"I cannot stress this enough: neither of us know how to operate a jet ski, and the bobbers I've tied to the ballistic blades will affect their accuracy in ways I have not bothered to find out."
|Dramatis Personae|| |
8 June, 2016
Two jetskis, two ballistic knives, two Deadpool costumes, two dumbasses, and a shark do battle in the ocean. It ends exactly as well as you'd expect.
Howell's Yacht, Intl Waters
It's a spacious luxury yacht decked out for a party. There's food, there's booze, possibly other substances to be found, who knows? There's a hot tub, music, places where people can gather in numbers or slip off in small groups. The party has free reign over the upper decks, more or less. Along the buffet tables and bar are banners reading, Viva la vie eternelle in an elegant, flowing script.
There are also posted notices here and there reading, This is a party. Buzzkills will be sent to The Getalong Closet for reprogramming. -- J. Byrne, your host.
It's a party! Mostly on Howell's dime! God knows why anyone lets Jesse take this kind of advantage of them. Howell's just a nice and generous person. The yacht is spacious, the weather is nice. Jesse spent the trip out to sea-Vegas, as he calls international waters, lounging on a deck chair in a scrap of spandex claiming to be swim trunks, but even a banana hammock would look at the thing and go: dude, have some shame. Whatever, a man likes to get full coverage. Like the Purified can even maintain a tan for long before his super-healing kicks in and repairs all that sun damage. He's got shades on that obscure his gaze, though from the way he lays there, one might think he was dozing.
As well, there is an Australian shepherd mix, and she's sacked out on her side under his deck chair. She had a busy morning running smelling everything on the yacht there was to smell and introducing herself around. She's wearing a little doggie life vest with the name Molly printed on it, and she's a friendly dog. Only now she's an unconscious dog.
Guy is on top deck - and he is wearing what he usually does. In this case? It is all white clothing, loose trousers, a white Cuban shirt open at the neck, and nothing on his feet. No sunscreen - the Purified have no reason to care about sun damage, just as Jesse is currently proving. His shaggy hair is getting even shaggier in the salt spray, and he is currently staring out at the blue, blue water in delight.
Sorin must have found all the material that Jesse's "suit" forgot. He's in a pair of comfortable board shorts and crashed out on his stomach on the deck, arms folded under his head and dozing in the warmth of the sun, soaking it in. The dog has totally got the right idea, and he seems to be following suit with an idle nap, having shown up with Jesse to help hang banners and such early.
It's been a very long time since Tessa's felt the sea breeze on her skin. Very long, at least, relative in normal human life spans. It might be the chief reason she accepted the invitation in the first place. It's at the very least assuredly why the raven-haired woman is currently standing at the bow of the yacht, feeling the wind as it whips those short black locks about in wild, brief ripples. Currently dressed in a black one piece that's largely a one piece by merit of the fact that there are cunning straps of cloth connecting to to bottom in elegant little diagonal stretches of fabric across her abdomen. A golden sarong made of sheer silk hangs at her hips, turning her long legs into silhouettes as she enjoys the wind billowing at her skin, the golden bracelets and anklets decorated with small diamonds she wears jingling lightly with her every little movement. This is about as dressed down as Tessa gets; there's only so much she's willing to give up in the name of casual swimwear. For now, the woman just enjoys herself. She doesn't know many here -- probably any. But that just means it's an opportunity to learn.
There are others about. Somewhere. One presumes the owner of the ship himself is probably present. Perhaps driving the vessel. Someone is, and that's as deep as Jesse's concern about it runs. He loves his child dearly, but she is with a sitter and he's looking forward to a day of being the one people tell 'what's that in your mouth, spit it out' instead of being the one saying it. And so passes the relaxing, rejuvenating journey.
Then, without any discernible trigger, he sits up, rolls to his feet, and takes off his sunglasses. Piercing blue eyes scan the endless ocean, and he says in a voice wrought with grave intent, "Come on, Molly. Let's get some of those bacon-wrapped lobster puffs." Molly's tail wags, but she seems inclined to stay put until bacon his mentioned. Her ears perk, and she gets to her feet, crawling out from under the deck chair in her little doggy life vest, and she stands at Jesse's side, his loyal hound. He did say bacon, right?
Guy glances over at Sorin curiously - Jesse's grandson? Grandnephew? He cannot quite remember the connection, but this is now the first time he is in a place, in the sun, with other immortals. Where he does not have to worry about speaking openly about what he is. Where there is no real concern for him. After a moment, he moves up to Tessa, and he says to her "Hey, motherfucker. I'm going to say something appalling to you at some point today because you're basically emulating every ideal of a boat cruise ever and I'm not used to nice things." He grins ruefully, and then he adds "There's champagne back there - but there's also a coffee machine. I'm getting myself a glass of champers - you want some?"
Sorin groans a bit, comfortable where he is, but the mention of bacon is like a siren song, and so he lifts his head, squinting a bit after Jesse and Molly, as though debating whether he feels the ambition to peel himself off of his beach towel and find something to eat, or whether he's going to remain where he is. He opts to roll over onto his back and drop his sunglasses onto his face instead. Nope. Laziness has taken hold. Noticing Guy looking at him, eyebrows raise behind his sunglasses and he lifts a hand to wave briefly before tucking it back behind his head. "So what is this water jousting?" he asks to no one in particular, the faint hint of his Romanian accent lingering.
Tessa seems lost in her own little world, futiley tucking wild strands of hair behind her ear as she stares out over the horizon. It's only as she hears Guy speaking to her that those amber eyes turn towards the young man. She tilts her head at that bold opener, watches him in scrutinizing silence for a long moment... and then smiles. It's a warm, serene little thing as she turns to face him fully. "So you choose to get it out of the way now so it is all out in the open," she surmises, arching one fine brow, voice tinged with a faint Italian accent. "A respectable strategy. And quite the flattering one." That smile quirks just a little, before she looks back out towards the boat proper, and the others there. "Some champers," she begins without so much as missing a beat, lifting a soft hand to rest encouragingly on Guy's shoulder, "would be lovely. And perhaps help you to take that edge off. Save a glass for me, and I shall join you shortly, cara mia." And with that, she offers a small grin before making her way towards that talk of bacon.
Jianli arrives wearing a dark blue one piece swimsuit, walking with careful steps. She has a sarong of her own wrapped around her waist, obscuring her thighs and wafting on the breeze passing over her. The Chinese woman has pulled her long, black hair back behind her, tied up with a ring of cloth to keep it neat, and formed a spiraling pony tail that hangs along her mostly bared back. Eyes the colour of polished dimes are surveying everyone present with care and then she nods once and starts toward Tessa with careful steps. Jianli is silent as she comes up behind the woman. "Let me help?" That is spoken as her hands come to Tessa's hair and she sets to work with a couple pins to handle the stray locks blowing about. "Hunting bacon, are we?" Guy gets a nod but it seems Jian is focused on her initial task.
Guy is not hugely tall, or indeed conventionally attractive like others, but he does look cheerful. Maybe he has that going for him? Never mind, he grins, and he calls out to Sorin "I have no idea - but I found a jetski wrapped in ribbons addressed to me on the launch deck!" This is a terrible thing, and anyone who thinks at least one minute ahead should realise this. But then he says to Tessa "Yeah, that's basically how I operate, what with the zero filter and living with Jesse down there." He jerks a thumb across to the Romanian in the practically nothing, and he nods easily, another brilliant grin. Haha, a pretty girl talked to him! He sidles off towards the champagne and the lobster and bacon "...Jesse, is anything here vegetarian?" his voice drifts back.
"Huh," Sorin says and then shakes his head as the mental image of what that might mean dawns on him. "That's.. going to be interesting." He finally peels himself up off the deck and wanders over to the edge to look down into the water, wind blowing his hair into his face. He lets his eyes close for a few moments, just enjoying the salt air off of the ocean and the warm sun. Eventually, though, his stomach draws him over in the direction of the food, the smell of it.
Jesse glances down at Sorin, shaking his head as his... relative of some sort fails to escape the gravity of comfort. The two do bear a startling resemblance to one another, and DNA has been kind to both of them. There are slight differences. There is something about Jesse that's less human. Ideal teeth, ideal form, not a scar on him, barely any moles to see. It's like he was just taken from his mint packaging. <<Guy and I are going to go at each other on jet skis with my old Soviet ballistics knives. Which I found, by the way. They were in the same box as the Makarov.>> His conversational Romanian is as native as it gets, despite his American accent being damned authentic. He glances toward Guy and Tessa, and his lips twitch. <<That old Guillermo charm. I'll bring you something to eat.>> Then back to English, "Yeah, but I licked all of it."
The hands in her hair, the voice. Tessa smiles and tilts her head back just a bit to let the much smaller woman work that much more easily on her hair. "Grazie, Jian," she offers with all due warmth, shutting her eyes a moment to enjoy the breeze. "I haven't felt the ocean wind in some time. And it is no use if you don't enjoy it properly." Once done, she looks back to Jian with a small twinkle in those amber eyes, taking her hand. "Couldn't you go for some bacon? It has been a while since I've enjoyed some of that, too." And with that, she wanders towards Jesse and Sorin, expression warm as she presses a hand to her chest. "I'd love some bacon, if you do not mind the imposition." Ever so polite. That hand extends, in offering. To Sorin or Jesse or both, she allows either of them to decide. "Tessa Fausti. And this is Jianli." A little tug of her hand against Jian's, gentle but insistent, as if to patiently compel the young woman to introduce herself.
"Qiu Jianli," Jian responds to this, her name pronounced in syllables that are, by and large, foreign to American ears. She looks around at the people indicated and smiles sweetly, hands still occupied with Tessa's hair. Once Jian is satisfied she turns toward those present and takes a deep breath. "I would enjoy some bacon as well, if it is not too much trouble." She squeezes Tessa's hand, the same one which prompted her to greet the other people in the room, and then nods slowly. "It's a lovely yacht.I haven't been on a ship quite like this one before," she continues, almost musingly. Mmm. She keeps Tessa's hand and does not offer her ow. "It's fascinating."
Guy wrinkles his nose at Jesse in irritation, but then he is leaning down to find something made of aubergine with sliced pices of cheese on top. Roasted with crumbs, and after a moment he takes it back with the champagne and he stretches in the sunlight and says "Man. Okay. You know? This is why I'm glad I'm not hanging out with that vampire any more. I was starting to miss this! This weather is fantastic...oh man."
Jesse offers Tessa a brilliant smile. He's got a face that broadcasts those expressions vividly in all their broadness and subtleties. It's all in those baby blue eyes. He clasps her hand and, on the way to his lips, he pauses to tell Guy, "Licked it." Then there's that smile again, elegant as anything. He brushes a courtesy kiss over her knuckles and says, "It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fausti." He nods to Jianli and says, "And you, too." Stepping aside, he gestures to Sorin and says, "This is my brother, Sorin Nicolescu. I'm Jesse Byrne. You've met Guillermo, and this is Molly." Molly knows her name (and the word for delicious pigmeats), and she wags her tail, gazing up at the two women, tongue lolling. This may sound crazy, because she's just met you two, but she loves you.
Jesse says, "Bacon's up to Molly, but she's a good girl, so I know she'll share. Aren't you, Molls?" Molly knows 'good girl' too and that sets her tail to wagging even harder. Is there a good girl around? Is it her? She just doesn't know!
"Nice to meet you," Sorin says to those whom he's not yet met, and, having acquired himself a few bits with bacon, offers the plate to Tessa before reaching over and getting a bit for Jian as well, offering it to her. Only after they each have a plate, does he reach for another for himself, and begins setting a few items on it once more. He reaches down to give Molly a scritch behind the ears, careful to keep ihs plate out of canine reach.
The smile that graces Tessa's lips is one that still manages to be dazzling somehow despite how subdued it is, a little touch of charm infusing every inch. Hand taken, she tilts her head at that brief, passing exchange with Guy and Jesse, brows lifting a subtle tick -- but the smile does not fade even a single touch. "Incantata," she returns, giving Jesse's hand a warm squeeze before letting her fingers slip from his. "Despite your predisposition towards licking." Her smile quirks upward in teasing amusement before she lets her head dip -- first to Jesse, "Mr. Byrne," then to Sorin, "Mr. Nicolescu. A more ideal-looking pair of siblings I have never seen." Her praise comes with calm sincerity as she looks towards Guy, gently bowing her head to him in turn. "Guillermo. It is lovely to put a name to the face."
And it's then that she drops down into a crouch before Jesse's dog, taking that plate with effortless ease before tearing off a bit of bacon. "You must be the star of the party today, Molly," she offers up to Molly, her smile effusively warm and her voice taking on sweet, honeyed inflections. "And what a beautiful girl you are. Here, bella." And she offers up that piece of bacon to the dog like a little present even as she continues to speak. "Do any of you by chance know Godric Ritter...? I was dearly hoping to meet him here today."
Molly is happiest dog. She looks up at Jesse when Sorin offers bacon, and he says, "Go ahead." See what a good girl she is? She takes the offered tidbit delicately and it goes down the hatch. Then Tessa offers a piece, and again, she takes it like a dainty little lady without so much as a scrape of teeth on fingers. Her ears dip humbly as she wags and swallows the treat. Then she licks Tessa's fingers a few times. Not only are they bacony, but they haven't been subjected to puppy kisses yet. Jesse watches her with sappy pride. "That's my good girl. She's always the star of the show." At the mention of Ritter, he grins, and there's laughter in his voice. "We've met. He's at home with our daughter. Apparently this was too much fun, and he hates fun."
Jianli stands behind Tessa quietly as the greetings go back and forth, her expression one of gentle calm as she surveys the people present one more time. She is as much guardian as companion, watchfully warding the blonde with her presence without being obtrusive. Jian folds her hands politely over her lap and quietly listens, watching. When Tessa mentions Godric Ritter, however, the woman pauses. A beat. Now she's interested. Still nothing from Jian, really. She relaxes as Jesse explains where Ritter is.
Guy says "For some reason, he gets a funny look on his face when Jesse suggests things I should do." He grins, but he has champagne, and delicious vegetarian food, and he then tilts his head to look off into the aching blue sky, a few white clouds scudding here and there "Also, I think Dr. Howell is around somewhere too - I had no idea he had this much money." He is soon nosing around the electronic equipment close by, and in a little? Some Cuban reggaeton begins to play, and Guy relaxes his shoulders back. Music, in so many ways, it feeds him more than mere food would. "Con mucho gusto..." he breathes out, letting his Cuban accent strengthen, and he then folds his arms behind his head and sings along with the music, under his breath. Then he glances at Jianli, and he says "He is a nice hombre, though - Ritter, I mean!"
Sorin lets his attention drift from one person to another as they talk, a little smile touching his expression. Taking his plate, with him, he wanders to find himself a drink, pouring a glass before moving over to one of the lounges. There, he settles himself with food and drink, stretching out his legs comfortably to listen to the others as he picks through his treasure trove of things to nibble on.
"Ah, so you are the ones he mentioned." Fingers licked, Tessa doesn't even hesitate before approvingly patting Molly on the head, her fingers moving about fleetly to scratch at the back of the dog's ears adoringly. She speaks some sweet little praises in Italian for the girl along with a rare, bright grin that exposes pearly white teeth before she finally comes to a stand. "Then I must say it is an even greater honor to meet you all." She bows, this time, a deep, humble little thing, and when she straightens, her expression is sincerely fond. "Poor Godric. He always did prefer our talks over our adventures. But then, trying to indulge in adventure during Russian winters has rarely ever been advisable." A smile dances at her lips as she gently presses a hand against Jian's back, encouragingly. "He is, though. A good man. Send him my best, will you? I would very much like to speak with all of you soon." That smile, in its subtle way, takes on a more amused, mischievous touch. "Perhaps after we've indulged in this water jousting of yours. Best to get the things that would give poor Godric a heart attack out of well out of our systems first, wouldn't you say?"
"Water jousting, hm?" Suddenly Jian's eyes light up and she nods lsowly. Tessa's hand is still on her back and she glances over at the other woman, offering her a beatific smile as she does so. "I have ot admit I am curious. Would it be alright if I sat in on a game? I have a feeling I will be able to play well enough..." The tiny Chinese woman rolls her shoulders now, taking a deep breath as she stretches and adjusts herself. She uses hrr free hand to lightly reposition one of the straps on the backless swimsuit she's wearing, , tilting her head slightly to the left as she does so."And then I should meet this Godric. It sounds like we would agree on a few things. Perhaps even water jousting."
Guy's eyes widen "What did he say about us?" he asks, his own accent strengthening, startled, as he glances at Jesse suddenly. Then his dark brown eyes are full of mischief, and he pops the last little delightful treat into his mouth. Guy dusts off his hands, knocking back the rest of his champagne "You're so polite, but we're an entire bag of dicks. I'm Guillermo - but my name is Some Guy, to most people. I'm also a couple of other people - Glory, Symbiote. I died earlier this year and came into this life, but before it, I don't think I was much less weird, y'know?" He stands up on a storage box, and he says "The water jousting! Okay, so photos are fine, I think? No one will know these days they aren't Photoshopped, and I'm a motherfuckin' computer genius - I mean, Symbiote is. So we can do _whatever we want out here_! Time for the Deadpool costumes!" As Jian speaks, then Guy says "Oh, I'm totally okay with everyone watching this. Or doin' it. I don't really know how it works, but...look, I gotta do this." He points at Jesse, the near-naked "I'm callin' you out, man! Castro! I'm takin' you down!" He asides to Sorin "Sorry if I yell at your granddad during this."
There are places near to food to chill out with it with side tables for plates and glasses to rest. Sorin is clearly the quieter of the pair, because Jesse, he stays right in the middle of it. The only reason he stands off to the side at all is that the breakfast buffet has appetizer-sized waffles and pancakes on toothpicks, berries to spear on the end, and cream for dipping. And there's the bacon mountain, the maple syrup fountain. Jesse knows how to spend other peoples' money. He takes a waffle-bite, spears a strawberry, dips it in cream, then runs it under the maple syrup fountain until its so sodden it nearly slides off the pick. It's a race against gravity to get it to his mouth. Success! Minus the drop of maple syrup running down his chin, which he licks off. Mmm. "Wait, I just realized, we can talk freely here. Sorin's my grandson. The brother-thing flies better in the mortal world is all." He gets himself a glass of breakfast champagne, and after another waffle bite and acquiring a plate of bacon, he wanders to a nearby place to settle. Never far from the center of things.
Molly is in heaven. Normally she would settle beside Jesse's lounger, but how can she when she's making new friends? Jesse hears the tiniest whine and he says, "It's okay, Molls." She stays at Tessa's side for now. Look everyone, this is her new best friend. Jesse tilts his head as he regards Tessa. "You know Rick," he says lightly. "He's been everywhere." Then with lashes lowered and a cocky grin, he adds, "I always give him the best every time I walk through the door." With a gesture toward the jet skis, he says, "It's a spectator sport. My official welcoming of Guy to eternity."
Sorin shrugs his shoulders at Guy from where he sits on his lounge chair with his bits of food and his drink, neatly picking through the plate methodically, one bite after the other. There's some method in the order in which he goes about it, most likely to maintain the structural integrity of the pile and not end up wearing it. "Yell at him all you like. He can take it," Sorin says with an amused smile touching the corner of his lips as he looks back to Jesse. "I am pretty sure you won't make him cry."
"Only good things," assures Tessa. "He told me he had put down roots here. His expression was positively giddy with boyish pride to talk of the ones he had set those roots down with." Tessa, casually giving ammunition. But she sounds so fond in her words, even as she smiles at the dog who has now become her stalwart companion. She reaches down to stroke the animal's head lovingly for just a moment. "Grandfather, then." She nods her head to Sorin, as if being reintroduced. "You must be quite proud of him." But -- jousting! For now, Tessa will look for a good seat to make for a vantage point, gesturing for Jian to follow her with a faint smile. "It sounds quite dangerous. I'm sure you would love it if that's the case, Jian," she asserts seriously, despite her grin. She looks to Guy considerately. "I look forward to seeing you learn about your new limits with your motley bag of dicks, Guillermo." Settling into a lounge chair, she crosses one leg elegantly over the other, and considers. "And should you emerge triumphant, perhaps I ought to favor you with a kiss." It sounds like it should be a tease. But Tessa says it with such earnestness it's hard to not take her words seriously.
Guy is dressed all in casual white clothing with a guayabera - a men's shirt distinguished by two vertical rows of closely sewn pleats that run the length of the front and back of the shirt. Probably not something most have seen before. Howell may also not have seen Guy just looking happy rather than sort of crazy and intense and bouncing. Right now he is working himself back up to it, but the fact is, he looks a bit...balanced. _All_ of him is here, instead of being split into several different processing systems. For once, he is completely paying attention. He grins at Tessa "Heh. Boyish pride? _Well_." Hands are rubbed. Then his eyebrows lift "Oh, whoa. Now it's on. A kiss!" Everyone is on the deck with exposed sunshine, and there is champagne, delicious treats, and people honestly mostly look as if they are on a cruise. There are beautiful banners up, and Guy has remembered he happens to be Cuban.
While Jesse let getting them out into International Waters be Howell's problem, he's been out here playing host and enjoying all of Howell's money he's spending. Breakfast champagne, bacon volcano, maple syrup fountain. It's early still. Brunch is served. He's in something that barley qualifies as swim trunks. The triangle in front barely encases the goods, and the thin strap of a backside shows off his way more than, say, Ritter would approve of. But hey, when does he ever get to flaunt what he's got these days? Forever young, forever beautiful, and Ritter keeps it locked away. Except Ritter's not here.
Guy, Tessa, Jian, Sorin, Jesse, and Jesse's dog Molly are lounging near the breakfast bar around and on the deck chairs provided for people to take a load off while they eat. Molly is wearing a little doggy life vest with her name on it, and she's hanging out with Tessa right now. Sorin makes his excuses and heads inside to get out of the sun for a bit. Jesse quips something in Romanian to him as he goes. They are night and day when it comes to socializing.
After polishing off his bacon and draining his champagne glass in one swallow, Jesse gets to his feet, and he points at Guy as he says, "I will crush you, you little bitch. I'll crush all of you. Except Glory. Glory's cool. Suit up." To the others, he says, "I cannot stress this enough: neither of us know how to operate a jet ski, and the bobbers I've tied to the ballistic blades will affect their accuracy in ways I have not bothered to find out. Now, the stakes are these: I might have had a small part in the liberation of Cuba by our beloved, glorious Fidel. To be honest, I spent most of my time there hitting up casinos and getting high with Che. The Soviets were officially nowhere near Cuba, and I was not good at my job. However, the Spazmanian Devil over here wants justice. I say bring it."
"Danger has never been anything I've shied from," Jianli agrees rather mildly, smiling again at Tessa as she listens to the conversations fly back and forth. She shrugs her slender shoulders delicately, seeming content with allowing everyone else to carry the conversation even still. "You were a Soviet hanging with Che, hm? I was doing very little in that time period, I'm afraid." She purses her lips lightly and then takes a deep breath. Careful steps carry Jian to the railing of the boat so that she can look over the side. "Hmm." Only after she has looked out into the water does the small woman take the indicated seat beside Tessa along with another deep breath.
It is then that Howell emerges from the bridge, onto the top deck. But no one is up on the top deck. He's wearing a white linen suit, but no shirt or shoes to speak of, or belt. His ring glints a bit in the sunlight as he adjusts his tortoiseshell clubmasters. He stretches, looking as eerily energetic as usual, and then grabs the railing, looking down. That's where the people are. He hops over the railing, with a flip, and lands on the lower deck, bracing himself, in one fluid movement. There's a bit of a proud smile on his face as he jumps down, almost superhero-like. Gotta impress the guests, in case the yacht didn't do it. He bows to everyone after his little acrobatic display. "Sorry, all, I must seem like a terrible host, though of course I do have Jesse to cover for me." He begins with a grin. "I had an important phone call. The foundation is working on some real estate development, at the moment; we just purchased an island nearby, you see. Loads of red tape, and all that." He sighs, holding out his hands. "Anyways, is everyone accommodated? Drinks? Does someone want a massage? Osgoode does a marvelous shiatsu."
Guy opens his mouth, then he says "I am cool." Was that Glory responding, or one of the others demanding that they, also, count as cool? Never mind. Guy is waving at Howell, and then he starts to pull his clothes off. He says something filthy to Jesse in Spanish as he strips down to his boxers. Then he is taking out his Deadpool costume and tugging it onto himself. Feet, body, the rest of it, everything but the mask. Fitting that over his fluffy hair is going to be pretty hard. "I'm ready! I might need that massage later!"
"You've led a very storied life, Mr. Byrne," Tessa offers to the man as he explains so casually about the situation and his time in Cuba, a delighted little chuckle slipping her lips. "I imagine Che was quite the person to be with, with the proper stimulants. You'll have to regale us, sometime. Tell us who else you have gotten high with in history. Perhaps when you are not potentially skewered." Again, sincere but teasing; the raven-haired woman looks legitimately interested, before her smile widens just a touch for Guy's enthusiasm. When Jian makes her way to her side, Tessa reaches out to take her hand again, fingers lacing even as her other keeps Molly happy with a steady stream of affectionate attention. "Are you enjoying yourself, Jian?" she asks, softly, just before those amber eyes take sight of Howell's grand entrance. She just has to steal her hands away a moment to clap for it. She -must-. "Ah, you must be the host. Thank you for accommodating us, sir," Tessa offers, before her hands return to their previous positions, her smile calm but friendly. "Tessa Fausti. And I am fine for now, grazie. I believe we were just about to get the festivities under way..."
Howell's arrival startles Molly. She scrabbles to he feet. Bark bark bark! Then the bold defender slinks to Jesse and coils around his legs, hiding behind them. Bark! Grr, bark! Then whimpering as she cleaves to Jesse, her tail clamped tightly over her butt.
Jesse glances down at his brave defender, then to Howell, and he waves. "It's okay, Molls," he tells the dog in a light, soothing voice. Her ears perk, and she glances at the man who startled her. Is it, though? Is it okay? She looks away, not risking eye contact that might accidentally pick a fight. Jesse tells Howell, "We have champers and Mt. Pigmeats. It's all good." He heads over to pick up the other Deadpool costume, and though it isn't a wetsuit, the effort to squirm into it makes it seem like it might as well be. "Molly," he says as he slithers and pulls and tugs, "Go to Sorin." She hesitates. Stuff is about to happen, she can sense it. "Go to Sorin," he says again. After some internal canine struggle, she pads off toward the cabin Sorin went to rest in. "She will freak the fuck out," Jesse explains. Seeing her people in the water, loud noises, fighting. Yeah. He then flashes a grin at Tessa and says, "How about after this, we share stories? The ones we want others to know, of course."
"Am I enjoying myself?" Jianli blinks, the nglances down at her finger,s laced with Tessa's. There's a slight shrug from the small woman, who is still smiling quietly as hse listens to the other people present speak. "I've never been much for parties. But this is the best one I've been at in quite a long time. I am enjoying myself well enough, Tessa. Better because you seem to be as well." She looks around one more time and draws another of those deep breaths of hers. "I should go ahead and get a drink, I think. Would you like one as well? I'm sorry if I'm... Ruining the mood. Everything is well. I promise." Then Jianli's eyes shift back to Jesse and she watches silently. And listens as well, presumably.
Howell smiles broadly. "Dr. Howell Sinclaire, positively charmed." He says to Tessa, then his hands go to his hips. "Good! I didn't want to miss the uh... butchery, I guess." His brow furrows. Then he nods to Jesse, smiling again. "I don't think the two of you will need my help but if there's an accident, I'm around." With that, he grabs a bottle of champagne and flops into a reclining lounge chair, raising it in salute to the violence that is about to be unleashed before him.
"It's impossible to ruin _this_ mood," says Guy, with utter cheer. He keeps the face-mask off until Molly is gone, but then he pulls it down. He is a little short, and the costume is a little tall, so it has wrinkles. But there it is - two Deadpools, ready to go. Guy looks slightly nervous, underneath "What do I do if I die?" he asks Jesse, as he heads towards the jetski.
Jesse too holds off on the face mask until Molly is off with Sorin and not able to witness this. The game of where the fuck did dad's face go is not a happy one, neither is who the fuck is that and what does he want -- which is an appropriate reaction to Deadpool's face. Jesse manages to get the suit on with some twisting, turning, chasing his zipper around in a circle til he finally gets it. "I can't see a thing," he says with glee. Only now does he think to ask, "Do you have a crypt?"
"Not at all, amore mia," Tessa assures firmly, giving Jian's hand a squeeze. She wiggles her fingers in farewell to Molly as the dog sadly retreats into the cabin. "Go get your drink. I think I may as well." Amber eyes tilt to watch Jesse and Guy working on those Deadpool costumes with the curious tilt of her head. "A certain level of inebriation would be useful for truly getting a full experience for the main event." Unlacing fingers from Jian's, Tessa stands, pressing a hand to her chest and bowing eloquently to Howell. "Dr. Sinclaire. Incantata. Truly. I'm sure we'll all appreciate your presence if something gets out of hand." Odds seem to be in favor of it. She looks to Guy, and Jesse, and grins. "That sounds wonderful. Should something unfortunate happen to one of you, we can wait to tell our stories until you recover. It would be tragic for either of you to miss out."
Howell stretches out again, perfectly comfortable, and has a good long drink of that champagne. "Yeah I mean, I can patch up... just about anything." He says, glancing between the two Deadpools. "Though it's not particularly necessary with regards to our friends, here."
"What's a Crypt?" asks the rather new Purified "I know I'll heal up from things eventually, uhhh. Hang on. If I get shoved into the other realm? I'll stay up here near the boat, or try to stay near the boat, and then I can lead you to my body." The conversation must sound completely demented "These eye thingies are hard to see though," he complains "Okay. Uhhh. I can't drive a jetski. Or use ballistics knives. Oh, man, no _wonder_ Ritter hates this idea!" He pauses "Let's _do_ it! Before I get my head blown off? Thanks Dr. Howell - you are the best!" He should be horrified. He _sort_ of seems scared. Scared, and gleeful.
"I could use it if I make too many mistakes," Jianli responds to Howell somewhat briskly. "But it's never a reason not to try." The smallest of the immortals present shrugs her shoulders lightly and turns to survey everyone on the boat. she is shrugging slowly and giving Tessa a slow nod. "Though in this case... I think I will drink and watch instead," she decides judiciously. "I will return soon with your drink." That last statement is for Tessa and then Jianli is winding into the crowd and weaving her way toward the drinks in question. She will return with a glass for both women before long.
Jesse pauses. One can see the thoughts going through his head. Hello honey, I'm home. The good news is Howell can probably afford a deep see submersible. "Let's tie you to the jet ski," he suggests. He takes out the pair of Soviet era KGB-issue ballistic knives. "These are easy," he says, "So easy a toddler could do it." The knives have fishing line tied around the base of the blade, and hanging from the line are brightly colored bobbers. "You see this catch here? Press it when you want to deploy it. These things are pretty tightly wound; they fly out of there pretty hard." He offers one to Guy. Hard to see his expression with the mask on. "We'll have five minutes to learn how to use the jet skis, then we fight. Ready?"
"OK!" says Guy, muffled. He heads off with Jesse to get onto the jetskis, and to be firmly attached to one - fortunately leg ropes are pretty standard fair with things like surfboards, so the equipment is not going to be hard to find "I can't even over _ballistic_ knives -" Can those up top hear them, down below? Maybe. They can shortly certainly hear the brzzzzzzhrrrr sound of Guy's jetski being turned on and then a "Wahey - SHIT!" as Guy rockets away from the boat, flailing. Jesse has armed this idiot?
Jesse has indeed armed this idiot. "He'll be fine," he says, though can people hear them from all the way up there? Honestly it's just two Deadpools down below, moving around, doing stuff. Jesse takes a little more care with the jet ski. It's all about pretending to know what you're doing while never forgetting you really, really don't. Still, when that thing takes off, he has to hold on for dear life. It skips over the choppy water, jerking as it goes. Jesse cackles with glee and lets out a loud, "WOOOOO!" Then tries to bank it and goes down. Sploosh. Luckily jet skis are designed to stop instead of chop their downed rider to bits.
"Ah, ballistic knives," Tessa says, with a strange degree of fondness as she crosses arms under her chest, and raises one hand to tap at her chin lightly. "I had a rather unfriendly young man fire one of those into my stomach once, when I was traveling through Soviet Russia. I could honestly say it was the first time I had been shot with a knife." She seems to be remembering the exact event. The fact that she looks mildly delighted for it just means she's happy to remember that experience when it was new. And painful. "Make sure he is secure, Mr. Byrne," she calls out after Jesse. "The open ocean can have a mind of its own when it comes to whisking people awa--" And off Guy goes flying. Tessa arches one fine brow. "Perhaps he is a fast learner." One can only hope. Still. "Hm. Now who do you suppose will come out the victor?" A second of thought passes as Tessa watches them flail around. "Perhaps neither?"
So there's a voice from the waterline, even as Jesse and Guy are heading for the jetskis. There's a kayak, of all things, a bright green, and a man in it, riding the jetski wake and keeping his place with the ease of long practice. "The ship, ahoy!" he calls. He's olive skinned, with severe Roman features and shortcut black hair, dressed in a blue rashguard and boardshorts. Where the hell did he come from?
"Just uh... well just try not to scratch the yacht. Or me. Maintaining this," Howell begins, gesturing up and down his body without looking directly at the guests, his whole body leaned back, "is expensive to maintain." His yell is loud enough to be heard from the water. He takes another long drink of the champagne, then sighs. He hopes for the best.
Down below in the water, the jetskis are zooming around in circles around one another. Apparently something is happening down there. Something involving them _almost crashing_ repeatedly. Guy seems to be heading in the wrong direction entirely.
Jesse climbs back on the jet ski, and he starts it up again, beelining right for the... is that a fucking kayak? Jesse banks sharply. Miracle of miracles, he makes it, though he sends a spray of water cascading over Tavi. He brings the jet ski around, and as it idles, he calls out as loud as he can through the mask, "What the hell, you crazy bastard! Bringing a kayak to a jet ski fight. There's food on the boat." He waves toward the boat. Hey, this guy down here that's now wet, he's okay.
"I think that when fools play with weapons no one wins," Jianli responds to Tessa honestly, left hand against her lap while the right grasps a glass. She takes a deep breath and then slowly sighs, watching as the jetskis are zooming back and forth through the water. "I've never been shot with a knife but I've been shot at by people with bows many times," Jian muses, shrugging her shoulders as she does so. "I imagine it hurts in a similar way truthfully. Though in those cases I was often fortunate enough to place a sword through the unfortunate archer." She sips her drink now, shrugging once more as she does so. "I suppose we will find out the answer to your question soon enough."
Howell responds to Jian, turning his head vaguely in her direction and smiling stupidly. "I've been shot with a knife twice. It's a motherfucker, I'll have you know. But not as bad as a shotgun." He's surprisingly casual as he says this. Then he sighs again, listening to the engines start up. "You must be pretty old to be talking about swords. I won't pry, but that's a damn fine art. I uh... I opt for handguns, usually, myself." Another drink of the champagne. "Man just talking about getting his with a ballistic knife makes me want a massage." The surgeon scratches his cheek, frowning.
He hooks it on to one of the yacht's fender lines, and then scrambles up to the deck with the ease of a squirrel swarming up a tree. He proves to be a tallish man, apparently in his early thirties, with bright brown eyes and an inquisitive expression. Nevermind that he's in boardshorts and rashguard, he bows with a courtier's elaborate ceremony to those already present on the deck. Straightening, he says, "I'm Ottaviano Sforza, a brother of Godric Ritter. Guillermo and Jesse can vouch for me, I believe." Like he's sure of his welcome.
A man on a kayak. "Bold choice. Is he part of the bout?" Tessa wonders with lifted brows, looking like maybe she's hoping that's the case, because, how much more interesting could it get then? She seems to be rather accepting of the fact that he maybe isn't here to duel jetskis, though, giving a return wave to Jesse below as if in acknowledgment of the sentiment. When Jian returns with the glasses, she graciously takes one with the press of a kiss against the woman's cheek. "It is quite an experience," Tessa agrees with Howell. "And startling, too." She looks back to the other two, smiling faintly. "Jian makes warfare into a beautiful art. You should see her in action sometime, doctor. It is something to behold." She tilts her head, considering. "I take it you are not like myself and the two down there? Jian is something different from us, as well." Still -- as Tavi introduces himself, she smiles in that calm, friendly way of hers, offering up a hand. "A brother of Godric is a friend of mine. Tessa Fausti." She nods Jian's way. "Qiu Jianli. It is a sincere pleasure."
Howell turns towards the new arrival, and as soon as his head turns there's suddenly a matte black throwing knife in his hand with a flick of the wrist. But then the guy is speaking, and the doctor squints. "Oh uh... hey. Welcome. Grab a beer, champ." And just like that he flips the knife in the air and catches it again, then he places it gently down next to him. Then he faces Tessa, sitting up a bit. "I'm one of a kind, darling." And that's all he has to say about that.
Dripping water on the no doubt spotless deck, Tavi bows over that offered hand, with an utter lack of self-consciousness. Clearly, he's old enough to have lived through at least one era when such gestures were de rigeur. "A pleasure, madame. He's mentioned you before, and utterly failed to do justice to your beauty." Tavi clicks his tongue scoldingly, as if to chide the absent Ritter. And then he bows again, to Jian herself. "An artist of war? I hope some day to be privileged to see her work." He seems entirely serious, but there's a distinctly roguish gleam in his eyes. Howell receives his attention next. "Doctor, you are master and commander here, I think?" His English is only faintly accented. Not a flinch at the knife, though his gaze follows it with the same keen amusement. He's of the same stripe as the two gallantly stupid chevaliers jousting on the waves beneath, so no mundane blade is more than an inconvenience at worst.
"One of a kind? Mmm? I think we all are. Isn't that why we're here?" Jianli is smiling quietly to herself as she states this, turning to face the doctor a she does so. "Ot really is. A pleasure, I mean. I don't speak very often but in your case I think I am going to make an exception. It's quite the party. More for the people here than for the...Maple syrup fountain and bacon volcano, or whatever it is that appears to be." she shifts her gaze to the table slowly. "Are parties like this thrown very often? I've been out of touch for some time. It's good to get out and about, just in case."
Jesse turns the jet ski. Tries to. The thing keep stalling. Finally he revs it up, and just as he's bringing it about to lunge at Guy, Guy whips buy and the blade glints in the sunlight. It rips through the arm of Jesse's costume. Remember why it's read? So the bad guys can't see him bleeding. Which he is. The blade sinks like a stone in the water, but brightly colored bobber bounces on the waves, keeping it from falling too far. Jesse meanwhile waits for Guy to pass buy. Guy has to pass by to get his blade.
And when Guy does pass by, Jesse's blade whizzes past, the bobber waving on its way by as it carries the blade off course. Now he has to pass by Guy to get it.
And Guy turns his jetski back, trying to get it around so he can retrieve the knife. He sort of pulls the mask of the costume up a bit so he can work out where it is, then pulls it down again. Is he even aware he hit his dearly beloved friend? Who knows. From the whooping and carrying on, he does seem to be enjoying it all.
"Well, I don't entertain, often. But I'm glad you're enjoying yourself." Howell replies to Jian. "This was Jesse's idea. And uh, I don't know about master and commander. It is my ship, though. Welcome aboard. Sorry about the knife, thing, by the way. I'm a little antsy, right now. It would've been a terrible first impression to put a knife in your eye because I'm an anxious spazz, not that I think it'd slow you down too much." He says to Tavi, then sighs. He stands up and drops the now empty bottle of champagne carelessly, then walks over to grab a red stripe from a cooler. "Please, please make yourself comfortable. We were just watching as Guy and Jesse commenced with mutually assured mutilation, which I thought they only did with words, behind closed doors. Turns out ballistic knives come into the equation sometimes."
"My, intriguing," is Tessa's answer to Howell, the faint ghost of a curious smile on her lips before her attention turns to Tavi. That specific sort of gesture makes her eyes light up in both recognition and appreciation. "You have quite the way with words, signore," she offers by way of compliment, head tilting to the side. "Is it a natural talent, or one honed over the years?" Her grin is lovely, and grows ever so slightly more in reference to Jian, looking back at the woman. "It is always a breathtaking sight to see her at work in her craft. My words can hardly do it justice. Like all art, it must be seen to be properly interpreted." Taking a sip of her drink, she looks back down towards the two going at it in those jetskis, a fond look in her eyes. "Oh, they are truly getting into it now. Superb."
Jesse's tactic is simple. Ignore the flesh wound and go for his blade while Guy is busy with his. He might be getting the hang of this jet ski thing. He's able to bring it right up alongside the bobber, which he fishes out of the water along with the blade attached. Salt water is surely great for these antique knives. He tries to keep an eye on Guy, but with the task of untangling fishing line and loading a very tightly wound spring mechanism, he's a sitting duck.
Guy frantically fishes the knife back, and then is holding it, blinking at it. How _does_ one reload a ballistics knife? He has no idea at all. He is winding it, working on it...it falls in the water, he gets it out again, and then he curses quietly, while he tries to get close enough to kick at Jesse's jetski "You are so lucky I'm not cheating!"
His eyes nearly vanish in the depth of his smile. "I've had many years to hone such skills," Tavi concedes, blithely. "As you might have guessed. Godric is my elder, but my years have been....long upon the earth, let's say." Howell's comment about the knife conjures a mere gracious gesture. I know you know, etc. He does help himself to the champagne with enthusiasm. Never turn down free good booze.
"It seems wasteful," Jianli muses quietly, glancing toward the water again and then shaking her head once more. She seems content to stand where she is and stare out at the water. She shifts her weight again from left to right and then breathes a quiet sigh. "Let's not purposefully knife anyoen in the eye save for the two fools battling out with knives below us," Jianli continues with a soft sigh."First impressions do tend to be very important and I don't think anyone came with the expectation of devolving into ritual combat."
"What makes you think there's rules?" Jesse calls back as he also takes time, dead in the water, to load the knife. Which he does actually know how to do. God knows he's done it before under -- believe it or not -- worse circumstances than this. He snaps it into place, then brings the jet ski around. Slow and steady. Nice and easy. He lines himself up so he can zip past Guy as if they were on horses on the tourney grounds. It is jousting after all, not just flailing around with knives that shoot. He revs the engine, then makes a beeline for Guy, knife pointed lance-style. Click. Whoosh! He scores a hit. On its own, it's not that impressive, but given how the ocean is a harsh mistress...
Guy brings the jetski up around Jesse - Guy is quite good at it, perhaps surprisingly - but machines are his thing. He coasts it over the white softcaps and the water slaps, a beautiful greenish colour. He has wound the knife, he sights, and he, too, is coming up against Jesse "I can make your jetski sink," says the baby techno-spirit, in glee "All I -" He is about to fire "-have to do is focu-" Jesse's knife hits the end of Guy's knife as Guy fires. There is a funny jangling noise. The barrels are not like those of simple, legal sprung knives. This is an entirely different kettle of fish. Jesse's knife goes _vwip_ - _straight up_. How far away is that beautiful big ship again? And Jesse hit the end of Guy's knife - not the tip. Guy had it the wrong way around, and right against him. _Vwip_. The knife is gone somewhere into the soft cavity under the Deadpool costume, and Guy is now attached to Jesse by a rope "FUCKING CHRIST -" shrills the priest.
"It is a celebration, Jian," Tessa offers to Jianli's quiet musings with a reassuring smile. For now, the raven-haired Purified stays where she is at the deck by Tavi, one hand holding her champagne flute, the other crossed under her breasts to rest on her opposite elbow. She watches from relatively close proximity despite the inherent dangers of doing so, apparently engrossed by their flailing. "Do not worry. I doubt things will escalate that severely. Still... it looks like first blood may have been drawn. Mm. They're learning quite quickly." The dark-haired woman turns to Tavi for a moment, her sarong rustling in the breeze before she smiles, faintly. "I am glad to hear Godric has had such stalwart companions in his life. It is truly comforting to hear." She looks towards the dangerously inadvisable knife fight below. "And such lively ones, too. He truly has a beautiful taste in who he chooses as his friends."
Most present are old enough to know that face. The kind of polite absence that occurs when there's no easy comment that satisfies both courtesy and truthfulness. "Indeed," Tavi finally settles on, lifting his flute of champagne to Tessa. "You're too kind, really." HE winces a little at the blasphemy.
"Perhaps I am irritated because of how long it would take me to come back if someone fired a knife blade in this direction and I happened to look over to see the commotion" Jianli shrugs her shoulders then but she breathes a quiet sigh immediately afterward. "It is no matter, honestly. I am just being a bore. If they are enjoying themselves, let them. It is not as if they are risking their lives. Tessa, would you engage in a game like that? I am simply curious. Have you done anything suicidally dangerous just out of curiosity...?"
What did Jesse say about there being no rules? As his jet ski runs in an ever shortening circle on a collision course with Guy's, completely out of his control, he points at one of the bobbers as if trying to get its attention, and then he does a 'come at me brow' flick of his hand. Then he whips his arm as though he were going to throw something. The bobber shoots out of the water toward the pair of them, and attached to it the dripping wet blade. With an uncanny precision, the bobber smacks Guy in the face, the fishing line wraps around is neck, and the knife stabs him in the fleshy part of his arm. Just to add insult to injury. And injury to injury. Jesse pumps his fist in the air and shouts, "VIVA LA REVOLUCION!"
Howell leans out over the side of the boat, lifting up his sunglasses to squint at the awkward jet ski combat underway. "I never much enjoyed combat as a sport, personally. It just seems a bit garish, I guess, gaudy maybe." He thinks to himself also about how wantonly damaging his limbs would end up costing /other/ people their lives, which is even a touch too self-absorbed for Howell himself. "They do seem to be getting the hang of this, though." He turns to Jian. "For my part, I do plenty of suicidally dangerous things. But not for fun."
Ottaviano is watching the 'jousting' with his lips pressed together. Either to suppress horror or contain laughter. Or perhaps some of both. The brown eyes are very bright indeed, as he observes. "Now," he says, with a thread of laughter in his voice, "I see why Godric did not attend."
"Oh? I've always thought I was as kind as I ought to be, when I ought to be." There's a flash of a friendly smile for Tavi, before Tessa gently lays a hand on his shoulder. "If they can bring a charming man like you to pause, they are truly unique individuals, wouldn't you say?" Her serene voice is almost playful for a moment before her hand slips off, and she steps back. "Excuse me for just a moment, Mr. Sforza," she offers politely, bowing her head to the man with all due elegance before walking towards Jian. She very comfortably interposes herself between the smaller girl and the jetski combat below, sipping her champagne as she does, as if in a voiceless answer to the woman's shrugging worry. A small protection. "We all play games like this eventually. I have, myself. Sometimes out of curiosity, though when I was very young, and not with a knife. The methods available to me were more..." Her brows furrow, faintly. "... painful. Of late, these games we play are ones I have indulged in simply because there was no choice in the matter. It has been a while since I've engaged in such for sport. The curiosity inevitably fades." She looks back towards the calamity beyond -- and she can't help but allow herself a soft, brief laugh at Tavi's words. "It is likely for the best that he did not attend."
There is a slightly strangled noise from Guy, who is bleeding. Heavily. Everywhere. He has a knife in his stomach, and one stuck in his arm, and he should be going into shock. He should be dying. He should be...but he is upright. In pain, startled, and unpleased, but? Weirdly alive, despite all of this "--motherfucker fuck you you pestinal arse-wipe of a -" And the hand comes up, and gestures, and suddenly the tiny, newling spirit of Technology assaults Jesse's Jetski. The controls crunch into the 'on' position, and the wires spark, fritzing with their new order. Guy - or possibly Symbiote - cackles in glee.
Jesse's jet ski is tetherballing right for Guy's as is, and it's clear that Jesse did not have a plan for what would happen at this point. Now the thing speeds up and Jesse bails. Tries to bail. His foot gets caught. The jet ski flips violently, and he goes skipping across the ocean like a stone, fwip fwip fwip fwip. Bye bye, Jesse. Bye bye. He does stop. Eventually, and treads water, his head visible as a reddish round thing bobbing in the water way out there. The jet ski? It keeps going, only now it's fritzing out and bouncing on the water wildly. Less an oncoming missile of rotary blades and petrol and more like a fish on the line resisting the fisherman's pull. The water around Guy is turning red. The favorite color of sharks.
Howell saunters over to a couch that's built into the deck, under the ledge provided by the deck above it. He reaches down and pulls up the cushion, revealing that the couch is actually hollow, and the cushion is just a soft lid. "So... Do you guys... smoke?" He pulls out a fucking trash bag of weed. It must be four or five liters of reefer. Then he turns towards his other guest. "Because, I own a dispensary. A clinic too... and some other stuff. But. The dispensary, it's really quite the set up." The surgeon says with a grin.
Signor Sforza shows a notable lack of enthusiasm for the idea of jumping in to save either of the would be Deadpools. Look at them out there, failing to be his problem at all. Just look at them. "Is there any actual tobacco?" he inquires, turning from the clouds of blood in the water to give Howell that bright-eyed look.
Whap-whap-whap - the jetski zooms past, and drags Guy with it. He is not especially happy at being so dragged, given that it is doing him impressive amounts of internal injury "Ow ow ow - ow - whoa. I'm. Kind of tough, is that a broken bone - OW -". Now the two jetskis are circling around each other frantically. The rope runs taut and they crash with a huge -
No. There is no explosion. These are _jetskis_. Jesse's putters to a stop, offended by whatever damage Guy did to it spiritually. Guy's loops, and loops, and drags itself a bit closer to the ship, before crashing briefly against the side with a Howell-horrifying paint scratch. Guy is tied to his own Jetski and that suit is made out of neoprene, so it floats a little in the water. Guy himself appears to be face-down, bobbing, as somewhere out there? Blood spreads.
Jesse swims back toward the boat. This isn't the community pool. The waters are cold and the water is choppy. Still, he manages to get pointed in the right direction and in motion. At least he knows how to swim, if not drive a jetski or joust with a ballistic knife while doing so. He doesn't swim toward the ship at first. He swims toward the bobber he can see adrift in the water. Come back here, you. That blade belongs to Jesse. Does he notice Guy bobbing face down in the water? Does he just assume someone will save him? Jesse has faith in people. Ritter's too damn paranoid. In any case, he leaves his own trail of blood from his injury as he goes to retrieve the blades. Then he heads toward the boat. And his jetskis. "I bet you can hammer those dents out just fine," he says.
Jianli places a hand on Tessa's arm and slowly shakes her head. "You're not taking a flying knife or me. i am sure I could dodge it. I just..." She looks out to see the carnage being wrought by the jetskis and the blood spreading into the water. The woman sighs heavily and takes a deep breath. "Was worried about something like this." Jianli moves quickly.She's collecting rope, a life preserver which she throws out into the water, and then herself quickly lifting her gown. The woman's shoes go off and, seconds after this determination is made, Jianli leaps the side of the ship to land in a graceful, picture perfect dive and begin the process of retrieving Guy from the water. As Jesse passes all he gets is a venomous glare. If looks could kill he would be at ground zero of a nuclear blast. But he's right. Someone will rescue Guy.
"OH SON OF A BITCH, GUILLERMO YOU COCK-EYED LOBOTOMY PATIENT I SAID DON'T SCRATCH THE FUCKING YACHT!" Howell yells, dropping the bud and bounding to the railing again. "YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A FUCK UP TO BE CONSCIOUS WHEN I GIVE YOU THE BUSINESS! Fuck, jesus, alright." He sighs, pulling his sunglasses off and throwing them to the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose. "OSGOODE!" The surgeon yells back to the cabin. "One of these homos is bleeding in the water, get on your water wings and go hel-" Then Jian runs past and dives in. "... Nevermind. Keep working on the lemon squares. And get my bong." He says back to the cabin now, in a loud voice still.
That's when Tavi's courtier's reserve just cracks, and he dissolves into helpless, snorting, ungraceful laughter. Like a high school student. He still does not offer to help Jesse or Guy, nor does he run to Jian's assistance.
Guy does not weigh very much - he is a squirrelly little freak, but he is mostly sinew and bone. Jianli may have to unwind the ropes and cut Guy free, but he is relatively easy to rescue, if she is willing to use the ship's supplies to assist. There are likely ladders for Jesse to use, and even better, hooks and lines to help draw the broken jetskis back up. No harm, no foul - those lobster canapes are waiting. Guy looks pretty cold, and does not seem to be breathing, but he does still have a heart beat. Even if it is unpatterned and nervy. Blood is running out of his mouth. Sharks will soon be coming!
With the mask on, it's hard to discern Jesse's features. That alone might be unsettling to those who know him. So much of his communication comes from the expressions on his face, and now there are none. Still, one can hear the Deadpool in his Deadpool imitation. It's not bad. As he tells Jianli, "Don't make me send you to the Getalong Closet." The notices are posted for all to see, Jianli. Buzzkills get to go in for reprogramming. This is a society of laws. Not that Jesse can enforce them while he's still bleeding in the water, but he's got his knives and the jetskis aren't going anywhere. At all. For awhile. Nothing has been lost except several pints of blood. Everything is fine. He draws closer to the boat, and he doesn't see the dorsal fin. At least there's only one.
"We need the body so he can come back in a reasonable amount of time and effort, correct?" Jianli calls in a dispassionate tone. She looks around at herself, first to the shark then to the small man she is now dragging through the water. "I might have to deal with a shark first as well," the woman adds as a kick of her left leg propels her toward the ship. Jian is very competent but she's small. It's not *fast* going. Fairly average, really. Average is probably too slow.
Dr. Osgoode pokes his head out of the cabin. He's wearing a Hawaiian shirt, and an apron that says, 'Please don't kill me I just work here!' on it with a couple of flowers around it. Cute. "Oh uh yeah, they're almost done!" Then he disappears back inside for a moment, returning with a bong featuring Rasta colors all over it. He sets it on a table close to the cabin with a nod. Howell just picks up the bag of weed, and sets it on the table, sighing. He calls out over his shoulder. "Don't worry about blood on the deck, I got a specific finish done, just for that. Won't be a problem." He glances to Tavi. "No tobacco, sorry. Just reefer. The boys at the lab are calling it, 'Decapitated Mongol'. I have no idea why, but it's an indica, if you're into that sort of thing. It's a good, full body high." He beams.
Tavi makes a little moue of understanding, gestures as if to indicate he will graciously condescend to try it.
"Party favors, is it?" Tessa asks, looking at that bundle of weed curiously. "Quite the recommendation. I may yet take you up on that offer, doctor." She takes all of the craziness sprouting around her in what is probably disconcertingly good stride, head tilt in interest at all of it. "For now, however, I'd like to ensure that Jian is not eaten by a shark." With all that blood, it's a legitimate concern, and yet Tessa says it like she might be talking about the weather, offering Howell a polite smile and a nod of her head before moving back to the railing of the boat to check Jianli's progress and see if she's in need of assistance.
No one seems to really be helping Jianli, though sharks are not generally inclined to eat people. The fin swims past, a few times - there is a lot of blood in the water - and then Jesse feels something like a questing nose. The thing is that Immortal blood is _not_ edible. Not even remotely. And while the lady could probably do quite a lot to a shark, this one seems to be coursing between her and Jesse, attempting to work out what the weird blood-not-blood smell is. In all likelihood, Jianli will find she can make it.
Jesse calls over, "He does, I don't!" Then, "Shark?" He treads water as he looks around. Is that...? Fuuuu-- "Get him aboard!" he yells. "Just go!" Hey, he'll mortally wound Guy, but he won't leave him to the ocean floor to save himself. He does start swimming though, hard. It's not like he wants to get eaten by the shark.
"That's what I was afraid of," Jianli callsl back as Jesse responds to her question. She starts swimming harder. This is not an ideal situation by any means.She can't outswim a shark while carrying a nearly deceased body. Not by a long shot. Jianli is actually putting in a valiant effort, however. She withdraws her knife and holds it pressed against Guy's side. Just in case a shark comes close enough it's necessary. One probably will.
Howell shakes his head. He's not really worried about any of them being eaten by a shark. They'll just... regrow, or whatever. Magic. "It's pretty good. You wouldn't believe what we grow it with." He says with a smirk. "Anyways, I think they'll be fine." He starts pinching weed into the bong's piece. "You guys have to try Dr. Osgoode's lemon squares. Don't tell him I said this, but it's legitimately the only reason I keep him around anymore."
Poor shark. All he wanted was lunch. EVen as he's pondering the merits of the forms of cannabis on offer, Tavi's edging towards the rail. He doesn't leap into the water....but he's finally paying attention. As if deliberating whether or not he should contribute.
Jesse can't outswim a shark. He knows this. He tries, and yep, still can't outswim a shark. When the thing gains on him, he stops, treading as he thinks. Think think think-- He's seen Shark Week. He knows what to do! When the shark comes close, he grabs at its nose. Yeah, as the mouth is opening, and instead of stopping the shark, it just causes a collision that sends Jesse yet again skipping like a stone across the ocean. Bounce, ow. Bounce, ow. That looked easier on TV.
Guy is not doing anything. Doing anything would require someone with medical skills removing the knife in his stomach. However, people around him are doing things...hopefully someone is taking photos of Jesse at this point.
Howell sets down the bag and the bong and marches over to the railing. "Ok. Spongebob play time is over. Get on the yacht." He crosses his arms. But... his companions are awkwardly waffling with this shark. "Wha.. can you, seriously.. you guys." He shakes his head. Then he squints at the shark, and in just a few seconds the inside of that shark's skull rises in temperature by forty five degrees, causing it to stop swimming and thrash about uncontrollably for a few moments. The doctor maintains this temperature, and shortly, the animal expires. "See... that was a perfectly good shark, and I just had to kill it." No one really knows how that might've worked... can Howell kill things by looking at them? Technically.
Tessa debates the merits of trying to knife fight a shark rather seriously despite her lack of disposition for combat, but then Howell just goes and Scanners its brain or something. The black-haired woman watches the animal thrash, writhe, and then die with subdued interest, head tilt to the right. Her composure is just impeccable enough that her relief that Jian isn't eaten just shows in a tiny parting of her lips. "One of a kind indeed, Dr. Sinclaire," she compliments warmly, waiting until Jian's gotten Guy's body onto the boat before looking out over the waves for Jesse to see if he's been mauled badly enough to require a helping hand of his own. Sharks, mind melting, jetski battles. "This has been quite a good way to start a party," she decides, contentedly.
Flop goes Guy's body onto the deck. That costume is _ruined_. And by now? The shark is floating, dead. Shark does taste good. Can anyone here make sushi?
Jesse once again finds himself in a strange part of the ocean he did not intend to go to. He swims for the shore now, unpursued by a now dead shark. Poor thing was just trying to get a meal. Jesse now bleeds with impunity, all the way to the yacht until he finally gets to the ladder and climbs. Yeah, that wound wasn't bad at first, but it's still bleeding. There is no first aid in the briny deep. So he's a little paler than usual, and the climb is a little less steady than it could be. Finally, he rolls onto the deck, his Deadpool costume not in great shape either. "Do you yield," is says, breathless. Then he glances toward Guy and notices just how bad off he is. "Haha holy fuck does anyone know CPR?"
Howell rubs his temples for a minute, and then lets out an exhale. Then, he turns to Tessa, smiling politely. "Thank you, my dear. What can I say? I'm a self-made man, in every sense of the word." He is! Every ability he's got took decades to formulate or synthesize. Except the Olympian level physical traits, which were transplanted. He strolls back over to the bong and starts packing it again. "Well.. fucking duh, Jesse, there's like nine people on this ship that know how to perform CPR, and I could give the little guy an open heart quintuple bypass with one hand. But I'm busy with this bong. Just give him a bit, he'll shake it off. Do you smoke? I've never even asked. I smoked a lot when I lived in Haiti. Well, everyone there smokes. Anyhow, I'll have Osgoode get some towels." The surgeon says without looking back. "OSGOODE! GET THE FUZZY TOWELS! THE CUBAN IS BLEEDING ALL OVER THE FUCKING DECK!"
"Oh, dear," Tessa muses as Jesse finally rolls his way on board. She walks over to him, leaning down to peer. "You look like you've lost quite a bit of blood. Did the shark try to eat you? I imagine that would have been a patently unique experience." Tessa: focusing on the important things. Despite her words, she's still looking worried, crouching next to Jesse to consider his wounds. "Can you stand? I will help bring you to a chair of you require.The good doctor's staff can tend to your wounds, and Guillermo's." She looks to the bleeding not particularly well-off looking young man. "He looks in bad shape. That's unfortunate. He seemed to be looking forward to that kiss." She truly looks sympathetic. "Has he died since his turn?"
Jesse stares at Howell. And Tessa. "Why is no one stabilizing him?!" He waves away the consideration of his wound. "It's a bleeder, I can handle it. Someone be a doctor for fuck's sake! Coming back is a real dick punch!" Thus does Jesse explain the intricacies of a Purified's existence. As for himself, he concentrates, and the wound starts to close. Just enough so it stops bleeding. The blood loss he'll deal with later.
"Dr. Robert Osgoode isn't treating DOG. SHIT. Until those lemon squares are out of the oven." Howell replies to Tessa. "I'm sure he just needs a few minutes, self-repairing tissue, and all that. There's a surgical table below deck, and I have a few techs on hand but they're checking some old journals. I don't think we need to interrupt that to see to Guillermo, personally, not that I don't adore him. But this sort of thing won't keep him down." The surgeon continues, then lights the bong and takes a heavy rip, blowing it out of his nose, he turns to Jesse. "So... you don't smoke, or...?" He glances between Jesse and Guy, and then Osgoode comes out with two fluffy towels and a worried look.
Looking over at Guy, Tessa stands up. She moves over to the poor young man, kneeling next to him, now. She searches him over, and when her hand finds the knife, she grips the handle. "Apologies," she murmurs to the unconscious young man before moving to pull the knife out of him with a firm but steady hand.
Slluurrrp. It is a _horrible_ sound. Followed by the equally horrible sound of a sucking chest wound. Guy _breathes in_ suddenly "Huuurkk!" And he attempts to sit up, of all things "Hrrf!"
Jesse gets to his feet, and he's okay. For a guy who got stabbed, thrown by a jet ski, then by a shark. He gives Osgoode a shove toward Guy. "Go stop his fucking bleeding, Osgoode." Seriously, Osgoode. Does Jesse even have to tell you how to doctor now? Christ. He does the smart thing and stays out of the way. When Guy starts breathing, Jesse relaxes. Then says, "Hey asswipe, do you yield?"
Howell furrows his brows when Jesse shoves guy. That's HIS whipping boy. "Hey now, Jesse, don't push him. He's delicate." Then Guy sits up and the surgeon frowns. "Hey, you fucking goon, don't, hey don't sit up! Osgoode, handle this, but if you burn even one centimeter of those lemon squares I'm going to have you tree-sitting for a week, so help me god." He squints at Guy, as the lab tech tosses a blanket to Jesse, and then rushes over to kneel down next to Guy, wrapping a towel around him and leaning him back down. Howell takes another rip and sets the bong down. "You know, having my yacht scratched is starting to really dull my sparkle." Then, another sigh. "But, I think a lemon square will get me right." He nods to himself, making his way to sit back on the recliner and lean back, closing his eyes to sunbathe. He doesn't look to his guests when he makes a gesture with his hand. "Help yourselves to the weed, by the by, we've got more than enough."
As Guy starts to stand, Tessa puts a steadying hand on his shoulder to try to keep him in place. "Don't, my dear. You will aggravate your injuries and make it more of an inconvenience to recover." Pain, inconvenience, same thing. Tessa offers him a small smile, and a pat on the shoulder. "You were quite bold out there, from what I saw. Well attempted. Let the doctor's assistant tend to you." And here, she'll lean down to give the young man a little peck on the forehead before standing up and stepping aside for Osgoode to take over. And Jesse to lord over Guy. As he should. "A generous offer. I think I shall, this time." And with that, Tessa is making an elegant walk to that big bag of weed to roll herself an elegant joint and smoke it. Probably, it will be elegant toking.
Guy says "Hrchghhh!" to Jesse, but after a long moment or two, whatever is happening inside him? Starts to work. He does not know how to heal himself ;ike Jesse does, so someone is going to be bedbound the rest of the cruise. Instead, he just wheezes, and fin ally nods to Jesse. Guy puts a hand over his chest, and he says "Oh...oh! Osgoode! Hahaha hold my hand." Whatever _that_ means. Guy grimaces and then he says "Nothin' could dull your sparkle, Dr Alice Cooper Feed My Frankenstein." It _is_ taking him a long while to speak, and his breath is staggered, gasping "No, seriously, though, someone hold my hand, this h-hurts!" As Tessa kisses him, he grins, brilliantly. Even if it was on the forehead. What? A pretty girl did it willingly. For Guy, this is a big thing.
Jesse watches the baby Purified struggle. It's a nature documentary in the making. "Come on, tough guy. You feel what you're corpus is trying to do? Just give it a push. Burn it up, baby." It's just Essence. Maybe a spirit of What The Fuck Seriously will form from the shark's unfortunate demise and they can share it over champagne and bacon. "Osgoode, hold Guy's hand." Sorry, Howell. It's just so easy. He looks up at Howell and says, "I know what's going to help this party get back on track. Everyone in the Getalong Closet." He waits for Guy to get well enough to walk. No more bleeding, whatever severed tendons and whatnot knitting together again. Y'know. Stuff.
Dr. Osgoode holds Guy's hand, and leans in, whispering in his ear. "Hey... I'm just a biochemist. So just like, relax, ok." Then there's a dinging from the cabin. The oven! "Oh hey I gotta go they're done!" He starts to move, but Guy won't let go of his hand. Howell turns from his relaxed position to glare, and throws up his hands. "ROBERT! SQUARES! LEMON! OUT OF THE OVEN!" He yells. But the poor tech is trapped. Until Jesse gets people moving to the Getalong Closet and he scurries to the kitchen. Howell shakes his head more, but follow along with the rest of the group. He grabs a couple of lemon squares in the kitchen as they make their way to the utility closet which Jesse has repurposed, carrying his bong and the weed in the other hand.
And Guy actually _does_ what Jesse says. The sucking wound suddenly closes over - underneath. Sure, it still looks gory, but the fact is that dirt and champagne can no longer get in there "Rugh," he says thickly. Suddenly colour is coming back into his cheeks, and Guy then says "...this is just really. Fuck that feels weird." He turns his head, drops his voice, and whispers something into Osgoode's ear. Then? He is up and he is following Jesse, limping along. Fairly soon, he is not even bleeding "...Jesse?" he says awkwardly "This feels super weird. _Like, squirmy. Oh m...wait. Who has weed?"
"There we go," Jesse says. When the DING goes off, Jesse urges the trapped Osgoode, "Go! Go, go, go lemon bars." He slips an arm around Guy's waist to hold him up. Only after checking that his jetskis have in fact been broad aboard and his knives are accounted for does he head toward the Getalong Closet. In all fairness, it's not quite a utility closet. Just a small office or something similar. With a couch and a television. He snags a handful of bacon for the road. Then, with a sigh, some of that eggplant Parmesan stuff Guy likes. "It feels weird," he tells the little man. "But you're getting it. See? Now when the stakes are real, you'll know exactly what to do."
And so the group heads into the reprogramming room to take a breather, and most of that breather is pot smoke. With lemon bars, because it is not physically or spiritually possible to remain a buzzkill whilst in the possession of lemon bars. And booze. There's booze. The couch is cozy. There's room to stretch one's legs at least. On the television, Andrew W.K. gives various interviews and plays music. The man has a singular message: party. If you're in a good mood? Party. If you're in a bad mood? Party. Just... party, people. Be cool. Be mellow. Don't be that guy. Existence in all its mystery and greatness is about one thing: partying. Sometimes after a yacht gets scratched in a joust that grievously injures two jetskis not to mention their riders, and shark gives its life, one needs to be reminded of why they're here. Why anyone is here.