Post-It: ETD 00:01am

[maced_eggs]

[Spam for the Dining Room, Morning]

[Last night, Mason, Grim Reaper, age 27 and dead for the last forty years, shucked off his muddy, blood-stained clothes and fell asleep on a couch in his Union Jack underwear.

This morning, Mason, still dead, wakes up on the Barge.

Mason's never been much of what anyone might call "consciously aware", or "observant." For example; he fails to observe he is not in his home when he wakes up. He fails to observe that all of his clothes have gone missing.

What he does observe is that he is bloody starving, and needs a very, very large breakfast to erase the nightmare of the day before. So after failing to observe that he is completely pantsless, Mason shuffles out of his room and off to find food.

Which is why, still half asleep and very nearly naked, is a man barging through the breakfast bar gathering up as many miniature cereal boxes in his arms as he possibly can. He doesn't merely stop when they're all gone: systematically, he goes around to every table he nears and plucks them from unsuspecting eaters when he guesses they're not looking.

Arms loaded with cereal, the mysterious, nearly naked man attempts to make a retreat.

He doesn't yet have the capacity to guess where he is at the moment, aside from the completely unhelpful "Not at home." But at least there will always be Fruit Loops.]

Comments

[maced_eggs]

[Reluctantly snatching up his only box he'd managed to hold onto, Mason follows after Gary, shivering a little in just his underoos]

Ooh, trespassing.

[this_corrosion]

Yeah, well, after indecent exposure it's really just a bonus for you.

[He swings around the doorframe to the lift, and punches the button to call it. Excessively.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason watches Gary press the button, raising his eyebrows and giggling at him]

Does that really make it go faster?

[this_corrosion]

Yeah.

[Of course it does. Idiot.

The door dings open and he strides inside. See? Lift is here already.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason follows after Gary easily, like a curious puppy]

Fair enough.

[this_corrosion]

[Gary lights a cig on the ride up in quick, practiced movements and talks around it. No smoke detectors anywhere on the ship, it's awesome.]

How'd you die, then?

[maced_eggs]

[Mason looks on in clear jealousy; he doesn't have any of those lying around, even though pills are more his thing]

...S'abit embarrassing.

Back in 1966, someone told me once that the more oxygen you've got flowing to your brain, the better the high.

So I figured there was a way to get even more oxygen going, right? An' I took this power drill, and I, uhm.

[he mimes drilling a hole. Into his own head]

[this_corrosion]

[For some reason, this startles a little cackle out of Gary. Also, no, these are his smokes, get your own you cereal thief.]

You fucked up. Oh, come on!

[The doors are only half-open when Gary shoots through the gap like he's been launched from a cannon.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason makes a face at Gary, flipping him off. But when the man runs through the elevator gap, he follows gladly, curious to find out just where the hell he is]

Oi! Wait up!

[this_corrosion]

[Gary waits up, indulgently, and then gestures to the wheeling cosmos over the rail and above them. Ta daaaa.]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason somehow manages to make it to Gary without looking at what's around him, panting as he gets closer]

Jesus, how about waiting up for a guy, yeah? You can't just-..

[and now he's catching sight of what's all around him.

And now he's dropping to his knees in shock.

And now he's grabbing for Gary's leg for purchase, feeling like everything is reeling around him]

[this_corrosion]

Ey.

[None of that, he's going to try to wiggle out of Mason's grip and inevitably end up overbalancing.]

Fucking-

[Thud.]

[maced_eggs]

[as Gary drops to the ground, Mason still hugs onto the man's leg, gaping out at the great beyond]


....Space.



We're in fucking space.

[this_corrosion]

Get off my leg, you poof.

[Gary grumbles, trying to lever himself back onto his feet.]

Told you we were in space, didn't I?

[maced_eggs]

[Nope, Mason is clinging and damn near about ready to sob]

We're in space. Holy fuckin' shite, we're in fuckin' outer space. I can't be here. I cannot legitimately be on this planet any longer. Oh god. I'm going to throw up.

[this_corrosion]

Jesus, mate.

[Ok, patting him on the shoulder gingerly is go. Clearly Gary is not going to be able to get up until this is done with.]

Just breathe, it's not as bad as all that.

[maced_eggs]

How the fuck can it not be that bad?! I'm not on fuckin' Earth any longer! I'm somewhere else! I can't be somewhere else, I don't know what the fuck I'm doing!


Please send me back. Please send me back to my lovely little blue planet. I'm begging. I will do...fuckin' anythin'.

[this_corrosion]

What, I don't fucking run this place, I'm stuck here like you are!

[maced_eggs]

How the fuck are we even breathing right now?! There's no...

[with the hand not hugging Gary's leg, Mason paws at the air, attempting to locate a forcefield]

[this_corrosion]

What're you doing now - stop that. I don't know, we just are. Why do you have to look a gift horse in the space bubble?

[maced_eggs]

[Making a distressed keen, Mason pulls his hand back to hug Gary's leg with both arms]

Make it fuckin' stop! Put the ground back!

[this_corrosion]

You're kind of embarrassing yourself at this point, you know. And me.

[maced_eggs]

Fuck off!

[but Mason reluctantly, slowly lets go of Gary's leg, sitting cross-legged on the deck gaping up at the stars]

Holy hell..

[this_corrosion]

Fuck you.

[Gary has elected to pretend he meant to be halfway lying down on the deck this whole time and stays there, smoking.]

So space does it for you but not being dead? S'weird.

[maced_eggs]

I've been dead since 1966, Gary, it's not fuckin' new to me.

This, though.

God, how does this not fuck with your head every time you step outside?!