Log - OTA! - What’s the difference between a corpse and a shirt?

[bossyboiler]

Who: Everyone.
When: Wednesday evening, Jan 11th
Where: A rented out bar, downtown.
Summary: The wake for George Milton.
Warnings: N/A (will update as needed)

If anyone of the forcibly kidnapped to Gloucester deserved to be remembered, it was George Milton. In many ways, he was the best of them. He had been kind. He had always been willing to help and lend a hand. Unlike some whose first choice was violence (because what else was there), he had chosen to forgo that route and had come up with a much more clever solution. The solution saved lives.

It had not felt right to have a formal service for him. To put it simply, he was not a formal person. And so after much calling around, a bar had been found where they could rent out the entire place before business got too busy. It was just for a couple of hours. People could come and say nice things about George. It's what he deserved after all.

So come on in, have a beer or two, and sit a spell. Maybe you'll feel like sharing a story about George or maybe you're just there to pay your respects. There's a break in the weather, the clouds only filling up half of the nighttime sky. No acid snow for tonight.

Comments

Kate - OTA

[bossyboiler]

Early

Kate is one of the first to arrive. She's there for setup. While there is some food available in the form of finger foods and pub grub, she's brought cookies. Sugar cookies to be specific, and they are all in the shape of a fish. Why fish? It had made her smile in remembrance as she cut them all out and then decorate them with frosting. She sits the cookies with the rest of the food.

She'll be there for greeting and maybe a shoulder to lean on.

Middle

"Remember the fish?" Kate asks a person near her. "It was so smelly but it worked."

Late

She tries to do most of the cleanup herself which involves taking containers of left over finger food and cookies and loading them in one of the borrowed vans from ADI. Why by herself? She doesn't want to intrude on anyone this evening. She wants to let people be. Does that mean she'll turn away an offer to help? No.

After cleanup, she'll hang out in the bar for a bit.

Early

[ployboy]

Truth be told, he didn't expect to attend a wake so soon-- or... ever, frankly. Which is dumb given the danger of their work and location, but injuries and casualties had been... different for ADI recruits.

Anyway. No. Tim hadn't known George.

It doesn't stop him from slinking through the doors, finding some seats and tables in the process of being rearranged, and volunteering his efforts to the cause. One table he's pushing up against another is destined for foods and things, and Tim blinks up at Kate before shyly saying, "Okay, that's cute."

Because fish.

[bossyboiler]

She remembers him.

"Thanks and thank you. I think George would have found it funny." The tables are pushed together and some of the food has already been put out. "Tim right? Do you think you could help me bring in a few more things?"

Early

[failedpromise]

It doesn't take long for Cortana to turn up.

"Hey Kate." She's wearing one of the dress shirts George willed her, and she looks ...tired. She moves like she's tired, too, giving only a half hearted little wave before finding somewhere to sit at the bar.

She can't actually eat anything, so she doesn't actually notice the fish cookies at first, but when she does, she can't help but snort.

[bossyboiler]

"Hi Cortana," Kate replies as she puts out some more cookies. She had baked a lot of them (maybe too much) and she hopes that people like them. Once she is done she gives the hologram her full attention. She offers a smile.

She isn't going to comment on how tired Cortana looks. In her mind saying that a woman looks tired is saying that she looks old. "Like the fish?"

Late

[easilyamused]

"You pack, I'll carry," Methos suggests as he fetches up alongside her near the partially-demolished array of snacks. As event cleanup goes, the damage doesn't look too bad - better, certainly, than he'd been halfway anticipating, following the disaster that had been the last large ADI gathering.

Perhaps even the agents of unspeakable horror know better than to interrupt a wake at a bar this well-established.

[bossyboiler]

"My hero." Kate responds to his suggestion with a small smile. She is grateful for the offer of help. The sun is long gone and what little warmth it had provided is long gone. It's cold outside. More people to help means fewer trips out into the night to put things back in the van.

She has a plan. Along with the van, she'll take the left over food back to ADI. The van will get parked and the food put into the refrigerators in the lunch room. The food will still be good in the morning. At least that is her plan once she leaves the bar. It's cold enough outside that the food will be fine.

Kate starts the process of gathering everything up. "Did you ever get to meet George?"

Middle

[canofmanji]

"It did." Manji agrees as he looks at the cookies without taking one. He never had much of a sweet tooth, but he admires how much they look like fish. "When I first met George we went fishing together. Seems very fitting." Manji is dressed in a simple black kimono for this wake. One arm dangling loose at his side where he's missing his left arm.

Middle

[musicdied]

"So smelly," Yelena agrees, nose wrinkling at the memory. "I was afraid the stink would never go away. I think that was the most disgusting way to save lives ever. It was genius."

Middle

[thedoctorsmate]

"I honestly can't believe that worked." Donna's smile is tinged with sadness, but it's there all the same. "What a mad man! And what mad people at ADI to go with that over blowing the mountain up. Bloody persuasive of him, I'd say."

Malcolm Bright and/or Neal Caffrey; OTA

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is devastated. Devastated. Unlike the close friends and family that had disappeared, whose fates weren't certain - whose fates were even more uncertain in the wake of Tim's return - George is dead. Malcolm knows with the lead weight of certainty, because he'd seen the body. He found it, in fact. That part doesn't bother him, really. Dead bodies are a day on the job where he's from. But he's taking the loss of George hard and he does not stray more than a few steps away from Neal. He's nursing a glass of whiskey through the evening and he's much quieter than usual. He listens to people's stories, he watches, he thinks. He doesn't touch the food.

Both is good.

[bossyboiler]

Kate has been waiting for Malcolm to arrive. She knew that Neal would be with him but she's not really worried about Neal. She is worried about Malcolm and how he's doing after he told her he had found George's body.

She catches him when he is about a step and a half away from Neal. Kate goes in for a hug whether he likes it or not. He needs one.

Either one or both!

[ployboy]

Tim's found a way to stick to his purpose: he moves plates of food here and there depending on where the crowd migrates, he picks up and takes out trash before the bins get too full for the sake of appearances, he even announces the upcoming curfew for the sake of whoever that might inconvenience tonight. He's dressed neat enough despite heavy jeans, though he wonders if the detachment he's felt during the whole thing is sensible or simply the accumulation of too many similar experiences.

Naturally, eventually, he goes to join the familiar faces.

The first thing he does approaching is reach a hand for a momentarily unattended glass of whiskey. It's worth a try.

Andrew Jaeger - OTA

[bloodalwaystells]

In some ways, it's easier to be professional in a situation like this. To dress appropriately, to be there at a set time, to nurse a beer and maintain a polite, distant demeanor.

Jaeger is dressed in his usual turtleneck and slacks, hair combed neatly with a glint of hematite-metal, big and solemn and solid as he ever is. He arrives a bit early and lingers in the cold air for a few minutes before he goes in, and does his best not to think too much.

But the fish cookies make him laugh, a breathy gust of half-restrained sound. And then he isn't sure what else to do, what else to say.

He's used to funerals as a professional courtesy, but actually mourning? That's something different. It's something hes never really been able to allow himself. And just as he thinks he's caught his breath after Garner, it all hits him all over again.

So...distance, and composure, and doing his best not to think about it too much. And keeping a watchful eye on the bar, both inside and outside, to give everyone else the space and security *they* need to mourn.

[bossyboiler]

Kate is going to try and speak to everyone that comes in and out from the cold. They've made the effort to be here. Besides, she doesn't know who is hurting and who is just there to offer support. They may need a shoulder to cry on and just not have had the time to realize their grief yet.

She approaches Andrew during the middle of the wake. She's wearing a simple black dress with her hair pulled back. She didn't have any darker-colored dresses to wear and a bright color wouldn't have been appropriate. Oh, it's true that this event is less formal than an actual funeral service but Kate didn't want to push boundaries tonight.

When she approaches, she has a cocktail in one hand with a soft smile on her face. "I'm glad you could make it Andrew."

[friendsfordinner]

Hickey's another one who spends time away from everybody, to give them their distance. Because he's got no clue what the fuck to do with this. He's got no clue how to act on things like this. He knows what everyone expects him to do and he just...can't.

So he spends time outside, away from everybody, letting the chill of the evening calm him. When he spots Jaeger, he gives him a little nod. "Got a match?" he asks, as he reaches for his cigarettes.

Cornelius Hickey | ota!

[friendsfordinner]

What the fuck do you do at something like this. Hickey never was one for funerals. The last proper funeral he went to, he buggered off halfway through it to rifle through other people's stuff. This hanging out, remembering people, sharing memories...there's something about him that fundamentally doesn't get it. They're dead. All the talking won't bring them back. Just accept it and move on.

Still, George was his flatmate. So he has to at least show up to this because that's what people do and, though he's not sure how much he counts these days, in everybody else's mind he's still people. He's still supposed to care about this.

That being said, he is very obviously out of sorts for the wake. Part of it is the attire. Not entirely sure what to wear, Hickey settled on black slacks and a white button-up oxford shirt, both of which are obviously new and both of which he feels very uncomfortable in. And part of it is just talking about memories. He's not entirely sure what to say, if he should say anything. So he just spends a lot of time outside the bar, smoking cigarettes and staying out of everybody's way.

[canofmanji]

Hickey isn't the only one who was feeling slightly awkward and out of place. He's found himself a black traditional kimono and after watching Hickey for a few minutes, Manji decides to make a move. Coming over with a beer in hand that he holds out for Hickey to tkae. "Here. There's a couple seats open at the bar." They can sit and be awkward together.

Neal Caffrey || OTA

[conning]

Even odds as to whether or not Malcolm appears mid-conversation (though oocly, of course, that's player preference). Neal isn't straying far from him, less because of his own sadness than because of Malcolm's frayed nerves. His frayed everything. Neal didn't know George the way Malcolm knew George. He liked him, he liked that Malcolm had such a close friend still left at ADI. But he didn't know him the way he should have. The way he would have liked to, if he hadn't been so caught up in his own head the past few months.

He has drinks, plural, just cheap wines without a lot of physical impact. He checks in on those who seem the worst off. At some point during the night he excuses himself to use the restroom and goes out back for a breath of very cold air, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.

He hates funerals, he hates death. And this event is starting to give him a cocktail of emotional premonitions from people that they might not want him to have. The Lonely, whispering to him, teasing him with the chance to make things worse if he just takes the reins of his own newfound, unwanted abilities.

Breathe. Wait for the unwanted sixth sense to fade.

[People who come upon Neal outside can specify whether or not they want him to be able to psychically feel their negative emotions. I'll err on the side of 'no' unless it's explicitly permitted.]

cw: mentions of PTSD, injury, induced madness

[ferriswheelsandfootball]

[Please feel free to have him sense John's negative emotions!]

The cold air is refreshing.

It's the first time he's gone out since Dogtown, since the infirmary, and being around people in general is a little...overwhelming. It wasn't a problem he had before, but maybe it's a mix of what happened--reminding him of the endless, overlapping, maddening chatter of the Stars--and a mix of being tempted to feed off fear. It would be so easy to get here--it would take but a few words to tip someone's sadness over into apprehension, of something that is out there coming for them, like it came for George. He wouldn't dare--the bad karma alone would probably crush him instantly, but the temptation is there. The Hunt, tugging at his instincts, always.

There's someone out here. John sees Neal, and for a moment, considers leaving him alone. But maybe this is the kind of night none of them should be left alone.

"Taking a break?"

John's still very visibly injured. He moves slowly, many bandages still rustling under his clothes and jacket. There's cuts and scratches that are mostly healed on his skin here and there. There's also a lingering fear about him, something wild and unsettled brewing under the surface.

[clavesregni]

[ooc: feel free to have Neal sense her negative emotions!]


Caitlyn didn't really know George. But plenty of people at ADI did know him well, and they must be absolutely devastated by his death. So she shows up less to mourn for herself and more to provide whatever support she can for those who may need it.

She's never been very good at gatherings, though. And instead of finding anybody who needs a hug and a shoulder to cry on, all she ends up with is a building sense of frustration that things aren't fixed, that people keep dying while the living seem trapped in a perpetual cycle of mourning their loved ones. She's been here just six months and already two people have died.

So she finds herself out back by herself, sitting on a bench, lower lip caught between her teeth as she frowns intently at nothing, fingers occasionally tapping idly against the glass of whiskey she's mostly forgotten she's holding.

She's startled out of her reverie by the door opening, and she looks up to see the man she remembers from the dream she had. The dream of another death.

"Neal?" she asks softly.

Eda Clawthorne | OTA

[edalyn]

a) Words are hard

Eda can't hide a snicker as she grabs a fish shaped cookie. They're funny to her for several reasons, including George's will.

She was almost surprised to be included in it, despite not insignificant amounts of time they'd spent and scrapes they’d gotten in together. But he was definitely a friend, if not an incredibly close one.

And she's just as glad that he didn't get… sappy. He was probably well aware that wasn't her favorite thing. That, and it makes her feel better that she… really has no idea what to say.

She's here, she wouldn't miss it, but words aren't her best thing. Actions are easier. In this case, actions like deciding it was her job to take home a hammer and a note. with the address of a family in Wolf Pen who she's going to check in on… because Kitty wasn't here to take them and isn't here to do that herself.

Eda is thinking about them both today. At least the Siren is fine, she's telling herself. There's no proof anything bad happens to the people who disappear… even if they seem to forget their time here. Katrina is fine. Probably.

But Eda misses her, and for all that the three of them were very different… they all cared about helping people, especially the people that polite society wasn't fond of. Eda's planning to step up more on that front, on both of their behalf.

For now, though, she leans an elbow on the bartop and orders another mediocre cider before giving a little nod to whoever happens to pass or sit by her.

b) Wakes have music, right?

Words aren't her best thing, but she's pretty sure music wouldn't be amiss. She hopes. As much as she claims to be an expert on the Human Realm, she isn't terribly familiar with the customs here, and funerals less so.

But there was music at Garner's, so it seems like a safe enough bet.

She's had a guitar case with her since arriving, although the instrument in it isn't actually a guitar. She's making do with what she could find in one of the little stores in town.

At some point as the evening begins to wear on, she'll move to a corner and begin picking out tunes on her cithrinchen. She's surprisingly good given how out of practice she is, although there's the occasional missed note here or there as a glamoured claw slips.

There aren't many good things about being here, about the Entities or the ADI's restrictions, but at least her music isn't cursed when she isn't feeding. She's played once for Katrina, in a dream, and Rue, the last time she burned off every bit of her power. This is the first time she's played in public since, well… long before getting here, actually.

words are hard

[sathan]

Being cut off from many of her usual sources had forced Lilith to take a slightly different approach, not that she didn't appreciate the need for a drink at times. She'd gone to the bar for that reason: mull over the situation with a drink, see what information she could claw out of any helpful patron and start piecing the situation together.

The atmosphere of the bar was certainly very different to what she expected when she walked in, quieter, somber, not the chatter she'd expect. Was it fear keeping them silent or something else, a detail that she'd missed? That change didn't alter her plans, making her way to the bar, ordering a glass of wine, taking a look at those around her to see who might be best to start this conversation with.

"Are all night so... silent?"

[canofmanji]

As she plucks away Manji eventually comes over. Peering curiously with his one good eye. "Reminds me a little of a shamisen. Although the sound isn't quite the same."

Cortana | Halo | OTA

[failedpromise]

Cortana is here. George was her neighbor and her friend, and she'd liked him. She's even wearing one of the dress shirts he willed her, despite having plenty of clothes of her own now. It felt ...right to do so.

But George isn't the only person on her mind as she sits at the bar, sipping at a glass of distilled water. (It's for her cooling systems, and she can't really drink anything else, she just figured she might as well bring something so that she could blend in a little more.) Instead, she thinks about Nick, and the comparative lack of reaction to his disappearance.

It's - she shouldn't be surprised. Nick seemed to keep to himself a lot, and George helped a lot of people. Combine that with how no one really talks all that much about those who disappeared and ...well, it really is understandable that George's death takes precedence.

...That is all it is, right?

It doesn't help that she's still not sure that people who disappear aren't just ending up imprisoned and tortured by the entities. What if Nick got taken by that cult? He spent most of his time around George, it's possible, even likley, he would have been nearby. It's a disquieting thought. Nick is? was? a good man, she doesn't want him to experience that.

What if the same thing happens to her?

She doesn't say much, looking uncharacteristically glum even when she greets a coworker or a friend.

"Hey."