ataraxion | first bet [video]

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first bet [video]

[ At first there's no one visible on the feed at all - just a bad shakycam-esque view of a bar, the hand holding the device wavering badly. Empty or half-empty bottles are littered on the bar, and a photograph is propped up carefully against one of the empties. Eventually, the device's owner manages to figure it out, the camera view changing to show his face.

It's a wonder that the man is able to operate the comm device at all. He’s a mess; though he’s wearing the standard crew jumper, his hair is mussed and unwashed, and there are dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. More than that, though, is the fact that he's dead drunk - and he's clearly not a happy drunk. He's a big man, muscular, and the lines of his body are tense and hard, his expression just this side of angry.

This is not someone you want to meet in a dark alley, inebriated or no.

He focuses as best he can on the screen, scowling. It's difficult to operate, the tiny icons hard to pinpoint with his fingers. (He may have accidentally sent a few private and totally incomprehensible messages before managing to access the main network. Sorry about that.) ]

Gotta find her.

[ Right, the network...Booker's still not 100% sure about this thing. There's no wires hooked up to it, nothing to show how it's connected to anything at all, but hey, he's seen stranger stuff in the past week.

Might as well give it a shot. ]

Looking for a girl.

[ He smiles suddenly, all teeth and glittering eyes, and then laughs, dark and bitter. ]

Not gonna find her, though. She ain't here. She's back in the city, with him.

[ His face twists into an ugly expression, and he tightens his hand on his current bottle, lifting it to down half of it in one go. ]

But what the hell - I'm here, ain't I? Can't do much else but ask. So here's the deal. Anyone here knows where to find Elizabeth Comstock, you let me know.

I'll make it worth your while.

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[Oh wow this is sketchy. Chell does in fact happen to know Elizabeth but like hell she's telling this guy that.]

You're making it sound like this person has a reason to avoid you.

[ She hadn't seen anyone she knew (from that very, very limited list) at the last Jump and had therefore assumed, wrongly, that no one had arrived from Columbia. That voice, though... has her stopping short in her room, eyes widening suddenly, mouth opening, because--

Is he really here?

Elizabeth scrambles to bring up the video, though she doesn't exactly have a great grasp on the ship's technology, even after months aboard. As such, she misses bits and pieces of the message, taking from it that he's looking for her and that he's... unwell. Drinking? Tired, and... well, it's all very worrying. Deserving of finding him in person rather than working to send back a video that he might not be able to figure out, himself.

So, that in mind, the girl hurries off into the halls. She has to ask a few people about the location of "the bar," goes to a few that don't contain Booker DeWitt, gets a little lost in her frustrating journey to find the man. Someone helpfully points out which bar seems the most likely culprit based on what could be seen from the video feed, so she offers her thanks and heads off there.

Yes, it's a while after she'd like to have arrived, but Elizabeth does find her way to that same bar, hovering in the doorway, breathless. ]

Booker?

[ He squints, frowning, at the text, gives an offended huff, then painstakingly starts to pick out a response. ]

not fooling around here stop

need to find her stop

will pay for any information stop

[ Not that he has any money...but he'll figure that out later. ]

One. You don't have to write stop at the end of every sentence.
Two. Money is worthless here.
Three. Why are you looking for this person?

[ Eventually, the bartender had cut him off, but he'd put away an impressive amount of alcohol before that had happened - enough that by the time Elizabeth finally finds him, he's still recovering: quieter now, hunched over and brooding as he nurses the last few drops he can find from mostly-empty bottles rather than ranting and raving at the network.

He's still clearly not himself. Elizabeth would never have seen him like this, drunk and low and full of pain, and as stoic and standoffish - even occasionally frightening - as he'd been in Columbia, this Booker is a whole different animal. He's giving off a clear do not fuck with me vibe, and the barkeep and few other patrons are all giving him a wide berth. He's lost deep in his own thoughts, mentally castigating himself - he'd lost her, he'd sworn he wouldn't let Songbird take her back, she'd been so afraid she'd have rather died - and now he's who the hell knows where, miles and years away, with no hope of reaching her.

He'd broken his promise. She'd trusted him and he'd let her down. Booker DeWitt, career failure. She should never have put her faith in him...

But when he hears that voice, he looks up immediately, staring in disbelief at the door as his muddled mind slowly works to catch up. For a moment he doesn't even know how to react. ]

...Elizabeth?

its worthless until you dont have any

always someone willing to pay

[ He chuckles mirthlessly to himself. Why is he looking for her? Why isn't he... ]

its the job isnt it

bring us the girl and wipe away the debt

[ NO BOOKER NO this is not the time for irony ]

Never heard of her.

god fucking damn it

if you dont knw anything stop wasting my time

[Hmm, how to handle this. Right first, send a message to Elizabeth warning her of the creepy drunk guy. Second...]

You're wasting your own time. But here's some advice for free. Don't make posts drunk. Especially about someone you're looking for to settle a debt. People aren't objects.

you dont know anything about it

you dont know anything about her

i made a damn promise

Yes? Are you-- What happened to you?

[ She can hardly believe its him, but the relief at seeing her friend (?) and guardian is tempered by the confusing and almost startling scene before her. Some of the others in the bar glance at the two of them, concern writ clearly in their faces, but none speak up. "No, don't go near that man, he's incredibly drunk and raving about some girl."

Elizabeth instinctively reaches for her pinkie finger, fiddling with the thimble. ]

... Booker, I think you should come with me. I can help you if you aren't feeling well.

[ He's still staring, shellshocked. Elizabeth's wearing the same kind of nondescript jumpsuit as he is, no sign of her mother's dress anywhere, but other than that...she looks just the same. Even got the damn thimble on her finger.

She's here. She's really here.

He grabs for her arm, a little rougher than he might have if he'd had better fine muscle control. If he wasn't so drunk. He'd spent so much energy convincing himself that all hope was lost, even in the short time they'd been separated, that having her suddenly appear this way is difficult to take in. Maybe he's hallucinating. Maybe it's a trick, and Comstock is behind the whole thing. ]

Are you real?

[The face that appears on the comm device is not a pleasant looking one. Partly because the transmission from Booker woke him up when he accidentally rolled onto the device in his sleep and partly because he never looks truly pleasant. Yes he was sleeping and yes it's past noon. There's a scowl on the face and the blonde hair is a ridiculous mess.]

Look, not that your little love triangle isn't interesting, but maybe you shouldn't be trying to send messages when you're shitfaced.

Kind of a frat boy move if you ask me.

[Shut up Eiri like you have any room to talk]

Considering I don't even known where here is though, I doubt I'm gonna be of much help.

[And now he's suddenly smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer and eating a tiny cake at the same time where did those come from. But now that he's a little more awake, he's slightly intrigued. Not like there's much to interest him around here usually and a bored Eiri is an unhappy Eiri, so he latches onto the idea that something interesting might actually be happening, even if it means being...social.]

So this girl. "Elizabeth". What's the deal with her, exactly? You said she's with "him". Is this guy her lover and she's your wife or something?

[He says this with absolutely no sensitivity whatsoever.]

Woah dude.

You've seen better days.

[Also his voice sounds sort of like Rhys' own... you know, if Rhys were a 40 year old chain smoking alcoholic. Which he's not, so, you know... thank god for that.]

So like, how much cheddar are we talking here? Hundreds, thousands? Or are you more of a 'offering services' kinda guy?

[ It's a little startling to be suddenly grabbed; she isn't unused to it with Booker, considering he often pulls her out of the way of gunfire, tugs her hurriedly through an alley, had more or less carried her with one arm on the Sky Lines. Still, the motion is quick and she starts, eyes widening in pure reaction. ]

... Yes, of course-- I know this is all... well, confusing, but I can explain. You just need to sit down for a little while. Please.

[ His hand is much larger than her arm and with the way he's gripping it, unless he releases it soon, there may be bruises. ]

Booker, I need you to let go for right now. Can you walk?

[ He holds her for a second more before suddenly realizing how tight he's gripping her; with a jerk, he lets go, a flash of guilt crossing his face as he backs away. ]

I'm...I'm sorry.

[ For a moment he looks almost small, lost and staring at her as if he doesn't quite trust himself around her. Then he looks around, eyes fixing on the mess of bottles on the bar, her picture still leaning against one of them. ]

Shit.

[ He drags a hand through his hair, coming back to sobriety much faster than he'd like, unable to meet her eyes. He hadn't meant - he hadn't meant for her to see this, ever. ]

I - Jesus, I -

[ It's almost pathetic, really. He's at a loss for words, trying to move between Elizabeth and the bottles, to block her view, even though it's impossible, she's seen everything. ]

...I'm sorry.

[ He scowls back, just as unpleasant, but he also doesn't take particular offense to what the guy is saying. Mostly he's just annoyed, rolling his eyes at how dense this joker is. ]

It's not like that. And frankly, it's none of your damn business.

[ The sudden appearance of the cigarette and beer don't go unnoticed, and Booker frowns, not quite believing his eyes. He must have imagined it, looked away for a moment. It's not as if he's exactly firing on all cylinders right now; even he knows that much. ]

What's it to you, anyhow? Cause I'm pretty sure I asked for people who know something, and if that's not you...

[ texting is hard why ]

depends

what do you know

[Because Rhys is a dick and doesn't want to get punched if you recognize him later?]

Dunno. Maybe something, maybe nothing. [Spoiler alert: it's nothing.]

I'm good at finding people though and pretty soon I'm either gonna need a lot of money or a person who can do a lot of damage. I'm just going to hazard a guess here and say that you're more of the damage type of guy.

[Rhys, stop. Rhys, what are you going to do, are you going to take Booker back to Pandora with you in a suitcase? How are you going to do that, Rhys. How are you going to find this chick to begin with. What the fuck is your plan. You need to think these things through.]

[ There's a noticeable pause before the reply comes, even taking into account Booker's glacial texting speed. Rash offers of bribery aside, he's actually dead broke - all those silver eagles he'd collected are apparently back on the streets of Columbia somewhere. He'd figured he'd cross that bridge when he came to it, as much as he'd bothered to plan ahead at all.

But now this. The damage type of guy. That's him in a nutshell, whether he likes it or not, and while he's liking it less and less as time goes on, if it helps him find Elizabeth... ]

services

ill pay what it takes

[ For a moment, it seems that's all he has to say, and then: ]

i wont kill people who aint got it coming

[ He's got enough innocent blood on his hands, and then some. ]

"Worth your while"...? What is it you want with her?

[suspicious as fuck]

[ Okay. A dodgy-looking man is asking for Elizabeth. That's not suspicious at all. Fortescue can already feel her protective instincts going into over-drive, as she considers whether or not to reply. Finally, she does, because she'd rather get the full scoop on what... this man is after.

Make it worth someone's while? ]

Might I inquire as to why you'd like to find Elizabeth Comstock?

[ Since she's just asking for information, she keeps her voice even and her expression neutral — and uses Elizabeth's full name, as though she hasn't adopted Liz as something of her younger sister. ]

I don't know many people who don't have it coming.

[Okay, so maybe he doesn't know how to get back home and maybe having- what, a hitman? a glorified bouncer? a hunter, maybe?- in his debt is not the first thing he needs here, but Rhys isn't exactly stupid and he knows opportunities when they come knocking.

Not that this will probably pan out anyway. The drunk guy even said that she probably wasn't here, but- what the hell, it's something to do.]

Elizabeth, right? Anything else? Appearance, blood type, star sign, anything?

What's it to you?

You know anything or not?

[ A pause, and then Booker sends a picture - a poorly-taken snap of the picture he's got with him at the bar. It's dark and poorly framed, but visible enough, considering. ]

older than this now

short hair blue dress blue eyes

left pinky finger short wears a thimble over it

[ give him a sec while he finally bothers to figure out capital letters...]

i want her UNHARMED

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first bet [video]

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you are a gem

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[video] ahhh oh my god Booker <3

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[video] :D

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