Post-It: ETD 00:02am

[maced_eggs]

[Sitting in someone else's cabin wearing someone else's stolen leather pants is Mason, playing with a stolen mess hall fork. Either he can't remember where he lives or he just straight up has difficulty caring]

So wait.



I'm a pris'ner.


But I don't have to work.

And I get free food and my own bed.

And no one's fuckin' yelling at me to pay rent. An' I'm basically on a cruise line with a spa and a pool and pretty girls.


Honestly, I'm struggling to find a downside. Isreally hard.

Comments

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason glances up, then looks around the room innocently like anyone else would have been caught doing the same thing]

Can't be sure. I've got someone else claiming they're his pants. How many leather trousers can there possibly be on one ship?

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

[What the hell is this innocent act?]

Mason, not that you wearing pants this time isn't an improvement but...those are my pants, and I'm not letting you keep them.

You can get clothes for free here, there's no reason to steal mine. They don't even fit you right.

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

I did get these clothes for free. Don't they work the same as food? Where you go in and you pick what you like an' no one charges you?

...But you're right, they are a bit too roomy. Got suspenders?

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

The dining hall is public! These are my private quarters. Nothing in this room is up for grabs. That's including my clothes.

Now, do not make me come over there and take them back. I don't feel like explaining myself to the other Wardens.

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

What about the laundry room? That's public. What if I find clothes there?

[Mason shrinks down in Crichton's chair, perplexed]

The door was unlocked.

Or, well, it was locked, but I thought it was mine and I'd forgotten my key.

[He may or may not be guiltily reaching over to pocket his lockpick, currently set on top of the desk]

Look, I'll make it up to you. Soon as I have money again, I'll pay you for the pants.

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

You're completely missing the concept of personal property, aren't you? The laundry room is not a thrift store, and I never said I wanted to sell you my pants. I wouldn't want your money, even if I thought you'd ever have any. I want my pants back. Thanks to you, I'm gonna have to wash them again.

[He crosses the room quickly to make a play for grabbing that lockpick.]

What is wrong with you?! Are you too cross-eyed to even remember what your own room looks like? This stuff isn't even human in origin. You didn't think that was weird?

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason opens his mouth to object, but he's too slow and dumb to make a grab for the lockpick, and only looks further disheartened as it disappears into Crichton's hand]

I did think they felt a bit funny around the package, come to think of it...

[He gets up, edging his way to the door]

That's a fair trade, isn't it? Lockpick for pants. Okay. Okay, I'm off. I'll try to find my room. My real room. I do have one, right?

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

Oh no you don't!

[Crichton is up and moving after him.]

You can have this back when I get my pants back. That's the deal.

[So help him, he will rip those pants right off you. He's already seen what's underneath. It ain't gonna be a surprise.]

If you make me do it myself you aren't getting either, you hear?! You got three seconds. 1..2...

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[startled when he finds out he's being chased, Mason hastily backs away. Years of running from the cops, while it hasn't made him smarter, has ingrained in him a fine flight-or-flight-or-yes-totally-flight response system]

Okay, okay, look, I didn't want to do this, but I am a dangerous fucking fellow, you understand me? With one touch I could rip your soul clean out of your body!


Please let me keep the pants. They're so comfy and warm. And they squeak when I...

[Yes he is wriggling his buttcheeks back and forth, making a squeaky leather-on-leather sound. With Crichton's pants]

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

Would you stop doing that! For the love of...GIMME THOSE PANTS.

[Crichton can be dangerous too, when he wants to be. You've pushed him too far now. He leaps at Mason making a grab for his leather prize.]

I will get these back if it's the last thing I do!

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[With an involuntary squeal, Mason dodges and bolts for the door, running for his life and for the liberation of leather pants everywhere]

No you fuckin' won't, mate! Piss off!

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

[Crichton recovers from the miss fast, and sprints after Mason out into the hall. Now, you pissed him off. Crichton's right on him, when he gets close enough, he'll go for the tackle.]

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[And the connect is good! Mason is hit from behind before he can even mange to get a lead, and goes sprawling on the floor on his front, yelping.

Crichton unfortunately gets the above view for his troubles, but the pants are, for now, rescued]

[Spam]

[neverfeltbetter]

Aw, man. Come on!

[He makes a face at the price of his victory. He never wanted to get this close and personal. But, at least he has his pants back. And, just to keep this from happening again, he's pocketing the lockpick. He did warn the man.]

[Spam]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason remains on the floor, disparaged, but he does roll over on his side, squinting up at Crichton and fruitlessly stretching out a hand]


But my pants...

[Spamjack]

[routemistress]

[All this commotion is happening right outside Iris' door, and she's not the girl to ignore a scene, ever.

Not that she's going to interfere, once she sees what's going down. Well, coming down and coming off. She just stands there with her drink in hand, enjoying the show.]

And this is why we don't steal trousers, Mason lovey. You got lucky, I could name at least three folk 'ere'd disembowel you for that.

[Spamjack]

[maced_eggs]

[The most pathetic looking face turns to Iris, as Mason sits up, hugging his very cold knees]

Disemboweling's no fun. Not fun to watch, not fun to have happen.

What am I supposed to do with no pants, then?

[Spamjack]

[neverfeltbetter]

You'll have to figure that out on your own time.

[Crichton gets up and dusts off his knees. Just great, they have an audience.]

Hey Iris, hope you enjoyed the show. There better not be an encore. You got me Mason?

[He's not going to say he's sorry for this one. No sir. He folds the pants over one arm and turns on his heal, heading right back to his room.]

He's all yours.

[Spamjack]

[routemistress]

[Iris knocks back the rest of her tequila to smother the giggles, and goes to help Mason up off the floor.]

Come on, petal. Let's find your cabin, get your own clothes on you and then I'll sort you out with a dogtag so you can find it next time.

[She wrinkles her nose a little at close quarters.]

...Maybe by way of the showers?

[Spamjack]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason is docile, led along easily by Iris although he's shivering a bit and looking extremely put out at being pantsless, again]

Those were very good pants. I liked them.

Do you think I have a pair like them in my room?

[Spamjack]

[routemistress]

They are. I've noticed 'em on John a lot.

[That man has an exquisite backside. She disappears briefly back into her own cabin and comes back with one of her own enormous cerise bathtowels; that will keep Mason warmer till she decants him into his room.]

If you don't, petal, your Auntie Iris will get you your own pair. With nametapes. 'Ere, wrap this round you. I'll show you the showers first and then we'll look for your own room.

[Spamjack]

[maced_eggs]

[With no shame or complaint regarding the particular color of the bath towel, Mason happily takes it and ties it twice around his waist in a flattering skirt, hands on his hips]

...They've got showers here? On the ship?

[He's already been here a week.]

[Spamjack]

[routemistress]

We 'ave. And a spa and a swimming pool. And a bunch of people with genetically enhanced super smellers, so I want you to 'ave a good wash before one of 'em bundles you in by force. It's 'appened before.

[The inmate showers, let Auntie Iris show you them.]

'Ere we are. Doesn't look like anyone else is using 'em right now - get in there and don't let me see you again till you're clean.

[She'll be waiting outside. Texting the Admiral to find out where he's supposed to be living.]

[Spamjack]

[maced_eggs]

[If there was ever hope of convincing Mason to graduate and go home, the inclusion of free spa and swimming pool make it virtually impossible. He grins, leaning in to observe the showers, before turning back to Iris]

What d'you mean, clean. I'm clean! I'm very clean. I've scrubbed my ears an' everything.

[But he zooms in anyway, disappearing into the showers]