ataraxion | (no subject)

[ Alright. He can totally do this without screwing it up.

Yeah.

Totally.

He fumbles around with it for a minute, hits a few buttons, and just sort of stares at the screen. It's dead silent on the video feed while he just sort of tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing in confusion. ]

Crap. It's on, isn't it?

[ Ah, shit.

He straightens the communicator out with one hand, uses the other to drag a hand down his face. Dean looks more exhausted than he has any right to, but he's been awake reading through his dad's journal and trying to get his hands on anything that could give him an inclination on how to get home or how he even got here. Unsuccessful, thus far.

Which brings him to this: stopping the whole anti-social thing. ]

So I guess some of you knew me when I was here before. But, uh, I don't exactly remember that. As a warning. So I guess reintroduce yourself, if you want.

[ A pause, because he forgot how bad he is at this crap. Dean's good for one-on-one, for hanging out and drinking a beer or two, not- Wait. ]

And before I make this any more stupidly awkward like a nerd at prom -- anyone up for a drink? Be a lot better at this after a couple.

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All I remember is you hitting on me. Nothing important. [ Shrug. ] Could use a drink, though you're probably out of luck if you want rum. The pirate hoards it.

[ going to another dimension - or another plane, in cordelia's case - and coming back home without her memories of anything, this pings so many things for cordelia that she can't not take interest. ]

Are you remembering anything about your past life on this ship? Being triggered by things?

What is "prom"?

[ Least relevant question. ]

I only met you once. And I don't drink, sorry.

[Pinged by drinks.]

You're welcome to join me.

[He lifts up his own glass of space booze he had been drinking.]

Yeah, I tend to do that. [ He shrugs, though. ] Can't afford to pick and choose my liquor when I'm on a spaceship.

Nah. S'all gone, not sure if it's a good thing or not.

[ Because on a whole, he's just sort of torn on if he wants to remember anything about this place or not. ]

Uh. This dance... thing. I dunno, I never went.

[ At least, not long enough to participate. ]

[Kirk regards this for a long few moments. their first interaction hadn't been.... well. he's not sure what to do with it, even at this point.

but if he's honest, he's not sure what's worse. pretending the guy doesn't exist, or trying to-- he's not sure. recreate what they had. which sounds so fucking sappy that he's positive he's not going to say it outloud.

so when he finally turns on the video, kirk sets down a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel's in front of the comm and turns the label toward the camera.]

I've got a bottle with your name on it.

[literally, though, across the label it says DEAN'S WHISKEY DO NOT DRINK THIS MEANS YOU in Dean's untidy scrawl.]

Not even leaving a name with that novel of a text?

You don't remember being here?

Have no idea what you're drinkin', but I'm not about to turn it down. Directions?

Nope.

Nothing at all?

[ Huh.

Dean doesn't say anything at first, because he still feels so fucking uneasy about everyone who seemingly knew him so well prior to his departure (and re-arrival). There's a certain guilt there that he can't really explain or give reason to, since it's not quite his fault, but. Still.

He rubs a hand across his mouth, torn. ]

It's weird but I feel like I should be apologizin'.

Nah. Other people say I've been here before, and they know too much for it to be bullshit. I just don't remember any of it.

Why wouldn't you remember being here before?

[This is distressing.]

Dunno. You're asking the wrong dude. I guess it happens sometimes, though. People disappear, come back a few jumps later, no memory.

[Ideally she'd like to examine him, but apparently that's not "blending in" if she asks.]

What's the last thing you remember?

Bein' home, then waking up in the tank here. Sums it up, I guess. Just like everyone else on this space boat.

That's not what I mean. What were you doing at home? I'm gathering information to see if there's a pattern.

[ A pause, 'cause he hasn't exactly been asked this yet. ]

Workin'. Cleaning crew.

You're a janitor.

Nah. Janitors work in like, crappy high schools. What I do is different.

You work in organized crime?

[She knows some slang. A little.]

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