the Gamora-goings-on. "He should play cabana boy for the rest of the party," she asides to Iz with a little lean and a speciulative glance at Rich.
"-Adam-," says Eshana with a shake of her head as she sidles for the bar. "I'm a neuropharmacologist, not a pyrotechnician." With that rather polysyllabic riff off of Dr. McCoy accomplished, she busies herself by collecting various coloured liqueurs on the basis, apparently, of 'this looks neat'.
Isabel looks a little too grouchy as Rich abandons her to take Terry's suggestion in good nature. She tips her cup back for a long swallow before she finally allows, "Sure, why not. Make the rounds."
"I speak German, not Irish." Bri laughs, brought back to the redhead. "You've met Edwards, right?" Gesturing, before she's glancing over at Isabel. "Hello."
"You are going to make someone sick," Adam half-warns and half-worries as Eshana starts gathering liquids.
"Not a bartender, either," Peter asides to Zaza as he awaits judgment with a note of mock-trepidation in his voice.
Jacob seems amused as he listens to Richards situation and possible fate. He turns his attention to Bri and then to Terry. "We've met." He smiles to Terry as he speaks. "You've been well I hope?"
"Hello, Richard," Gamora greets with a tip of her chin, smile slight when it appears briefly before disappearing. "It looks like you may be in trouble." This said as she catches Isabel's expression, gaze sliding back to Adam.
"No, our bartender just ambled belong deck," Zaza stage whispers conspiratorially in return to Peter. She nudges him lightly with her elbow, chuckling warmly. "Speaking of. I am going to slip below deck for a moment. Pardon me." She flashes a smile to those gathered in their like conversational niche, slipping off into the crowd.
"Danke, then," Terry switches easily, nodding again toward Jacob. "Let me know when you want to set up that sparring session," she says, her accent a warm burr in her throat. She sideglances Isabel, and continues to watch the unfolding Richard drama. "I thought that sort of thing only happened in the cartoons."
"How's it going?" Rich asks Gamora, a bit obliviously over-eager. "Rich is fine." His brow furrows at her last words, and he follows her glance back to Isabel. "What?"
The mention of making someone ill catches Bri's ear, a glance towards Adam and Eshana, again noting the smaller woman before her attention moves back to the whole fun unfolding of drama!
"Is that your girlfriend, Rich?" Gamora questions instead of answering, the tip of her beer pointed towards Isabel to clarify what she's talking about.
"Alcohol," Eshana informs Peter and Peanut Gallery (Alas, there is no easy 'p' synonym for the last word.) as she studies the bottles' labels and alcohol percentages "Was the first instance of applied neuropharmacology. I solemnly swear not to implode anyone's liver, even if Isabel would likely make these a lot better." With that, she sniffs speculatively at something red, and whips out a smart phone to... yes, Dr. Anand is looking up the specific gravity online.
Madrox is back on the railing, stiff-backed and isolated-cranky. Maybe we should send a ~fun~ dupe next time.
"Hey," Isabel answers, squinting upward at the paired Brielle and Jacob. "Whoa. We have a lot of new people lately, huh?" That in aside to Terry before she names, "Brielle I remember. Sort've. So you--" She fixes on Jacob with particular interest. "--must be Jacob with the reflexes, yeah?"
"Nice," Peter approves of Eshana's nerd and then waits patiently for the results.
"What?" Rich says again, looking back at Gamora. "Iz? I just met her a week ago. We're friends."
Even Adam smiles the smallest bit at Eshana's methods.
"I was leaving as you came in, so there wasn't much time to get to know." Bri agrees with Isabel, before she's glancing at Jacob with her mouth forming a smirk.
"I see. She seems upset that you've left her," Gamora points out with a curious look between Rich and Isabel before seeming to accept the explanation with a shrug.
Whatever Eshana finds pleases her, for she beams across at Peter before commencing with the creation of two layered shots, one in red, white and blue and one in red, white and red. "There," she says as the last red layer is carefully poured in place. "Patriotism."
Adam's smile warms a bit at Eshana's end result. "Very patriotic," he agrees. "Who is going to test it for you?"
"Must be that time o' year," Terry agrees, tipping the end of her bottle up and draining it.
Nodding Jacob grins. "I'm in the gym often enough. I head down most mornings and a couple of afternoons a week, so take your pick." He turns his attention turns to Isabel with a slow nod. "Yeah, I'm Jacob Edwards."
Peter's approval comes with a laugh: "Good thing they were easy colors."
"Probably better that way," Isabel acknowledges with a dry twist of her lips. Maybe the alcohol in her hand is making her even more bluntly honest than usual. "I'm much more awesome now." She tucks hair behind her ear in a vain attempt to keep it under control, and the wind snatches it away again almost instantly. "Bet Jean-Paul's gonna love tangling with you. Settling in and all that good stuff?"
"Really?" Rich seems a bit baffled by Gamora's claim. "She seems fine. She's just talking to those other folks."
"Well, a proper test requires more subjects than just two," Eshana points out to Adam, hand hovering over an empty shot glass. "Maybe I'll have to drag you into it once we're back ashore, hm?" But the hand settles over the red-white-and-blue instead and holds it out to Peter with a playful crinkle of her nose. "I'd get more creative, but we have no dry ice."
Brielle arches an eyebrow. "More awesome is always good." She glances over at Jacob at the mention of JP, a brief grin. "Excuse me a moment." She says, before she's making the trip towards Eshana and those around her.
"One day you'll have to show me what you can do with dry ice." Peter takes the glass from Eshana with humor marked at the edges of his eyes; it sliders slower over his lips as he lifts the shot to her in a salute. "Excellently done. Thank you." And then he kicks it back. He must trust her so. I hope she isn't an al-S plant.
TRIPLE AGENT? Say it ain't so. Adam watches Peter kick back the drink with raised brows.
Terry snickers and looks over at Isabel. "Like wine? Getting better as you age?" she teases lightly, then looks back at Jacob and Brielle's back.
Gamora's gaze slides over Isabel once more as if considering that, nodding simply in agreement to Richard. Then her attention sweeps along, joining Adam's to watch Peter drink, though it is slightly more thoughtful than dubious. "Are you enjoying yourself?" she questions aside to Rich.
Eshana has to find -something- to do with all that time you know. She colours at the humour, although dusky skin and the swooped shade of her sunhat mute it somewhat. She's at least poisoned her own glass and taken the antidote if there's games afoot, though, for she laughs, lifts the Canadian Patriotism and with a toast knocks it back too. "Augh," she says, a hand lifting to one temple. "Too much with the cinnamon schnapps."
"Yeah, sure," Rich replies, resettling his attention more squarely on Gamora now that he's assured himself that he has totally not pissed off Iz, what? His humor is a little warm-wry when he asks, "You settling in all right?"
Peter, obviously aware of all this scrutiny, swallows the shot like a /man/ -- probably a man who has had a lot worse alcohol than this, and by that we mean it is is delicious Eshana, thanks. He can't help but huff a brief cough, though; don't judge him. "Just enough," he counter-teases.
Adam does not judge. He is a gentleman. "Congratulations," he tells Peter and Eshana dryly. "You have consumed shots."
"Don't worry, Adam," Eshana says, dryly for all that she's still teared up a little at the corners of her eyes. "I didn't take my top off and run around yelling 'woo' when I -was- a college student."
"I'm settling in fine, for all it seems as if the rest are upset over this Evinger thing," Gamora answers mildly, sipping at her beer and still not bothering to move.
Bri can't help a chuckle at Eshana's proclamation of too much cinnamon. "I am curious to how many flags you could mock up with shots now, I admit." Eyes glance to the smaller Eshana, then to Adam and Peter, before Eshana's dry statement makes her actually laugh behind a chuckle.
"Better than the other option," Isabel answers Terry with a grim edge and a matching smile as she lifts her drink in a toast.
Jacob shrugs a shoulder. "It's going well enough. I've read what I need to. And like what I've seen so far. Can't say we've met, but I'm looking forward to getting regular sparring in again." He sips his beer before turning his own attention towards the goings on at the bar. He grins a little. "If you'll excuse me." He's making his way over to where the drinking games are taking place. It could be time to show off the fast metabolism.
"Yeah," Richard agrees, not quite baffled, but clearly -- recognizing his new status in the organization. "I guess this is a big shake-up for them. I mean -- I'm pretty used to working within the law already. I don't know."
"Probably quite a few," Eshana answers consideringly, and pats her iPhone fondly. "There's a surprising number of websites devoted to the specific gravity of various liquors and spirits. Are there any requests?"
Terry blinks, then blinks again at Isabel. "Did I forget to put m' deodorant on this morning?" she asks.
"Any that are blocks of color, I'd imagine," Adam says. "Or you could reference color schemes, at the very least."
"Actually, I just wanted to socialize a bit. And not bring up work at the party, but ask you specifically, Dr. Anand, to email me when we're not having fun drinking games." Brielle manages. "Though I am wondering now what would work for Germany."
Peter, obviously overcome like a little lady by the shot, falls back to allow others to marvel at Eshana's magic. He goes ... somewhere else, maybe to find out where Adam put the title and scribble in his name on top.
"I don't think you're the one chasing them off," Isabel answers with self-deprecating humor. She gives Terry a wistful smile and then leans forward to peer down at the water below. "You think there are dolphins out here?"
"The law really makes no difference to me, but so much paperwork seems annoying," Gamora says before she steps forward to the other group with the request. Her gaze slides briefly over Peter before settling on Eshana with a challengingly, "Anything you want to make."
Tom found a railing to lean on to watch the water go by, body propped at an angle to bend a little too far over the side to watch the prow of the yacht cutting cleanly through the water. After he accidentally dislodges his sunglasses and fails to catch them with a couple of totally spastic-looking grabs at the air, though, they plonk into the water with a splash. Scowling, he straightens away from the rail all bruised dignity.
"If not, I am reasonably sure there are supposed to be sea otters." Terry crawls up on her knees and leans against the edge to peer down too. And sees a pair of sunglasses float by. Hnh.
"Kind of the nature of the beast," Rich replies, only to have Gamora wander off towards the promise of colored alcohol. He glances around, all abandoned by the pretty girl, and catches poor Tom flailing and failing. "That sucks," he says sympathetically.
"I'd settle for sea otters," Isabel answers. She twists her head, watching the passing of sunglasses without the helpfully logical thought to snatch them up with teke and says instead, "Wonder whose those were."
"Bite me," Tom crotcheties on the discovery that his sunglasses failure has been witnessed by other human souls. He shoves his hands in his pockets.
Ilad emerges from belowdecks eventually, moving with a careful kind of steadiness that suggests -- well, he can't be drunk, since nobody has seen him drink anything, but he must be overcompensating for something. He finds a sofa and sits on it, likewise slow with his expression hued mutedly frownish as he folds his hands in his lap, not molesting anyone. Maybe later.
"No thanks," Rich replies cheerily enough as he wanders to a more companionable distance to Tom. "Hope they weren't expensive."
Adam does not look at Ilad when he emerges from belowdecks. He does not look in a very purposeful manner. He /enjoys his party/. "I'm sure someone could manage," he says of the discussion of alcoholic German flags.
"I suppose that answers /that/ question," Terry murmurs, looking over in Tom's direction. She pushes away from the rail and slides off the bench to root around around it for her flipflops.
"Who cares," Tom grouches some more. He settles his weight back on his heels and tips his glance up at Richie as though finding something to be skeptical about in his cheery amiability. "I am pretty sure I can afford more sunglasses. They aren't plutonium."
"Oh," says Isabel, turning her gaze after Terry's to catch sight of Tom. Now she sounds a little distraught as realization sets in belatedly and she scrambles to her feet. How long is this boat? How fast is it going? She can /totally catch those sunglasses, right/? "Oh shit!" she adds, and takes off down the length of the deck.
"If I had a transfer pipette, and just the right blend of drinks I bet I could do patterns," Eshana reflects consideringly, momentarily lost in a reverie of alcoholic and scientific artistry. "Maybe with a straw..." She bustles and rummages and once again resorts to the iPhone. Whatever she finds leaves her fluttering about even more happily. People didn't want their drinks -fast-, right? But she seems content, in any case, as she layers in red, then white, then a very small layer of blue and then takes a -different- bottle of white and attempts to see if she can dot dots of it onto the blue with a straw. It doesn't go terribly -well-, but when she caps it off with a different bottle of blue it's at least got an attempt at sad, deformed white blotches on a blue field that might be stars that have been run through a black hole? "...Yeah," she says. "So. Um. German flag? Simple? And sure, Brielle."
Grinning al ittle Jacob seems to give that some thought. "So, is anyone else thinking a world tour fo drinking?" He chuckles a little. "Right now though I'm thinking something with a little kick to it."
Eventually, Xen appears from below decks too after exploring the yacht, well after Ilad's appearance, and with a glass of scotch he must have gotten a while ago. He turns from glancing at the back of the boat, and suddenly pulls up short as Iz pelts right at him. The hands go up, drink and glass disappearing off the side of the boat into the water as the pilot braces for sudden impact. "Oh, sh--!!" is all he can say.
"Well, that's good," Rich agrees, oblivious of Tom's skepticism. "I try not to take out my plutonium sunglasses in public. Always sucks to lose those."
Great timing. /Fantastic/ timing. Isabel's going too blindly fast to pull a quick stop as Xen appears, and while he braces for (and can easily absorb) impact, Isabel-- does not. She ricochets off Xen in a sideways stumble, catches herself on the railing, and then somehow finds that 'caught' actually means 'on the way over' as she tips far enough to end up plummeting toward the waves with what we can only label, I'm afraid, a very girly shriek.
Tom gives Rich a look, though the worst edge of frown is fading from his expression to be replaced by a better humor. There are only so many stormclouds at this party. He opens his mouth to say something, and then startles at the commotion up the deck, turning toward the sound with the beginnings of a "What the fuck--" coming from his mouth.
Terry stomp slides after Iz, trying to get her second flipflop on while remaining curious about what has the other woman taking off down the boat. And into Xen. "SWEET JAYZUS!" she swears, stopping so fast she has to catch herself on the railing. "Uh... uh... MAN OVERBOARD!" That's the thing to say, yeah?
Ignored for the possibility of drinks, Gamora instead turns at the noise to watch the woman go over the railing. She's surprisingly mild in response, though a furrow appears lightly between her brows. She doesn't move to rescue.
Brielle starts, before she's running towards the railing to get a better look. There are people better suited to rescuing Isabel, she is painfully aware.
Xen recoils from the sudden impact of a speeding Isabel without his mutation flaring to life, rocking him back a few steps with the rolling of the boat. There's a moment where he makes noises of strangled startlement, his hands reaching out to try and grab Isabel as she topples over the railing. No such luck, but he looks funny grabbing at the air!
Jacob reacts quickly turns to the shriek. He's moving when Terry shouts, his first thought is that the boat should have equipment for such things. Diving in very rarely helps with such matters, simply resulting in two people stuck over board.
"Oh no--" says Eshana, too far away and too short to see what's going on. She puts down the alcohol and looks vaguely guilty and vaguely worried all at once, as if somehow her paying attention to drink mixing as caused someone to fall off the boat. "Who is it? Is there a life ring?" It is not very dignified to hop up and down to try and get a better view. Nonetheless, she hops.
"What--" Richard's head snaps over to the sound of Terry's call and then the sight of Xen grasping vainly at air. "Who--" He rushes over to the railing where Xen is failing to rescue the damsel to try. Then he pulls off his shirt with one quick pull of fabric, balances on the railing for a cheatery second, and dives in after Isabel. Because flying down doesn't get him as wet.
Isabel is, at least, a fairly strong swimmer. She appears above water with a splashing sputter and a gasp for breath. The constant buffeting of waves and the weight of her dress pull her under once or twice more.
Adam looks kind of horrified that someone /fell off of his boat/. How do you stop a sailboat I don't even know. Maybe he works on doing that? Maybe he works on turning. WHATEVER THE PROPER BOATING PROCEDURE IS.
Alden would try to rescue you, but he's below-deck, Isabel.
Startled out of some inward distraction that probably has to do with the faint greenish tinge that still lingers beneath the golden olive cast of his skin, Ilad straightens in his seat on the sofa and starts to his feet.
Another curse spat beneath his breath, Tom jerks into motion in Richard's wake, thumping over the deck toward the general cluster of people thronging the railing as the older man strips down and hurtles into the water. He grips the railing and stares over it, eyebrows swept high over his eyes; shields dropped, he tracks both of their locations simultaneously like this will accomplish something and tells Iz helpfully, << Hold on, Pez! >> To what, he doesn't make clear.
Isabel doesn't have enough breath to cough, but she does have enough presence of mind to return a semi-panicked, << TOM! >> as she splashes her way to the surface again and again. In truly practical fashion, she's clamped one hand across her chest, holding the elastic'd cotton top to her.
Maybe Rich starts off by swimming, but that soon proves to be a dumb way to do it. Instead, he skims along the surface of the water until he reaches Isabel and scoops her up in his arms to hug her securely to his chest. He zips back up and over the railing of the boat to settle back onto his feet on the dock. "You okay?" he asks Iz, brow knit in concern as he drips water all over the dock.
Terry has done her part, announcing to everyone Iz has gone over. So she stands at the rail and watches along with everyone else. At least until a second after they're back on the boat. She spins and starts looking around for... "Towels?!" she shouts at Adam.
Satisfied that duty has been done for the damsel in distress, Ilad folds himself back down on the sofa again and rubs at one eye with the heel of his hand.
Failing to rescue Isabel /before/ she can go overboard, Xen turns to look for a life ring topside on the deck. He takes the few steps to grab it while Adam plays with the boat to try and get it to stop before he moves quickly to the back railing. Of course, that's the time at which Rich brings her back aboard. "Everyone alright?" he asks either Rich or Iz, turning his head at Terry's call for towels.
Jacob has the rescue ring and is on his way to jump in, when Rich begins to head for her, saving him from a dip.
<< Rider's got you, >> Tom tells Isabel unnecessarily, though let's assume he does that sometime as Richard is scooping her up, not /afterwards/ when they are all on the deck. Look, speed of thought OK.
Brielle can't seem to stop reflexes, powers set to roam to check on Iz's biosigns more than Rich's but over them both. Once she's assured herself there's no serious danger, she'll go back to ignoring the readings.
Eshana flutters, hands grabbing at a bar towel in lieu of being in a position to do something useful. "Adam," she asks the captain at his sailing. "Do you keep any changes of clothes on board?"
At the sounds of screeches and shouts, Alden reappears above deck with the smell of marijuana sickly sweet in his clothing. Maybe he was treating seasickness. Only seeing a wet Isabel in a wet Richard's arms, he tightens before slipping through the crowd towards Ilad. "What happened?" he questions lowly as he takes a seat next to him, a foot tucked under himself.
"Ah--" Can sailboats go on autopilot? Idk Adam does boaty things so that leaving the till doesn't crash them all. Maybe he yells for Peter to come back and take it. "Towels, yes," he says, moving towards belowdecks. "Clothes--" He moves past Alden with barely a ripple, though there is perhaps the slightest tensing as he catches a whiff of him on his way by.
Just to be helpful, Isabel's first reaction is to kick at him in panicked struggle. It's not til Tom's voice clarifies in her head that she relaxes and maybe, perhaps, clings just a little. Or a lot. She's still /clad/ when Rich deposits her on deck, but that's not saying a great deal given the thin summery cotton of her dress. It clings to wet skin, hiking well up her thigh and threatening to sink down in the front. Her bio signs are well enough, if still a little panicky as she coughs seawater free and scrubs a hand over her face. Eventually she answers to everyone a muttered, embarrassed, "I'm peachy."
"Are you sure?" Richard presses, apparently reluctant to put Isabel down in case she /faints/ or /swoons/ or something. Or maybe he just doesn't notice that he's still holding her.
Ilad greets Alden with a slight inclination of his head, dipping towards him where he sits despite the hazards of the strong scent and a still uncertain stomach. He summarizes, "Isabel fell from the boat. Richard effected a rescue."
Terry clatters down behind Adam, trying to help but probably mostly getting in the way.
"Did anyone see if there was tea or coffee around here?" Eshana wonders of anyone still in earshot as she pokes around in search of it herself. "How cold is that water right now?"
Adam is already belowdecks, or he would answer poor Eshana. Most of the consumables -- both alcoholic and otherwise -- are belowdecks, anyways.
While Xen watches Adam and Terry clatter belowdecks to go get towels, or clothes, or-- something, he turns back to Isabel and Richard, still dripping wet. "I would suggest getting below decks and out of the wind until you can dry off. Rutledge is looking for towels, maybe some spare clothes." Helpfully, he still has a life ring in his off hand. Anyone need it? Maybe for Tom's sunglasses?
"Bloody brilliant for them," Alden murmurs, shifting closer with a trail of his gaze after Adam that distracts him from others for a moment. "Do you feel any better?" The question is asked softly as well, fingers curling subtly against Ilad's thigh with only a slight pressure against him.
As if in time to Eshana's question, Isabel shivers, and her arms are prickled with goosebumps. Well. It's September. But this is the Pacific. For a moment Isabel remains very still in Rich's arms and closes her eyes. If she closes her eyes, all these people hovering and staring at her will go away, right? Poof! Power of Isabel-thinking. "Peachy," she repeats in a low echo for Rich.
"It's all -alcohol-," Eshana says of the bar, before she too vanishes for down below and where she spotted a galley during her earlier boat-snoopery. "I'm getting her a hot drink!"
Tom doesn't precisely shoulder through the rest of everybody to get closer to Isabel and Richard, for all that they are pretty central in his attention. Still, having a telepath ride along in your head is occasionally convenient for the power of positive thinking? "Okay guys," he says, raising his voice and making a kind of dorky shooing gesture. "Show's over. Everybody's back aboard."
"Oh," Richard says to Xen's suggestion. "Right." He starts off, Isabel still in his arms, for the belowdecks in question. I'm sorry, did you want to walk, Isabel?
Adam, meanwhile, has successfully collected towels with Terry. What he has not successfully collected is clothing. At least the towels are high thread-count? Let's say he gives the towels to Terry to take to Isabel and continues to search around for anything clothing-like. There is also tea /and/ coffee for Eshana to find. Maybe even hot chocolate!
Brielle smiles at Jacob, completely not staring. "At least the gatherings are never boring."
Ilad sits quite still on the sofa. Glance sliding toward the entrance to below through which a lot of people have recently departed, he shakes his head slightly, but answers in the affirmative. "Some, yes," he confirms. Dark eyes focusing on Alden's features, he quirks his eyebrows together, not quite asking a question.
FLAP FLAP FLAP. Terry shakes the towels out over her arms and she slaps up the galley steps and back out onto deck. She ignores Tom's shooing in order to hand over a few sets of towels each.
Nodding Jacob seems happy with the fact that things are over. He offers a shrug to Bri. "Now, as I was saying I'm going to get that drink."
Isabel /did/ want to walk, and she says so with an emphatic, "Put me /down/. I said I'm peachy." The shaking she's doing against his chest totally proves it, too. She clings to the touch of Tom in her mind, wordless but still a touch anxious.
<< Let him help you, >> Tom suggests with the barest hint of wryness in his voice. << It will be more embarrassing if you fall over. >>
Eshana goes with hot chocolate over the caffeinated beverages. She adds extra milk and marshmallows 'cause Iz just fell off a boat and one needs comfort food at a time like this. Because it is a rich and -swanky- galley, she even finds one of those little tiny hot whisks to whisk it with, and some boat-proof mug to pour it all into. She resists the urge to lick the spoon.
"I've something to help, if you're want," Alden offers with a quick, teasing smile. Knuckle rubbing softly against the seam of Ilad's pants, lifts a shoulder in a slight roll, his own gaze retreating before being met. Tension shows in his jaw as he stubbornly looks back to the draw of attention around Richard and Isabel.
"We lost our scientific bartender." Brielle jokes, as she makes her way back towards the abandoned alcohol with Jacob.
A combination of Tom shooing everyone off, Terry flapping up with the towels and Richard moving to head below decks, Xen takes a few steps back, giving them some room. After all, they're all adults here, and there are enough people crowding in to help. Plus, he's already given his advice. The pilot runs a hand through his short hair, and then seems to realize he still has the life ring in his hand, which he puts back where he got it from.
"Thanks," Rich says distractedly to Terry as she arrives with towels, but jerks his head back towards belowdecks in silent request for her to bring them along to warmer climes. Which she TOTALLY DOES. "Just a second," he says to Isabel, arms firm against her shivering. It's not until they're properly below-decks with Eshana and her hot chocolate that he sets Isabel down on a sofa that would probably rather not get wet. Oh well. He offers up a Terry-provided towel to wrap her up in.
Eshana appears hovering nearby. Silently, she holds out the hot chocolate. Is gift.
"The drugs? No, thank you." Ilad blows a low snort past his nose and glances away.
Adam finally does locate a fuzzy bathrobe that is better than no dry clothing at all. He doesn't linger overmuch, because Isabel doesn't like him anyways and I already have an alt in this area. He returns to the deck, rubbing his forehead. His gaze skips and stalls briefly on Alden and Ilad together before he heads back to the till with a slow breath. TAKE US HOME, PETER.
<< How can it be /more/ embarrassing? >> Isabel wonders of Tom, but she at least doesn't protest anymore. She instead buries her face against Rich's shoulder where she doesn't have to look at anyone until he plops her down, and even then she keeps her head ducked as she snatches at the towel with telekinesis.
It's ok, Adam. They don't seem likely to grab each other and makeout or anything anytime soon. Alden only keeps his knuckles against Ilad's leg, all subtle, and smiles. "Well, it would help," is all he mumbles in response before falling somewhat silent.
Ilad hums a muted note beneath his breath, neither denying Alden's logic nor yielding to it. He brushes his fingertips lightly over the back of Alden's hand and then settles back in a slow shifting lean into the sofa behind him. He glances back toward the bar and then the tiller. "I will be fine," he says, folding his hands together in a loose clasp.
"Well," Adam says sourly to no one in particular as he starts the way home. DEFINITELY NOT ILAD AND ALDEN. "I suppose boat parties are bad ideas."
Brielle eyes the alcohol selection, pouring herself a much less interesting shot than Eshana would have. "I suppose it depends who is on them." She says to Adam. "I personally loved it, and think you have a lovely vessel, Adam."
Alden glances towards Adam as he speaks, but as he's not being addressed, he doesn't speak back. Instead there's something slightly curious about his study before his gaze flicks back to Ilad's. He assures, "I know, love."
"Don't feel bad," Xen says as he passes by Adam, clapping a hand passingly on the other man's shoulder as he heads towards the drinks to replace his last one. "It seems to be a /thing/ with Titan get-togethers," he says with the faint edges of bemusement, "but at least everyone's back on board and safe."
Jacob begins mixing his own drink. "Nah, we don't need science to make a good drink." He takes a sip of what he's mixed with an approving nod. "And I agree, I have had an incredible time."
"I'm glad," Adam says, though his enthusiasm is a bit dulled, considering the circumstances.
Mouth tightening slight, Ilad shakes his head as he glances along the boat towards its captain. He exhales a low sigh past his nose. "Well, nobody drowned," he says.
"Would have been more exciting," Alden answers, annoyance returning with a less than appropriate flash of a smile. After a moment, he pushes to his feet. "I've yet to see the prow. Good luck here." His fingers lift to draw not so subtly over Ilad's jaw before he retreats to other parts of the boat, hopefully before he gets killed with an elbow.
Ilad sits almost completely still. He tracks Alden with a quiet gaze, silent as he watches him go. The tension in his jaw seems wholly set, like it might as well be wired in permanently.
Adam tracks Alden's movements with a lowered, furtive gaze; it flicks back to Ilad and his tension briefly before returning its focus to the ship.
Poor Adam. Xen is oblivious to the birthday boy's plight as he steps back over to the liquor, grabbing another glass before glancing over to Adam once more. "What'll you have, Rutledge?" The pilot grabs a second tumbler and drops in a few cubes of ice before adding scotch. The good stuff, since that is probably what Adam has out.
That's all Adam has on the boat /period/. "Nothing," Adam says on a resigned sigh. "I am not drinking while I'm taking us back to the docks."
Brielle smiles faintly for Adam. "Perhaps after we dock, we can toast to your boat."
"Hnh. Doesn't seem right that the birthday boy has to do all the work," Xen says as he caps the scotch and puts it back, leaving the empty tumbler out and forlorn. He doesn't offer to do the work, though. Though he glances sideways at Brielle, then offering a slight grin in agreement, "After we dock and your boat is safe, then."
Brielle doesn't offer, either. She'd rather not crash his boat.
Ilad sits quietly, now, studying the knuckles of his clasped hands. His brow is knit in a frown. He is kind of boring.
"Yes, well." Adam doesn't seem to have a good response to the plight of his birthday labor. "Perhaps." And he steers along.
Brielle wanders over to the railing for appreciating the view of the water.
And we all float on.