a very special spaceship holiday

[tactician]

Partaaay on the First!

Nowadays, it's mostly humans that celebrate the winter holidays this...festively, but luckily for all of you, the leader of Circle 7, the System's most notorious crime mega-conglomerate, is human. He insisted on the celebration on the First, too, said something about morale and good cheer and a shit ton of (most likely laced) alcohol. Something about holiday pranks, too, but that might've just been my imagination.

There's mistletoe hanging everywhere, the suspicious smell of Astorean Norther Fir in the air, jingling bells tied to every doorway, and is it just me, or does that big Santa have a glass eye?

It's gonna be a grand ol' time.

Comments

[tactician]

Viana curled her lip over her teeth. It was't as if she personally managed the Circle's reputation within its members, but she had been with them long enough and they had done enough for her and her brother that there was a certain sense of protectiveness over the Organization itself.

"You've been here for almost a year now, and you still think like that?" She scoffed. "No wonder you're lonely. You haven't even accepted your situation."

[aphelionix]

"That was a bit of a joke," he said, sighing. "The Circle turned out to be... much less like a mafia than I thought."

[tactician]

Her impatience flared short for a second. "You can leave if you want to! You don't have to stay here and try to be friends with people if you didn't want to! Evan would tell you the same thing!"

[aphelionix]

Bentley's eyebrows raised, and he looked startled again for a second.

"I didn't say I want to leave, though," he said. "I think it'd be a shame, actually, leaving the only place I have friends."

[tactician]

She blinked at him, eyes wide, before collapsing in on where she sat again, shrinking up like a hedgehog into a protective ball. "I was just...saying. That's all."

[aphelionix]

He blinked at her, before shaking his head, smiling.

"I'm probably staying," Bentley said, a realization seeming to settle in. Maybe Viana had gotten a couple things right, after all. Some of his loneliness was self-imposed, through a belief that he didn't belong and couldn't trust people. It was nice to have someone remind him that it wasn't necessarily true. "It's not my first home, but it's... Well, think it's a good one."

[tactician]

"It is," she agreed, much softer than Bentley had probably ever heard her speaking. Her eyes were still focused on something far across the room, but the tone was gentle, introspective.

She swerved her eyes to him then, gaze sharp. "As long as you keep that mouth of yours shut when you're about to say something stupid."

[aphelionix]

His nervous laugh returned, and Bentley leaned just a little away under that ever scary glare.

"You're right," he said, his lopsided smile staying in place. "I-it is better when I don't say stupid things."

[tactician]

Apparently satisfied with that, Viana let off with a curt nod and settled back. Though she stayed in the same place, the tension in her body language and sitting position seemed to loose and once again, she looked just like a girl sitting on a bench like any other.

"What were you doing with that idiot, anyway?"

[aphelionix]

"Who, Danny?" Bentley leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, resting his chin in his hand. "He wants to meet up tomorrow to give me a gift." (It wasn't entirely a lie.)

[tactician]

Viana looked just as surprised as Bentley had at that piece of factual information. She looked like her brother when she did that - silently react and then slowly school her expression back into something more neutral, like she was soaking the information up like a sponge with water. (She only did it when it was something that wasn't infuriating, of course.)

"I hope you like being gaudy."

[aphelionix]

Oh. Right. Danny had the most infamous tastes on the ship.

"He doesn't... dress that gaudy," he assured, more to himself than Viana. "But in any case I'm just happy he thought of me."

[tactician]

She scoffed, kicking her feet into the air and swinging them to the ground, the momentum bringing her to a stand in front of the bench. Viana looked over her shoulder down at Bentley, smirking. "We'll see if you say that once you're obligated to wear a frilly shirt around the ship out of gratitude."

[aphelionix]

"It'll be fine, I think..." Bentley bit his lip. Danny was good at picking out for peoples' styles, right? T-that's what he prided himself on, after all. "Are you going?"

[tactician]

Viana rolled a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "It's getting a little boring here."

[aphelionix]

"Ah." Looking out at the room, there were still a lot of things going on. Food, drink, and people were still dancing.

Hm.

"A-actually, um... if it's not a, er, stupid question..." Bentley grew a little warm in the face. "Would you... maybe like to dance?"

[tactician]

One eye narrowed. "Are you still making fun of me?" she asked, though it sounded quite threatening.

[aphelionix]

Bentley quickly shook his head. "I-I'm asking honestly," he stammered. "But I'll understand if you don't want to."

[tactician]

Viana rounded on him, a hand on her hip.

"Do you even know how to dance?" she asked skeptically.

[aphelionix]

"Um. I know... very minimal waltzing..?"

[tactician]

It wasn't a waltzing song playing in the room - the beat was too regular, too fast, and the melody was more of a pulse than any classical melody. Viana stared at him for a long moment, quiet, measuring in the way that Dominicos tended to be, before holding out a hand, the way a gentleman might to a damsel that he was inviting onto the dance floor.

"Let's see what you've got."

[aphelionix]

Bentley reached up, her hand small in his own, becoming even more nervous as he stood.

"You... want me to actually teach you?"

[tactician]

She began to pull her hand back.

"Are you wimping out?" Viana accused.

[aphelionix]

His hand followed. "No, I'm just... surprised."

[tactician]

She gave a huff of impatience and proceeded to drag him through the throng of people onto the floor, where the ground beneath them was overlaid with a flat, polished, hardwood surface for dancing. Viana turned to him expectantly, the roaming colored lights making her hair appear almost neon in coloration. She was mindless of the few stares she got, but then again, Viana had never really been all that concerned about public opinion (unlike Bentley, who might have been a little too concerned with what people thought of him).

"Who's leading?" she asked.

Because that was a question she actually had to ask with Bentley.