(Untitled)

[howmanylives]

At some point within the past day, Dr. Moira MacTaggert had disappeared from the sandy shores of Tabula Rasa, presumably returning to a world where, once again, she'd die in her quest for the Legacy Virus' cure. She'd been the closest thing Jamie Madrox had had to a mother since his own had died when he was just a teenager -- a fierce, but kind

Comments

[starchilde_lost]

Rachel had been slowly walking around, trying to locate all the X-Men on island. More out of a sense of completion, making sure she had eyes on everyone at least once because God only knew when she'd ever see any of them again. So it wasn't exactly hard to understand why she might be making regular trips to the bar, just to see if any one had stopped by.

And so, it appeared someone had. And he didn't look too happy, either.

"Jamie Madrox? Are you okay?"

[Like your M, Rachel's wearing her houndmarks.]

[howmanylives]

It took him longer than it should have to place her, the alcohol already running through his veins dulling his memory, though her markings certainly didn't help matters. He knew her more out of reputation than anything else -- Scott and Jean's daughter from another universe, and all. At least it wasn't her dad talking to him now.

"Marvel Girl, I heard you were around," said Jamie almost too conversationally, rolling his empty shot glass between his palms as he waited for the bartender to bring over a new drink. In spite of how many he'd already had, his speech wasn't yet slurred, though his eyes were somewhat glazed over. "How's Alex, these days? Don't think I've seen him in a dog's age."

[starchilde_lost]

"He was doing fine, I think being a space captain agrees with him."

It was small talk, she knew, but she wasn't even sure where to begin asking the questions that were going through her mind. Why was he here drinking? Why was he here alone drinking? Why was he so obviously bothered by something? She didn't know where the lines were, she hardly knew him, after all, but...

Alex would ask. Alex would know what do, he'd been on the same team with Jamie, after all, he'd have some idea where to start.

Screw it.

"What's wrong?"

[howmanylives]

"God, you really are his kid," muttered Jamie under his breath, pushing a hand back through his hair as he looked Rachel over. His gaze sharpened for all of an instant, though it turned unfocused again almost immediately. The point of this exercise was not to think, after all, and there was little reminiscing about Scott Summers would do except to serve to tick him off.

Shaking his head, he murmured his thanks to the bartender when they came back with a fresh drink, then downed the shot in one gulp, biting back a wince as the alcohol burned his throat. Though tempted, he refrained from asking for yet another so soon.

"Moira MacTaggert disappeared," he said after a long beat. "Things could be better."

[usethecompany]

Alcohol had, in certain respects, what could be called a medicinal quality. Or, to be more precise, this was what was said of it in Archie's time and just prior to it. It was also what Archie would have said of it himself just that evening. His own losses were slowly fading into the past at a plodding, day-by-day pace, too slow to chase away the damnable fits that sometimes plagued him. True, they were far less frequent than they had ever been on the Justinian, but each one troubled him just as greatly.

Alcohol, however, had the medicinal quality of tempering Archie's nerves. In moderation, it was just enough to send him into a dreamless and therefore fitless sleep. Moderation existed on a sliding scale, however.

"Here as well," he said as the bartender approached, a mere two seats over from the other man. "Might as well not waste the journey."

[howmanylives]

"See, now that's just classy," said Jamie, taking his new drink with a nod of thanks from the bartender, even as he addressed the man next to him. With Rahne gone for the time being, he felt less of a need to keep quiet, his earlier awkward reticence fading in favor of something more personable, more natural. "Here you are, probably well on your way to getting as drunk as I am, but you phrase it like that, and people don't think you're some sad sap. Must be nice."

[usethecompany]

For the larger part of his life, Archie laughed readily, always eager to seize the brightest bit of the moment and hold tight. Aided as he was by spirits stronger than his own, this facet of his personality only shone greater.

"A skill acquired only through great practice, sir," he explained, chuckling. "And the rigors of my age. It is not an impossibility for you as well."

[howmanylives]

"Well, nothing's impossible, right?" he said, turning on his stool to face his new drinking buddy more directly. It was only with a better look at the guy that Jamie realized he looked familiar, albeit not because they'd met before -- the hair and the accent were all wrong, sure, but he was the spitting image of Lee Adama off the new Battlestar Galactica. Something about that fact struck him as incredibly hilarious. "You're really not from this century, are you?"

[butterflyfactor]

"If this doesn't look like a recipe for trouble," Layla said from over Jamie's shoulder. She was in a short, black, cotton, hooded dress and fresh from a shower, admittedly not her norm, but then Jamie didn't seem to be in his, either. She approached the bar and leaned against it, watching him with a half curious and half expectant look.

[howmanylives]

Jamie's eyes followed the long expanse of her bare legs for a seemingly interminable moment before they flicked upwards to Layla's face, the bartender having already replaced his drink with a new one without his noticing. That he obviously approved when she inexplicably played dress up didn't need saying. It was written plain on his face. Flushed and dazed already from the alcohol rushing through his bloodstream, the added desire from just seeing her there, looking like that, took him miles closer to his goal of wanting to forget the rest of this day had even happened.

"Nothing wrong with a reasonable amount of trouble," he said in the same hoarse voice as before, his finger tips absently tracing the rim of his glass as he continued to openly stare. "Like the dress."

[butterflyfactor]

"Found it," she said, even though all the clothing on the island was just that. She didn't react to the staring, just continued watching him right back.

"And I guess not. I mean, it's a living."

[howmanylives]

"You wanna sit down?" he asked, having the good sense not to add in my lap, though it was a close run thing. Given the way he was looking at her, it was likely an easy enough blank to fill, regardless. Without waiting for her to answer either way, he held up his index finger to catch the retreating bartender's attention, and called out, "And one for the lady."

[segaboybrodie]

As was customary, especially on Saturday nights when people he knew were knocking back drinks, Brodie sat down beside Jamie without considering whether or not it was a good idea or whether or not it'd be welcomed. The guy was sitting in PUBLIC, after all. If he didn't want people to show up and get up in his shit, then he would have been somewhere more private.

That was Brodie's logic on the situation, anyway.

"Please tell me you're not planning on sinking any yachts." He said.

[howmanylives]

"And nearly get my girlfriend killed again?" asked Jamie, flashing Brodie an incredulous stare. It still felt odd to him to refer to Layla as such, its simplicity so jarring that it didn't seem like it had any place in his vocabulary, disregarding the fact that theirs was the longest relationship he could remember ever having maintained. He hadn't been on the yacht when Stark and Parker had had their throwdown, but Layla had filled him in on the pertinent details. Even a month later, he was less than impressed.

"I'll pass, thanks. 'Sides, I'm pretty sure there aren't any yachts left to sink."

[segaboybrodie]

"YET. It's a tropical island. There's always gonna be another bigger boat." Brodie said, waving down the bartender for a drink of his own. It was Saturday, there was some kind of weird bonfire thing going on down the beach and he STILL wasn't getting laid. Alcohol wasn't such a bad idea.

"So, what's with the mopey face?"

[howmanylives]

"Moira MacTaggert disappeared," he said in a flat voice, accepting his new drink with a nod of thanks. Brodie, in his experience, was both too persistent and loud to bother lying to. "She's dead, when I'm from. Ergo..." Trailing off, he pointed to his face.

[cibosity]

Sawyer was familiar with the concept. Drowning one's sorrows, drowning by means of Bacchus and letting that forced calm blur one's senses. Problem was, the only way to keep from falling into that whirling drain without someone else there to act as a measure, to help one know where they were relative to everyone else. Not that Sawyer's thoughts were half as poetic, even if a part of him realized that this man probably needed some form of company and a few toying jokes. All he knew was that men like them, running away from their issues at the bottom of a glass, could stand to band together. Weren't enough of them around on the island.

"Whoa, Jason, slow down. Gotta leave some for the rest of us," Sawyer smirked, sliding into a seat next to the man and tapping on the bar with a wide-eyed grin at the tender. "One of what he's got."

[howmanylives]

The bartender returned with two shots of whiskey, and Jamie accepted his own with a grateful nod, though the presence of someone new, someone loud and not equally grieving, as Rahne had been, held the potential of a better distraction than silence and the bottom of another empty glass. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, as he got a better look at his unexpected company.

Like most of his team, he'd followed Lost before he ever showed up on Tabula Rasa, and he'd just about bet his left leg that the man sitting aside him now was no one but James "Sawyer" Ford himself, fancy nickname in tow. Having been around the block long enough to stave off any feelings of being star-struck, the only thing that really came to mind was that he was just glad it wasn't Jack.

"Well, you got two letters right," he said, biting back a self-satisfied grin. "Name's Jamie."

[cibosity]

Freaking lush. There was something almost mocking in the way that Jamie grinned, the sort of self-satisfaction found on the lips of a particularly pleased cat after a successful prowl, and it put Sawyer on edge for all of a moment before he remembered that the damn man was drunk and more likely to be a simple pain in the ass, rather than an actual problem. Even if the way that the man was eying him still sent a line of concern stretching through Sawyer's thoughts.

Yeah, that response definitely wasn't one that Jason Dean would have given. Which was too bad, because for a second, Sawyer had been excited about meeting the kid from Charmed on the island. Good show. Hot female leads.

"Think I liked Jason better," Sawyer smirked right in return, dimples digging into his cheeks before he took an initial swig from his glass. "Name's Sawyer. So, what's the deal? Get a girl's initial tattooed on your face and now regrettin' it?"

[howmanylives]

"Nah, I just keep forgetting my own damn last name, so I thought I'd give myself a permanent reminder," he said without missing a beat downing the contents of his glass in one go, the alcohol burning all the way down. That one of his girl's initials happened to be the same letter was a happy coincidence -- for a given value of happy. M, after all, was for mutant, and while getting blown up in a concentration camp was surely worthy of a few drinks in and of itself, that happened a long time ago, and he had more recent issues to forget. That all said, he wasn't as drunk as he was playing up -- hardly a lightweight, he hadn't been at the Hub nearly long enough for that.

"Madrox, I think it is." A beat passed, then he added, "Maddox, depending on the state."