Post-It: ETD 00:04am

[maced_eggs]

[Video]

[Sometime shortly before lunch, an explosion of suds and soapy water escapes the laundry room, leaking out into the hallway. The immediate cause may or may not be Mason, who stands ankle-deep in the flood, missing his shirt and watching in horrified fixation as his own clothes not only wash themselves, but overload all the machines.]


This was not my fault.

...Honestly!!

But I should really like someone corporeal to come do my washing so that this does not happen again.

If anything, it's the Barge's fault for making its machines so bloody complicated. Who the fuck has ghosts doing their fuckin' laundry?

[He sits down in the suds, watching the self-washing laundry in perplexed hopelessness. Might as well take a bath while he's at it]

Comments

[fridgetothefire]

[Oh joy. Time to be head of maintenance, Anya.]

...I am seriously thinking about drafting you.

[maced_eggs]

Issnot fuckin' Vietnam, Anya love! There's too much water an' I don't know where it's all supposed to go.

I told you it wasn't my fault, they just took off like this!

[Spaaaaam]

[neverfeltbetter]

[Seeing the suds and water spilling down the hall, Crichton's already getting the feeling he's gonna be out of luck with the basketful of laundry he's bringing with him.]

Oh boy...

[Well, now he has to go see what's up. He pushes through the door to the laundry room and it is suddenly very apparent what's up.]

Mason?! What the hell man?!

[Why isn't he surprised? The guy is a walking disaster.]

What are you doing?!

[fridgetothefire]

It's my department.

[Serious business, Mason. Super serious.]

How did you even - uhg, just stay there. You're on clean-up once I get the pipes sorted.

[Spaaaaam]

[maced_eggs]

[Mason, lying flat on his back and ghosting his arms back and forth over the suds, sits up again at the call of his name. The entire back of his head is covered in soap now, and still behind him churns the laundry all on its own]

Having a bath.

What's it look like, Johnny? Your washing machines are too complicated for the general public.

[maced_eggs]

I don't think that's quite fair. You see, I didn't mean for this to happen. I can't be on clean-up, I don't know a thing about it.

[fridgetothefire]

It is precisely fair. It's certainly not anyone else's mess.

And you will learn. Fair warning, right now, the more trouble you give me over this the more likely it is that I'm gonna make you be my long term grout-scrubbing minion. I need one of those.

[maced_eggs]

I wasn't giving trouble. Was I giving trouble? No I wasn't.

This is soap-scudding slavery.

[fridgetothefire]

So it is. Welcome to prison.

[She shuts off the connection, changes into work clothes and grabs a trash bag and her tool box before heading down to the laundry room.]

[sickjoke]

For the love-- guess I should be glad the barge ate the tailoring nook.

[ Jack's yet to make his wishes so he's normal... for now. ]

You need a hand down there, sonny jim?

[maced_eggs]

[Prison has stopped being fun about five minutes ago for Mason. He sits on top of a washing machine, soaking wet, attempting to light his lighter. A potted plant of what is very clearly catnip sits next to him.

The machine next to him continues to churn out water and soap at a sluggish rate]

[maced_eggs]

I'm handling it. Doesn't it look like I'm handling it? Everything's under control.

[One of the machines belches soap behind him]

[sickjoke]

Right. On my way to help.

[ He's only a floor away, after all. ]

[maced_eggs]

Johnny's come, though. Johnny know what to do.

An' Iris was telling me I needed a bath. Killing two birds, one stone?

Though it's sort of a cruel metaphor when you think about it.

[sickjoke]

More hand's'll make light work.

John Crichton, right? Nice guy.

[ He's in the stairwell now. ]

[maced_eggs]

He is. Isn't he?

But sometimes I think he thinks I'm an idiot. I get that distinct impression.

[sickjoke]

Wonder why.

Almost there.

[maced_eggs]

That was not a kind thing.

[but here's Mason, sitting in water, shirtless, piling suds into his lap]

[sickjoke]

[ He should have brought his waders. As it is he toes out of his shoes, but leaves his black socks and slacks on. No need to bare skin. ]

[ He offered a hand to Mason. ]

C'mon, chum, let's get up and get this...what did you do, anyway?

[fridgetothefire]

[She surveys the disaster area with a sigh. She hates when magic messes with machines. But she gets an arm behind the machines and wrenches at the manual master shut-off valve, which mercifully seems to work.]

There are no laundry ghosts, by the way.

[She starts pulling his soping clothes into the trash bag, after examining them blood or unusual rips or any other anomalies.]

What in the world happened?

[maced_eggs]

[Like a curious child, Mason twists around to watch Anya without offering to help. He grins when the water shuts off, shaking his head like a wet dog.]

Iris had told me that I ought to be doing my laundry because I was starting to get a little ripe, yes? So I come down here and I'm thinking to myself how much easier it would be if laundry did itself instead of me having to do it and then...fucking hell. All this.

[The clothes are mercifully free of anything except dirt and water, but he still doesn't like to see them going in the trash]

Here, wait, don't throw them out, they're the only ones I've got-!

[maced_eggs]

[Mason's clothes are probably impossible to salvage now. He blinks up at Jack, reaching up to grasp his hand and pull himself back to his feet]

Me? I didn't do anything. Fucking Barge did this.

[sickjoke]

The barge washed your clothes? Without help?

[maced_eggs]

Why? Doesn't that happen here? It is a magic ship.

[Spaaaaam]

[neverfeltbetter]

Mason, you are not the general public.

[Seriously, a ten year old could figure out these machines faster. It's not that complicated.]

And, last I checked, this is not the shower room. Just look at this mess. We gotta do something about this. Come on, get up and help me.