savetheearth | [CLOSED] Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn

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[CLOSED] Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn

Who: Alan Hunter, Octavia Serket and Walter Price
What: Stuff. And things.
When: Tonight
Where: VEGAS, BABY!
Warnings: Uhhh. Underage drinking, irresponsible behaviour, teenagers getting into really stupid situations and making awful life choices. Like really super awful.

[ As far as Octavia is concerned, the best thing about not being a fugitive any more isn't getting to live at home. Or talk with her family. Or go out in public. It's being able to do ridiculously extravagant things with her fabulous riches. Like, for example, treating her boyfriend to an all-expenses paid trip to Las Vegas for the weekend. And dragging her BFF along too because why the fuck not. So look out, Las Vegas, Team Questionable Decisions are here!

And they've raided the hotel minibar.

And they're very, very drunk.

This can only end well. ]

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[ Vegas. Is. Amazing. Even if she wasn't more drunk than she has ever been in her entire life (and she is. She is very very drunk indeed), Octavia would be entranced by all the lights and sounds and shiny things and OH GOD THIS IS THE BEST PLACE EVER. She wants to go everywhere and do everything and...

...And her eyes settle on a shop with a very flashy neon sign in the window. She stares at it blearily for a few seconds before remembering that words are for reading, and the sign says... ]

Tattoo parlour?

[ MOTHER. OF. GOD. ]

Guys! Guys! I just had the actual most best idea I have ever had ever. Super best. Best.

[Alan, meanwhile, is clinging to Octavia somewhat like an oversized koala bear or baby Dave. Walking is currently way too difficult.

It takes him some time to register that he's been spoken to, and a couple seconds more to process the meaning of the words. But he does eventually get there.]

Holy shit that sounds awesome. I fucking love ideas.

[ It took a bit (okay, a LOT) of coaxing and there was tons of hand-wringing, but he's out here and he's as drunk as the other two. Perhaps even moreso, given his low tolerance. The buzz has killed his inner buzzkill and he's never felt better. He could conquer anything.

ANYTHING.

Which is why, when he notices what Tavia's looking at/implying, he doesn't shoot it down immediately. ]

Is it... tattoos?

[ . . . ]

It's tattoos, isn't it. We're gonna get tattoos.

[ Swaying as he makes that brilliant observation. Gravity is a mightier foe than usual. ]

[ She tries to whirl to face Walter, but with Alan clinging to her like some kind of anime-eyed limpet Octavia just. Kind of ends up wobbling a bit. ]

Oh em gee how did you know. Are you psychic? I'm supposed to be the one with the mind powers. Not you. Stop stealing my thingies, Wally. It's rude.

[ There is a lot of finger-pointing going on here. At least until she pokes Alan's forehead by accident and gets slightly distracted following it up with a poke to his nose, too.

Boop.

Boop de doop. ]

Meaning. Yeah let's get some motherfucking tattoos.

[The nosebooping is incredibly distracting. Alan blinks a lot at it and crunches his nose like a fukken adorable kitten or something. Ugh, Alan. Stop being a cutie while you're underage drunk and making terrible decisions.]

We should get, like. Matching ones. Because friendship. I fucking love friendship you guys.

Yeah!

[ HE COULD MOVE MOUNTAINS RIGHT NOW. A tattoo is NOTHING. And it really does seem like the best idea.

Enthusiasm is so contagious while under the influence. ]

But we have to agree, and. They have to... gotta be tasteful. If we're going to do it we have to be responsilble.

Responsible, schmesponsible. Tattoos are for people who don't give no shits about rules! Or resposnebsquirrelty!

[ She raises her fists in the air rebelliously. Before beinging them down to eye level to stare at them thoughtfully. ]

How about. "Alan" on my left knuckles and "Wally" on my right ones.

[ Wait shit. Too many letters. ]

..."Wall" on my right.

"Waly."

[ Alan gets a questioning look. HE'S THE ARTIST SURELY HE WILL HAVE GOOD, SENSIBLE, BADASS IDEAS???? ]

[VERY THOUGHTFULLY:]

You can't get "Wall." Walls suck. They close you in and shit. Like livestock.

You don't wanna be livestock, Octavia.

No, no. Nope. Names are awful ideas. And those are awful nicknames anyway, I -- 'm not a wall.

[ He says that slowly and deliberately to avoid slurring it, because it's very important that they know he's not, in fact, a wall. ]

We need... a design.

[ Holy shit, imagine if Walter was a wall. Please excuse Octavia while she forgets the business at hand and just imagines a wall with bright red hair. And a charming lil headband. And graffiti on it that looks like Wally's line thingies. And maybe with one of those whatsits draped on it. Um. A thingy... ]

Poncho!

[ YES. That's it. Redheaded wall with a poncho as a nod to past life shit. Do walls have past lives? Octavia doesn't know, but she's noting this down as a thing to investigate. Walls. But not the livestock kind. She doesn't wanna be livestock. Eww.

What were they talking about, again? Whatever. Ponchos are probably still relevant. Poncho is a great word. ]

Poncho.

[It is a great word.]

Ponnnnnncho.

That'd be a real crappy tattoo, though. Like. 'S just a piece of cloth. You gotta have more... more energy. An' stuff.

Poncho...

[ Said rather thoughtfully. An idea is penetrating the boozy fog in his head. ]

Hey! There's... there's an. A design on the poncho, you know. On the... not-invisible poncho.

[ BECAUSE THAT REQUIRES CLARIFICATION ]

It's like... [ And then he tries drawing it in the air a few times. This will surely paint a vivid image in their minds. ] That. Do you guys like that?

...Are you dancing at us. Because like. Dancing usually involves feet too. Not just wiggly hand shit. Look!

[ I HOPE ALAN CAN STAND ON HIS OWN FOR A MOMENT. Because Octavia is prising him off in order to demonstrate her moves. ]

But I guess my dancing wouldn't make a great tattoo. If we go with clothes then like. I could get my fangy M thing. Or my sun.

[ She's still dancing while mulling this over, jsyk. Enjoy that. ]

[He does manage to stay upright. Barely.]

Wow guys no. Nonono. We can't get a dancing tattoo. That's fucking ridicula...stuff.

[Trying to huddle them closer to him (and failing) because he has sage fucking wisdom to impart:]

Tattoos don't move.

They might. Somewhere. There's... there are a lot of worlds and stuff, apparently. Someone's probably got dancing tattoos.

[ ~LOGIC~ ]

But. Suns are nice. I vote sun.

Alan, you need to pick a thing. A clothes thing, maybe.

BATTERMAN LOGO ON YOUR CHEST.

[ Because what isn't thoroughly badass about that? Plus to show it off he'd have to take off his shirt. Octavia approves of this. Very, very much so. ]

Or thingy. Your jacket. Winglings. Then we'd both have wings! Except yours won't shit pixie dust down your back when they're hidden and shit.

[ She shrugs her shoulders, expelling sparkles from the back of her top to demonstrate. TRAGIC. ]

The wings of Freedom!

[You have to say it right, okay. It's a serious matter.]

Yeah, I like that. It would be cool. Like, like. Survey Corpse pride or something.

There! Then... we're good! Let's go!

[ He links arms with both of them and starts heading for the parlor, a skip in his step. Literally.

This is a dangerous situation to be in. The odds of them all getting tripped up have gone through the roof. ]

[ Very seriously: ]

We're not good.

We're the best.

[ TO THE LAND OF TERRIBLE CHOICES! PERMANENT REMINDERS OF THEIR STUPIDITY AWAIT. ]

Hells yeah we are.

[Unfortunately Alan seems to be unable to locate his legs. Tripping might very well ensue.]

[ An unspecified amount of time later - and with a mess of gauze and duct tape on the back of her neck - Octavia has stopped outside a casino with Her Boys (tm). They're all munching from a huge bag full of candy, because apparently eating sweet stuff after bleeding all over the place is a sensible thing to do.

Being drunk while you're getting a tattoo means it bleeds like a bitch. Who knew?

There are two Elvis impersonators outside the casino who appear to have gotten into an Elvis-off. One of them is allegedly nothing but a hound dog. The other is calling for a little less conversation and a little more action, please. ]

If they actually start fighting -

[ She rummages through the bag of candy, selecting a gummy worm and chomping its head off reflectively. ]

- I'm betting on the fat one. He looks, like. Punchier.

[Unlike the other two, Alan does not have any bandaging on him. Cheaty titan healing powers for the win.]

I dunno, the thin one looks more Elvis-y. So he's got spirit an' stuff.

[Digging out a fistful of candy indiscriminately and shoving it into his mouth.]

Mm miph mehs mph meh merhh.

[ Walter is only picking at the bag o'candy. Which is a shame because he needs something to absorb all the alcohol in his system.

He regards the Elvises (Elvi?) thoughtfully, scratching at the tape on his neck. Something you are definitely not supposed to do with a new tattoo. ]

I don't think they need to fight, they. They're both equally Elvis. They can... co-eggsist.

[ The letter X is stupid and should be banished from the alphabet. ]

Yes! Yes. Living in Elvis harmony. Falling in Elvis love. They could start a new Elvis species. A little. Lil town of Elvis guys. Having Elvis babies.

[ BACK INTO THE BAG O' SWEETS SHE GOES. Ooh, popping candy! ]

What a daring dream.

Mmpf- [SWALLOW]

-Nonononono. Guys. No. They can't have Elvis babies. They'd need to get...

[And just at that moment, he digs out a ring pop.

He stares at the ring pop.

This is destiny.]

Hey, Octavia. I got an idea.

Guys can't do the... [ VAGUE HAND GESTURES ] baby thing. They'd have to... I don't know. Adopt. Or something.

...but this, that. This is getting a little weird.

[ Walter catches a glimpse of the ring pop as he goes in for some more candy. Wow, he hasn't had one of those in years. He kind of hopes Alan's idea is to give him the ring pop but since he's addressing Octavia that's probably not the case. ]

Ideas are great. Super great. Like the tattoo idea, that was. An idea.

Unless the idea is pregnancy because I love you but I don't want Elvis babies, Alan. Wally will back me up, it's. No.

[ She is very, very serious about this. Ideas are wonderful. Elvis babies? Not so much. ]

It's not babies. I don't want Elvis babies either.

[He stares at the ring pop for a moment longer, then turns to stare at Octavia. Intensely. And a little blearily.]

Gimme your hand.

No Elvis babies, you're not even...

[ Wait. Something is happening. Something SERIOUS. ]

Alan, wh... what are you...

[ The realization is kind of starting to form, but it's not clicking together quite yet. ]

[ Octavia is experiencing no such realisations. She holds out her hand towards Alan with no level of ceremony or importance whatsoever. ]

Fnahaha. You asked for my hand!

[ And then she spots the ring pop. ]

Oh!

Oh gy mod.

[Alan is 100% serious. Still staring at Octavia, he takes her hand in his hand and holds the ring pop out in the other.]

Octavia.

Let's get married.

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[CLOSED] Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn

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