Come Sail Away IC Inbox

[crushed_pearls]

Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Comments

[crushed_pearls]

Dots connect in Erin's head, and she offers a widening smile. "Good to meet you, son of divinity. I guess that does explain some things. I remember a...friend is too strong but he read out this thing from the internet asking why people give the Grin Reaper grief. He just escorts people to the hereafter; imagine having to go all alone. That stuck with me. The coffee I'll take you up on with goodwill but I'll warn ya, I take enough sugar to kill a conventional human."

[midnightroads]

He smiles brightly at being recognized for what he does, when he's at home. "My specialty was roadside accidents and hitchhiker ghosts. I'm from New Orleans, originally, and there's parts of town where cabbies don't pick anyone up at night because ghosts have a habit of skipping on their fares. I ain't been a place with an actual underworld since I was on Earth. The city didn't have none either, though it took longer for people to bounce back from death there."

[crushed_pearls]

"Ahh, New Orleans." Erin sounds downright wistful. "Good memories there. Sorry to hear you're out of work, but..." She shrugs philosophically. "If the Captain gets what he wants we'll probably be in the market for a good psychopomp. This world is not yet in bloom."

The last of the coffee gets drank, and she sets the thermos down. "How you feeling about the whole... copy, bit?"

[midnightroads]

"Right now, I ain't feeling shit about it. Like. I have been outside my..." A small frustrated sound. He's grappling for a word. "...habitat? My own world, but more than that, my place for long enough, yeah? I don't even know if my original is in the city or back on Earth, and at this point getting fucked up about it seems...I'm not gonna say pointless, but there's a point at which you can shit in one hand and spectrulate in the other and see which fills up first. And we sure do got a lotta shit on hand."

He means 'speculate', honestly he does. But this is a man who doesn't think he's smart, especially where the English language is concerned. She knows, she's heard him text.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin nods. "We sure do. My folks...are not cait sith." She pronounces it in a flawless imitation of the Scottish Lost who taught her the name. "We're human. I'm human. And part of squaring the circle has been to learn to think about this kind of thing head on instead of trying to passively deny it so I guess what I'm really trying to ask is: could this be home, for you?"

[midnightroads]

"Get Jeff back in his own body, and sure. I could be at home in a cardboard box, so long as I was with him."

His heart may be a little biased by what's going on right now, in terms of answering that question.

[crushed_pearls]

"Glorious," Erin murmurs. Her haze pops into smoky roses that drift and float while she smiles wistfully. "Truly, deeply glorious, Bash. I can't help with ghosts but you have my best wishes for what they're worth, and my talents if you can think of a use for them. They haven't been terribly helpful in this uh, esoteric crisis but I'm ready."

[midnightroads]

"I'm supposed to be able to help with ghosts, but I got shit here." He rolls his eyes slightly. "Still, thank you for offering. I appreciate the sentiment. It'll be alright in the long run, I'm sure. It's gotta be."

He's holding onto hope with his teeth.

[crushed_pearls]

"And I appreciate your kindness, and your advice, Bash. Even if you think there's nothing else you could have offered." Erin sighs and stands slowly before crossing the room exactly enough to offer the thermos back. "... I'll think on it. Maybe I don't need to drag myself through the decks in chains but there are people who...do need to know. I have to figure out who exactly is on that list."

[midnightroads]

"You're welcome, and you are welcome." He accepts the thermos. "I'll be sure to sugar the everliving fuck out of the coffee for you next time. Do you have a strong opinion on demerara simple syrup versus white refined sugar?"

He won't judge her for liking it sweet. He might judge her for preferring the wrong sugar type.

[crushed_pearls]

Erin sighs deeply. Her cheeks turn a faint pink and she mumbles something inaudible, realizes she did that, and tries again:

"Free," she answers. "Generally my preferences have been 'free'. I've stooped so low as to add sugar substitutes so as not to bother the waitress if the table is out of sugar. But if it helps, leave me unattended and I will turn black coffee into uh, syrup, by adding sugar."

"...My apologies to every coffee culture I've ever encountered but in this case also New Orleans specifically."

[midnightroads]

"Okay. Do I have your permission to offer options and try to help you find actual preferences, based on what's available on-board, coffee-wise? Or are you content with your current coffee palate?"

He knows better than to snob at somebody without permission.

[crushed_pearls]

"Good news! The same beliefs that drive me to ask if this can be my home and what that means to me also suggest that I should try new things to see if they can bring joy into my life." Erin offers a bright smile; her Mantle sparks up, like a weapon range's best attempt at Anime Sparkles. "I'm delighted to let you share your passion with me, Bash. Once things hit equilibrium I'll hold you to it."

[midnightroads]

"Looking forward to it. When the ice cream shop is open again, I'll introduce you to an affogato. But until then, just stop by Sand Dollars if you see me there. Or Ava, she's doing coffee things there too, these days."