[002. basco] when the tomato goes off to sulk;

[outofmykitchen]

[This is the scene that you stumble across when you make your way down to the wreck of the Free Joker: Basco is leaning his head against a fisted hand as a giant space monkey entertains him with antics.]

A canyon? [Basco's elbows are on his knees as he leans forward to decipher his companion's gestures.] No? A cliff then? No? [Laughter as the monkey squeaks out a protest that oddly enough looks like: NO. WRONG. SO WRONG. SO FAR FROM WHAT I WANTED TO SAY.]

[And then maybe you notice that Basco doesn't look so pissed off anymore. Not like earlier during an exceptionally volatile argument with Marvelous ended with him marching out of the galleon in a huff.

You watch him reach a hand out towards the creature; the way it tilts it's head, tentatively approaching until it mimics the gesture.]

Comments

[outofmykitchen]

[It's the way Sid Bamick unconsciously traces his fingers over those odd metal veins that Basco notes first and foremost. He'd wondered about those the day he'd accidentally discovered that the serum dear Joeface had been emoing over for a good several weeks had kicked in a little late.

It had been a real surprise to find that Special Duty Officer Sid Bamick had been alive beneath that metal shell -- albeit changed in ways that Basco can't help but wonder sometimes... if you know, it bothers Joe at all.

He remembers that the evening of that same day he'd managed to get the Joker airborne. It had been something of a confidence boost, to know that he a had a ship practically falling apart waiting for him outside while he stepped back onto the galleon to declare that if Joe didn't extract his "fat sempai" off his ship then he'd have no choice but to chuck the unconscious man off starboard.

Basco hadn't meant a word of it. Not really. Tending to Sid Bamick had made him think too much on old and buried things. And even if he was still smarting over the fact that Marvelous was looking at him with a gaze that regarded him a stranger and not his brother-in-arms, Basco wasn't that insensitive. Besides, he knew very well that if Gibken found him keeping the older man a secret tucked away in the Joker, they'd have no choice but to put to the test who of them was better with a knife.

Besides. Bamick had been bleeding all over what little upholstery was left on the heap. Blood was very difficult to wash off.]

I'm fine. [Sally's got her stubby fingers around his wrist, but Basco pats her on the shoulder; permission for her to retreat. It hasn't escaped his notice, the way she seems nervous around the other man. As though something of Bamick's former incarnation lingers enough for her to pay attention in fear.] I'd offer you a seat, but [he gestures lamely] as you can see, there's not much by way of furniture.

[handsomesempai]

[Okay, now they’re getting somewhere. It takes Sid by surprise, a bit, but Basco’s response has oddly enough put him in familiar territory - it’s exactly the kind of thing Joe would say. “I’m fine,” in Sid’s experience, often means “I’m not fine, but I don’t want to talk about it.” Which means there’s not a lot of point in pushing any more on that subject, at least for now.

And the way Basco changes the subject as his giant space monkey companion leaves the room all but confirms it.

Sid looks around the room again, noting that yes, there does seem to be something of a lack of furniture. The lighting is poor, probably still would be even if half the light fixtures weren’t broken. The walls are cold, bare metal, hardly any different from the floor. It all feels very familiar, and not in a good way. He feels his stomach turning a little. He’s spent years of his life - some of which he doesn’t even remember - in ships much like this one. The differences in the hull structure, easily recognizable even as derelict as the Joker is, identify it plainly as a privateer ship, but those were never that much different from the military models on the inside. Sid could probably identify the original model, not just the series name but the specific model number, the production run, and the hangar where it had been built, if he really cared to. As it is he recalls more things than he’d care to, unwanted information about the intended crew size and weapons capabilities of a ship like this, what sort of holding cells it has, and what those cells look like from the inside.

He shudders and forces the thought from his mind.]

I have to say, it doesn’t seem like the most comfortable place. Do you come here a lot?

[Because, really, Sid can’t imagine how anyone would feel comfortable in a place like this, with the aura of Zangyack everywhere, impossible to ignore.]