[FINISHED / CLOSED]

[impavid]

Who: John Sheppard & OPEN
What: BEACH ADVENTURES and FIGHT CLUB and ALSO JOHN HAS A BOUNCER JOB IN OLYMPIA. AKA John loves the beach and also, masochism
When: First week or two of May
Where: Flona Cove & Olympia
Warning(s): People may enjoy the beach too much, or get punched a lot. TBA


Flona Cove Celebration
It's warm, the atmosphere is buzzy, and the sound of the ocean picks at something in John. A pang of longing, the seed of something he's denying. The reminder of waves lapping at the sides of Atlantis, the sea air. It reminds him, uneasily, that Atlantis is gone. That the whole of Lantea and New Lantea are probably both gone. That Rodney and Ronon and Teyla and everyone are... possibly on the ship, possibly gone. He'd seen Teyla's body, at least, in stasis -- but stasis doesn't mean anything. She's safe, but John has no idea if she'll ever wake up. If any of them will. John is dressed in knee-length shorts and an unbuttoned shirt, exploring the beach and also the range of drinks available. He looks at home, even if he doesn't quite feel it.

He spends a while watching the sunset down by the shoreline, eventually taking his shoes off and standing in the shallows trying to skip stones out along the water. He's not bad, and not opposed to company if anyone else wants to get their feet wet.

Later, once the festivities are more under way, John circulates to get a sense of who else is there. He basks in the heat of the bonfires, sitting beside one and poking it with a stick to see if he can make it flare or spark -- or maybe light the end of his stick so he can twirl it a little playfully. The sparks fan out from the end of the stick, and he just about manages it but let's not hurry into a career change. Any more of this, and he'll get burned.

Mostly, John hangs around where the drinks are coming from. He's an extreme sceptic when it comes to potions, eyeing them and warning people that reading the small print is probably advisable. He has little interest in drinking one, but is nosy enough to be curious over people who do. Does it work? Can they actually breathe water? He doesn't want to try, he just wants to see.

Eventually, he'll end up fairly drunk and patrol up and down the shoreline again for a quiet place to sit and stare into the dark ocean. It's a moody look, but he'll squint up at anyone who walks nearby and offer a smile. It's a nice night, after all, even if he's distanced himself away deliberately. He can't begrudge someone wanting to sit and watch the stars too.

Fight Club
Once John hears about the fight club, it's hard to press down on curiosity. After all, he's restless. He's been restless for weeks. Sure, a fight club isn't exactly a good and profitable way to spend your time but John has a streak of adrenaline junkie in him. It needs feeding somehow.

At first, once he hunts down the location he just sits watching. It's worth sizing up the kind of people here, after all. Is anyone at his level? Are they all better? Are they all novices? John has a lot of endurance in him, and he has a high pain tolerance -- but none of it is supernatural. He's still just a regular guy. Still, he watches with the air of someone spoiling for a fight. However casual he plays himself off, he's interested -- and anyone who lingers near him as he drinks will be prompted with questions eventually. Who do they think will win between those two? Do they come here a lot? Are they going to fight? He's still trying to decide if he's talking himself in to fighting or out of it.

Eventually, though, maybe after some coaxing or maybe just after a few drinks John will step up to fight someone. He has a cocky air of confidence about himself, but that may well be misplaced. Maybe you're going to fight him, in which case he's might be a little tougher than the cowlicks paint him. Maybe you're just watching, and wagering either on his side or against him. Either way, some of his match ups he'll win but at least one will end with having to tap out after being hit one too many times. He's definitely bleeding, which is... fine. He feels a little better for it. The problem, then, is limping his way home afterwards. It... may be worth trying to clean up first. Good thing there's an oceans worth of water nearby.

After being beaten up as much as he can take, John ends up standing in the shallows again trying to clean up blood from his face and some of his clothes. A damp shirt doesn't matter so much, and cold salt water helps with blood stains. The only thing is he might look a bit odd if anyone catches him like this, wincing as he tries to put pressure on some cuts and wring out his shirt.

Shades Darker
Between everything else, John also needs a job if he's ever going to get either a better place or at least some better things of his own. That job, for the moment, is bouncer.

He's not exactly a wall of muscle, but John is still intimidating when he wants to be. Most of the time he's just silently watching people going in and out, stopping people every so often to check them for weapons and -- as the night wears on -- ejecting people out onto the street unceremoniously if they become either too drunk or too unfriendly. Or both.

His manner is easygoing but firm, and he'll apologise to anyone who has to watch him throw out people onto the curb. Equally, though, he'll happily chat to anyone standing outside to smoke or take in the night are. Want to know how much for a night with him? He's not for sale, but he'll indulge a little flirtation. Want a little light chat between working jobs? He's a good listener, especially if you bring him a drink. Or, of course, if you want some help he'll happily dissuade whoever is bothering you by force.


[ OOC note: if you want to be the one who grinds John into the ground at the fight club you're welcome to be, but I'd prefer only one person to do that since he'd probably drag himself out after that and take it easy until he's healed up!

On that note, I'd also rather John not get instantly healed up of all his cuts or he will literally never learn a lesson. ]

Comments

Flona Cove

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto isn't a man designed for this sort of an atmosphere, as he had explained to the other man previously. But he's not the sort of person to let a good opportunity pass him by, especially when it's staring him right in the face. He could use a change of scenery, for just the little while. Get out of the little apartment that he shares with John and get some fresh air for a few days. That's the idea, anyway.

Of course, Ianto's never been great at parties. And as the day wears on, the more he finds himself sticking to the outskirts of the gatherings, until at last he doesn't think he can take it anymore and with one last desperately acquired drink he heads away from the crowds and down towards the ocean himself.

Which is where he happens upon John.

"Well," he quips as he sidles up to the other man, "I know why I'm hiding out from the crowds. What's your excuse?"

[impavid]

John's reactions are a little slower than normal, which is probably telling, but once his eyes track up to Ianto he gives him a sceptical squint. His sunglasses are pushed up into his hair, which is considerably ruffled, and he has a drink in one hand as he sits on the sand watching the waves lap at the shore.

"Do I need an excuse? I didn't know they were taking attendance at parties now. I'll get a doctors note for next time."

He turns his gaze out onto the ocean again, gestures at the skyline after a moment where the the two moons are visible.

"New Lantea had five moons, but you could only see two of them without a... telescope or something."

[torchwoodteaboy]

He hums softly, looking up to the sky where John had motioned towards the moons. He thinks about quipping something about attendance policies and sign in sheets but John seems to be in a contemplative mood, so he leaves it there for now. Any time the other man starts talking about himself, Ianto's certainly not going to tell him to stop. He wonders if this means the two moons remind him of it. It's probably too direct a question to ask outright, though, so he leaves it there for now.

"Or something," Ianto echoes, before moving to take a seat beside him on the sand, carefully so as to not spill his drink. He's managed to find something a little more suitable to dress in, a tshirt and short-sleeved button down with linen pants and yes, sandals. It had been appropriate for the sunny cove during the day, but here once the sun has set he's starting to feel a little chilled. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers.

"It sounds lovely," he replies, once he's settled himself. "You must be well used to this sort of thing, then. Two moons. Alien planets. No problem."

[impavid]

"Been doing it a few years."

The alien planets thing, He shifts and begins digging his drink into the sand a little to keep it upright and steady, then drops down onto his back to stare at the stars. They're unfamiliar, and that alone isn't new but John just wishes he could orientate himself. Work out which way is which, where the Storm is right now.

"Torchwood never take you off world?"

Maybe they were more a... homeland thing, like the IOA field operations agents. Maybe Torchwood was some division of the IOA, for that matter. It's a weird sort of name. An acronym, maybe?

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto raises his glass to take a sip of his newest find -- a different non-ale than the one he had found at the Coalition gathering, but still pretty damn convincing, as far as he was concerned -- and shrugs slightly at the question, before shaking his head when he can.

"Not really in our mission statement," he replies. "Defend the Earth against alien threat -- be rather difficult to do from off the planet. And the majority of the population isn't supposed to know that it's really even possible anyway, so I suppose it's for the best. Who would I tell?" It's not like the team really talks to each other all that much. Not outside of work. Maybe that might have changed, if they were all here now. Without work to get in the way. Maybe they'd realize that they'd have nothing to keep them together anymore. He supposes it's difficult to tell, what with him being the only one there.

He turns back to John, studying the casual way he's laid himself out in the sand. "Working for Torchwood, off-world always had a tendency to find us instead," he concludes. "Before this, I'd never been further than France, before. And while foreign, it certainly wasn't alien, no matter what they may tell you otherwise."

[impavid]

Huh.

"I thought Europeans travelled more." More than Americans, that is, although John travelled with the Air Force rather than for vacations. "I made it to every continent, at least. Antarctica is nice. Quiet."

Cold, though, especially compared to California -- and this beach, for that matter.

Was nice, he mentally corrects himself after a moment, and he squints in irritation at the stars.

"Anyway, what's driving you out here away from the party?"

It's a perfectly nice gathering, after all. Bonfires. Food. Drink. Nice people. There's nothing strictly wrong with it, it just leaves John feeling a little empty. Makes him think of all the people who aren't with him.

[torchwoodteaboy]

They travel if they have the money for it, Ianto thinks but doesn't say aloud. His father's idea of a holiday was visiting his Nan in the Beacons, which was pretty much the furthest from fun you could get as far as teenaged Ianto was concerned.

He turns and watches John as he talks instead. Better to let him talk than voice his own thoughts, he figures. Antarctica. And then Atlantis. He's lived such an exciting life. Every continent. Ianto is quietly awed.

Of course it would come back to the party, though. Ianto turns to look out at the ocean in front of them for a few moments before answering. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, swirling his drink in his glass as he does.

"The party itself, I suppose," he says, at last.

[impavid]

"Not a big fan of parties?"

He drifts his eyes sideways to Ianto for a moment, studying the unhappy set of his features.

"Well, you're welcome to hang out on my alternative patch of empty beach. We may not have an open bar and food but we still have sand and ocean."

Which is good enough for him for now. John may have been enjoying the quiet, but Ianto's presence is hardly a disturbance. He's a gentle, earnest shadow. Like a Labrador that follows you around hoping if it's quiet it won't be sent away.

[torchwoodteaboy]

"How kind of you to share," he quips, though he's well aware that John had come out here for a reason of his own. He'd leave him to it, if he'd wanted to be by himself. Since the other man doesn't seem to mind the company, however...

He plays with his drink in his hands for a few moments longer before responding. "They're supposed to be easy," he says. "Parties. It's supposed to be fun. Food and drinks. Things to do. People..." It's perhaps the people that bother him the most, the unexpected noises, the strangers, the expectations. The effort it takes to try and just be a normal person, and not Torchwood or Ianto Jones or whatever he's pieced back together into some semblance thereof.

[impavid]

"I think that all depends on the people."

Small parties with people you like can be fine. Big parties full mostly of strangers can be weird. John squints up at Ianto thoughtfully, assessing his demeanour, then pushes to sit up -- gets to his feet and begins brushing sand off his clothes.

"Come on," he says, and yanks his drink free of the sand before holding up a hand to haul Ianto up too. He's not explaining where they're going, because he's drunk just enough to sometimes forget what he has verbalised and what he hasn't. Ianto needs to enjoy the beach, though, so John will make sure he does.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto blinks up at him, wondering if he should set his own drink aside just to be certain he has a hand free (just in case), but decides he would rather keep drinking it, if it's all the same to anyone else. Reaching up, he tentatively takes the other man's offered hand and hopes that John isn't about to rocket him to his feet and spill his drink all over him. It would be unfortunate, considering he really doesn't have any other change of clothes along just now.

"Come where?" he asks, because while John may not feel it necessary to explain, Ianto wants to know anyway. Even if he's already pretty much agreed to come along besides.

[impavid]

"To have fun," John advises. He takes a half-step back to spread out his weight, holding his own drink back out of the way and lofting an eyebrow at Ianto as he gives him a gentle pull. Come on, then. He can haul you up on his own if he has to but it's easier if you help.

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto's not certain he trusts John to truly hold his weight anyway, so after a moment's hesitation at those words -- fun? -- he shifts his legs underneath him and helps the other man pull him up to stand.

"Well. Just so long as 'fun' doesn't have anything to do with going back into that crowd," he gently protests, though of course he's still coming along wherever John is taking him. Even if it does end up back to the party. He'll just complain the whole way they go. Loudly.

beachy bonfires

[willrevile]

Jim's mostly here at someone else's behest, being both naturally Iowan pale and having adapted to being space pale, and thus prone to going from pasty to crispy in ten minutes, but it's been nice. Nice enough that he's doing his own wandering, scoping the place and the people out. He's been in Olympia plenty, even when he definitely wasn't supposed to, but it's a different feeling, now. Maybe it'll even last for more than a week.

He's considering another drink, and--

"Hey," a slightly nervous laugh as he swerves out of the way of something in his peripheral vision. "Try toasting marshmallows instead of eyeballs, man. You got that thing under control?" Hello there, stranger, Jim is wearing shorts and a gauzy black robe that, on old Earth, would probably be for women. He also smells like the most coconut thing on the fucking planet for how much sunblock hasn't worn off yet despite the late hour.

[impavid]

John pauses and turns to sass whoever is daring to question his juggling skills -- but then he actually catches sight of Jim.

There's a moment of double-take where he just... processes the look. Takes it all in. Then he lofts an eyebrow, and drives the end of the stick into the sand to put it out.

"Didn't mean to put your harem cosplay at risk. Tell me you're not wearing homemade sunblock?"

Since the overpowering smell of coconut just makes him think of Rodney, in a weird mix of nostalgia and irritation.

[willrevile]

Jim is unfazed by the double-take. He is burn-free, comfortable, and you wish you had eyes this blue, pal. Anyway, he tilts his head and raises his eyebrow in mild skepticism about not putting his attire at risk. "Naw, just everyone's aversion to being skewered by flaming sticks at risk," is dry, but in good humor. Then he pulls a face. "Who makes sunblock?"

He'll mix his own chemical compounds for 'fleet-grade liquid bandages and/or explosives, but that's about it.

[impavid]

"Someone I worked with."

He pauses to brush sand off his hands and retrieve his drink from the ground, ignoring the unease using past tense gives him. They're just not working together right now, that's all. That's all it means. In fact, John consciously switches tense to even it out -- Rodney isn't dead, he's just in stasis. Everything is fine.

"He's about as pale as you, Canadian. It always smells like I'm on holiday when he gets the sunblock out. Pretty sure everyone can smell us coming, too."

Which is terrible for anything like stealth, but it's not like he was much better without the sunblock.

[willrevile]

Canadian, huh. A bit of a relief, though Jim's chatted up plenty of friendly natives today, too.

"It's the Iowan genes and years in space, for me." At least Jim only has the color of depressing unbaked bread and not the texture. Not ripped, but he gets by. There's a mole on his boob chest. It builds character.

"You're new, right? Nice timing."

Seriously, nothing's tried to kill everyone in a horrible way yet.

[impavid]

John gives Kirk a long once over, as if assessing him for Iowan genes. It's actually a mix of that and the 'years in space' comment. It gives him a new angle on the gauze situation. Fashion choices in space can be 'unique'. Maybe it's a space thing.

"Thanks, I was always told it was fashionable to be late. Women like that. Seems like I turned up just in time for the free drinks."

He switches the drink to his other hand and holds it out to shake, offering a lopsided smile along with it.

"John Sheppard."

[willrevile]

(It's a Jim-doesn't-care thing. If his counterpart gets the kicky green v-neck, he can wear ladies' robes when he feels like it, gosh darn it.)

"Do they?" Only a brief half-moment of-- something. Jim usually just gets yelled at for being late. Anyway, he gamely shakes hands, his own grip steady but not overly firm.

"Jim Kirk. Good to meet you."

[impavid]

"No," he confirms, because they don't like it and he has the divorce papers to prove it. Still, he nods vaguely at Kirk's name -- releases his hand to take another sip of his drink. Something nags at him though, and he frowns in thought as he tries to pin it down. Jim Kirk, where does he know that name from? Jim--

Then his expression lights up and he snaps his fingers.

"You were Ianto's hot date!"

That's it! The guy who gave Ianto his ticket! Nailed it.

[willrevile]

Eyebrows. Jim feels like he'd have remembered a date actually happening, opposed to what did (or more accurately: didn't).

"News to me," he says. "Did I sleep through something?"

Which would be unfortunate, but not entirely unheard of. Not that he's pulled any embarrassing blackout drunk stunts in several years, but it would be more likely than Ianto fabricating something, probably. The guy seems pretty straight forward.

Witness performance art of John Sheppard digging himself a grave

[impavid]

This one is entirely John's fabrication, because he's a jerk. He shakes his head, gestures vaguely --

"No, you gave him your ticket then stood him up!"

Again, somewhat... enhanced by John's personal view of events.

"After you gave him your fancy ring and everything, too. I was hoping it'd turn into a hot date so I'd have an excuse to visit someone in Wyver."

oh gurl

[willrevile]

Uh ... huh. This is beginning to come together, like a sea sponge post-blender. (Slowly and strangely.)

"An interesting interpretation of events," Jim says amiably. He's not in a hurry to explain that he passed off his tokens of extreme importance to someone who wasn't involved in the kidnappings with so many natives milling around - and he's really not interested in having to inevitably explain the kidnappings. John can think what he likes. He seems the type to, should be easy.

"I take it you attended the coalition meeting as well?"

Begins digging slowly

[impavid]

John has the easy west-coast rich-boy confidence of someone generally assured of their importance on some level, and also their own correctness. So it's a pretty fair assumption he'll think what he likes, although he does take critique reasonably well. Mostly.

"I did!" he confirms, but also -- "you stayed outside, right? Ianto said you were a guard."

Which implies John does know, on some level, the truth. He's just choosing to also endorse a more interesting version of reality.