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

[patheticvillain]

Mm, only sometimes. When the doorstep is especially tempting.

[He pushes the half-empty box across the table with one finger.]

And then I give the doorstep a gift, because I'm a mysterious and fickle young man, full of whims. Happy birthday.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason's entire demeanor changes, as he gratefully scoops up the box and tilts his head back, downing the rest of it in record time. Man, is he ever hungry]


Aaaaaahhh.


[He opens and closes his mouth, smacking his teeth against the marshmallows]

Aumn nahm nahm. Nahm. That is good. That is delicious.

Marshmallows are the perfect little food.

[patheticvillain]

[God, that's gross. It's like watching a garbage disposal in action, only it's full of teeth and marshmallow pieces. Cassel makes a face.]

Well, I'm freaking delighted, then. I mean, you're not wrong. But. Eugh.

You're such a weirdo. When's the last time you even ate?

[maced_eggs]

[sticking his tongue inside the box, Mason wiggles it around to catch the last bits of pasty sugar from around the plastic bag]

Dunno. Pro'bly somewhere around last night, or last...morning, or something. I know I was in der fucking Waffle Haus but...


[He pauses, setting down the box, and looks deadly serious at Cassel, leaning forward to speak to him in a low tone]

Cassel.


It has recently come to my attention that I seem to have misplaced my trousers.


And I don't know what to do.

[patheticvillain]

[Why is he sitting with a man who is French kissing a cereal box. Cassel does not understand his life or his choices.]

[He stares at Mason with exhausted eyes. He needs coffee.]

I told you that, like, ten minutes ago.

I don't know. Go to your cabin and see if there are pants there? Or steal someone else's pants, since you love stealing stuff, apparently.

[maced_eggs]

[cringing down, Mason rubs at his throat, hugely embarrassed. He glances around to make sure he's not being stared at, before leaning over to whisper in Cassel's ear]

I don't remember which one's my cabin.

Can't you give me yours to borrow? Just for a bit? It's bloody cold in here.

[patheticvillain]

[Making a face, Cassel pushes Mason away by the forehead.]

I don't know, what do I get for it? That's assuming they even fit you, which, I don't know. You're taller than me.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason goes along with the head-push, setting his chin down on his forearms]

I will give you...my eternal gratitude.

And...be your slave for a day. Or somefink.

And I'll do my very best to get you laid by whatever passes for a girl on this fuckin' ship.

Please. I really do want pants.

[patheticvillain]

[Cassel laughs out loud, delighted despite himself, and shoves the remainder of his food aside.]

"Whatever passes for a girl," are you real? I don't want your help if that's what it sounds like.

Get up, dude, we're getting you some pants.

[maced_eggs]

Yes! Thank you. Thank you thank you.

[Mason climbs to his feet, grinning despite being almost totally naked]

Pants. Yes. Let's go. On our way. To the pants.

[patheticvillain]

Down the yellow brick road. Or fucking something.

[Cupping his hands around his mouth, Cassel hollers ahead of them to make way through the dining hall:] Half-naked asshole coming through! Get out of the way if you don't want to see some half-naked asshole!

[maced_eggs]

Ghh ghh ghh ghh!

[Mason makes frantic, alarmed noises, reaching around and actually picking up Cassel, one arm around his chest and the other covering his mouth.]

No no. No. We do not call attention to ourselves. You pissy little-!

[patheticvillain]

[Cassel scrambles to regain control, kicking out at random in the beginnings of a panic and then remembering himself. He strikes out at Mason's chin with the heel of his hand and then kicks at his shin. Put him down.]

[maced_eggs]

Augh!

[When he's hit, Mason immediately lets go, rubbing his chin with a wince]

You fuckin' wriggler!

Ow.

Ow ow.



....Ow.

Why is the pain not going away?

[patheticvillain]

[Hitting the floor hard with both feet, Cassel pulls himself upright and scowls.]

Because the afterlife sucks. Get used to it.

Seriously. Truce? I won't yell anymore, but don't fucking touch me.

[maced_eggs]

[Mason is still rubbing his chin, looking severely distressed]

I know the afterlife sucks, Cassel. I am well-aware of this fact.

Why is the pain not going away?

[patheticvillain]

What, is it supposed to? It never went away for me. I'm barely over my last death toll.

What the fuck do you know about the afterlife anyway? Stop whining, I didn't even hit that hard.

[maced_eggs]

The fuck do I know about the-I am dead. I have been dead for a very, very long time and in all that time the one good thing about being dead is that I didn't have to deal with fucking ever-lasting pain!

[patheticvillain]

It's not everlasting. Jesus. You're the whiniest guy, I swear . . .

It'll go away in a couple minutes. Like when you were alive. Shit hurts and then it goes away and you're fine. You just learn your lesson not to lift people up, because that's rude as hell.

[maced_eggs]

Shit hurts? You're telling me that shit fucking hurts!

God....damn it. Whassis mean, then? I'm not immortal any more? I can die?

[patheticvillain]

Dude, I don't know, probably. But you'll come back. That's what the death toll's about.

. . . You scared? [Because he looks kind of scared. And annoyed. Scared/annoyed/stupid.]

[maced_eggs]

The what? Whassa death toll?

No.

[nervous, side laughter]

N-no. What do I have to be scared of, then? Nothing! Thasswhot.

[patheticvillain]

It's what happens after you die. You come back and feel like shit for a while, that's all.

[Yeah, that's all. The look he gives Mason isn't quite sympathetic, but it's a lot closer than anything else so far.]

Right. Nothing. This place is a party.

C'mon. I'll explain it when we get some pants on you. Move it.

[maced_eggs]

I'm thinking I feel like shit right now.

[Mason, giving a sheepish grin, lets himself be corralled into getting pants]

You strike a very hard bargain, Cassel. Casselle. Cassel or Casselle?

[patheticvillain]

[When they get to Cassel's room, he digs through his messy dressers until he pulls out a pair of pants that look like they'll more or less fit Mason, then tosses them over his shoulder blindly.]

You seem like the kind of guy who says he feels like shit all the time just to get sympathy. No offense. [Okay, maybe some offense.]

I don't give a shit. Call me whatever.