simplestgift | Twenty-Eight Bells: [VOICE/ACTION(ish)]

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Twenty-Eight Bells: [VOICE/ACTION(ish)]

[It's around ten or eleven at night when the transmission begins. Two voices, Kennedy and Bush, are sounding decidedly sloshed. They are, in fact, sitting at the bar in Good Spirits, because how often do you get to introduce someone to Romulan ale twice and see their reaction the second time like it had never happened before? Only if said person went home and came back and doesn't remember the first time. Due to this, Kennedy sounds considerably more sober.]

Your attention, everyone. Mr. Bush has something he would like to say.

Yes, yes I would.....What was it again Kennededy?

Begin with "my profoundest apologies." And-and end with...with the hair thing.

Ah! Right, right. *ahem* My sensherest apologies to the ladies of Lusheti....I like all of you and your is - hair - is very pretty.

Nunno, William, it's...the envy bit, that was nice. Do add that in.

I envy all of your hair.

And how silly a man are you?

Extremely, Kennedy. Siller man there ever was.

Now recite an appropriate verse.

Help me think of one.

What about, "O woe! O woeful, woeful, woeful day!"

It is.

And...why is that, Mr. Bush?

Hm?

Why is it a woeful, woeful, woeful day?

This isn't England and there's no naaavy. Missthenavy.

And...that's the only reason you insulted the crew, isn't it? Just want things to be like they are at home?

Mmhm.

...Do you need a bucket to vomit into?

Please.

[OOC: This is a joint post with

wouldntbetonit]

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[You may never have seen a lieutenant turn this red, Elizabeth.]

[She chuckles and takes another drink from her ale. She feels badly that he is so embarrassed, but she also cannot help being amused at it.]

I did not think you truly meant it in that way. Forgive me.

[No no, Elizabeth. His life is ruined. He has one elbow on the bar now and is hiding behind his hand.]

Forgive me.

Nonsense! There is no reason to! I am not offended in the least.

[She places a bold but gentle hand on his shoulder.]

[He peers at her through his fingers, then lowers his hand stiffly.]

Next time, perhaps less whiskey.

Or perhaps I should have joined earlier.

[The poor man! She hadn't meant to make him feel so terribly.]

I'm afraid we were even worse earlier.

I have enjoyed company still that has been far worse, Lieutenant! Do not be so hard on yourself. [She finishes her ale and considers whether or not to move on to rum.]

[A weak, somewhat relieved smile. After a moment he glances into his glass.] I beg your pardon. You are a sailor--I shouldn't underestimate you so.

And yet you have not seen me sail.

[It's a lighthearted way to try and make him feel better.]

...You're a lady. A pirate, perhaps, but a lady more so.

I should like to think so, though I am not entirely certain that is the case.

[And with that, she places her order for a pour of rum.]

[Is the rum to prove a point? Maybe.]

On the contrary, the more like a sailor you act, the more of a lady you become to me. You're never uncouth, always bright, and behave with unparalleled elegance. The rum, see, the rum might make another man hesitate, but I believe it only shows you are very enriched, experienced, and unafraid to be a free individual. And freedom, you should know, is what a Scot prizes above all.

[For a man with too much whiskey--by his account--he flatters very well. Elizabeth's cheeks tinge slightly with pink.]

I am no scoundrel, yet I do value freedom more than most things. That is what a ship represents, isn't it?

Not in the Navy, I'm afraid.

[A beat.]

Well, yes it does, in fact. Even in the Navy. Only...on a grander scale than a pirate ship, I suppose.

What makes it so grand in the service?

[She's always wanted to know.]

It's someone else's freedom one fights for.

[It's spoken quietly because he's just now realizing it. The Navy, especially in Horatio's time, stood between a tyrant and the rest of Europe.]

That is something I can admire without question.

[It is as if he's stated something she has always known, yet never thought of. Admitting her admiration for it aloud is warming. Perhaps that was why, as a child, she found herself enamoured with the men in navy coats, laden with gold braid.

Then, her adolescent mind set on the romanticised tales of what Joshamee Gibbs told her when he was a naval man himself. After that, she was enamoured by pirates, the sea a thrilling place of adventure she thought she'd never touch, despite being drawn to it like the tide to the moon.

Now she is her own hurricane. She drinks and smiles toward Archie Kennedy, finding herself enthralled by who he is, drawn to his navy coat and gentle soul.]

You are a good man to see it that way, Lieutenant.

Edited 2012-02-14 18:59 (UTC)

Or a naive one. [Archie peers into his glass of orange juice.] The Navy eats its own children alive, supposedly as a way to sustain itself in order to save other children. Though that isn't entirely fair of me, I suppose.

For what it stands for, no. It isn't entirely fair. Though I hold no judgement against you for you thinking so, and I might agree with you as well.

[He sighs.] The Navy. It's a good thing. Not all men within it are good, but it is good.

As most things are. Piracy, being a dishonourable thing, has its share of good souls. The navy, being a good thing, has some less than honourable souls. Good people do terrible things, and sometimes the worst people can have moments of goodness in them.

[A smile, then another drink.] If it were otherwise, we'd have nothing to fight for.

[He raises his glass to that.] Hear hear. [A sip.] And what do you fight for, Miss Swann?

[She replies without thought, raising her own.]

For the people I love, and their freedom as well as my own.

[He raises his own again.] Then whatever we call ourselves, we fight for the same thing. [A beat.] And, I suppose, for the people we do not love as well.

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