Log:Sister's Reunion

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Sister's Reunion
Characters  •   The Penitent  •  The Explorer  •  The Confidant  •  The Visionary  •  The Fool  •  The Addict  •  The Artist  •  The Bravo  •  The Deviant  •  The Capitalist  •
Location  •  The Facility - Parlor
Date  •  2018-12-23
Summary  •  Three once-Hargreave sisters find each other again. Others join for yet another conversation about the nature of the reality in the Facility. Also, a discussion on having a get together to celebrate a missed Christmas.

Some people are traumatized, in the days following their waking in the Facility. Some are angry. Some just shuffle listlessly about, bleary-eyed and depressed. The Explorer? She seems to be in perfectly high and sunny spirits! She's actually humming to herself as she wanders back out into the parlor from the dining room, holding small bowl of sliced fruit and berries. Fuzzy socks keep her steps quiet and her feet warm as she pads over to one of the sofas, plopping herself down in a corner. Thankfully, the television is off at the moment, so no one is being bombarded with bad 80s music videos.

In the parlor as the Explorer comes wandering in, is another. The Penitent, dressed oh so casually in her gray sweatpants and a light blue tanktop is browsing the bookshelves, her fingers moving from book to book as she searches for whatever it is she's looking for to read. It's the humming that really catches her attention, as she turns to spy who has come wandering from the dining room. Her brows lift up a little, though the smile she offers is a serene one. "Hello," she says in a tone that matches that smile. All vague detachment that is similar to how Anette could drift off, only dialed up a whole lot more. "You know, I didn't even know you were here until others told me you were on the Heph one time. To think we never met before Prosperity." She drifts away from the book case as she stares at the woman that was once her sister.

Someone else is in a good mood. The writings on the wall are bright and optimistic, as opposed to the 'Keep Calm, Carry On' vibe he's been into. The TV's off but The Confidant enters singing.

Don't you, forget about me

Don't, don't, don't, don't

Don't you, forget about me

He bops along to the music in his head as he slips past the ladies in the parlor and into the dining room. He returns with a plate of hot dogs on plain white sliced bread with light ketchup. Potato chips are on the side. He steps into the parlor and grins, even wider. "Nettie, Senni." Confidant's descent into Facility thirst trap continues as he is without a shirt. My, my. It's like marble. White but perfect. He's paired this with the lowest hanging jeans ever and nothing else but a few ink smudges.

The bowl of food is promptly set aside once the Penitent calls attention to her presence, and the Explorer launches back up to her feet. Her bum didn't even have time to create an impression in the cushion, but she's certainly not complaining. Rather, she's squealing as she dashes across the parlor to the woman she'd known as her sister. Poor 'Nettie' -- she's about to get herself pounced and hugged, unless she executes some Dodge Fu. And the Confidant is likely next, but first things first.

It's not exactly the reaction she was prepared for! Penny sort of freezes as the Explorer is back on her feet and practically launching her self at her. But her arms come up, not in defense but to return the hug there, a light and merry laugh escaping her. "There now," she says quietly as the 'sisters' reunite through the power of hugs. She does peer at the passing Confidant, but really it's not until this moment is done with that she's going to really pay attention to much of anything else!

The Confidant just beams at this reunion. This is the kinda thing he's living for right now. Happy people being happy. Love. He and his ketchup and white bread hotdogs take a seat. He curls up his legs and starts to inhale the food. The newcomers to the parlor will note very optimist wall writings and a shirtless Confidant. But the looks of his bare, marble chiseled torso. He lost his shirt due to ink.

Llesenia was a fairly vivacious and affectionate sort, to those she held dear. It seems that quality has carried over to the Explorer. So, yes! The Penitent is ferociously hugged, and immediately after becomes the recipient of a beaming smile. "I'm glad you're here! Sad, because I mean.. means you're dead." Blink. That's enough of a sobering thought to cast a cloud over the sunshine in her expression. For like.. a second. And a half. Maybe. "But so're all the rest of us, I guess, so it's not so bad, right?" Nope, nothing can ruin her mood today, it appears. "Want some fruit? One second." And she breaks away from the woman she'd known as Nettie, in order to rush the Confidant. Probably gets a taste of ketchup as she lays a kiss on him that could curl his toes, too.

"Oh, that's nothing new. I've been dead several times now." Her shoulders lift in a little shrug and the Penitent grins just briefly, seemingly unconcerned despite the words as she lets the Explorer go, a soft laugh escaping the Penitent as she meanders along to find herself a spot on the couch, settling in and then soon enough curling her feet up beneath her. "It's not so bad. Living might be a little more painful, but there's nothing to be done for it except to enjoy the respite." She beams a smile at the pair of them as Llesenia rushes over to the Confidant, her head tilting just a touch as she watches them.

For those that don't believe in monsters, where is your god now?! Shambling in from the hallway is a hideous creature that seems to have two heads, amalgamated together with quilts and blankets like some kind of BLANKET MONSTER. Run for your lives! Or like, don't, cuz no one can actually die apparently. The Fool, formerly known as Isaac Munson, or EL SABLE!! is stepping into the common room to voices, at which point he cuts off movement of the blanket mound so he can pop his head out and see who's there. "Oh! It's just you guys," at which point he strolls on out of the mutual pile from Visionary, well, nearly butt naked save for the wrap of a whispy sarong, that is clearly not his. It's far to pretty, hippie, and feminine to be his, but that doesn't much matter to him! "Lessee...is this the room with the thing? It is!" he declares and promptly leads the blanket mound to the piano.

"So," the Visionary is in the midst of saying as the pair make their way out of her room, "I was thinking. We have those rooms now, and there are all of those picture books on the shelves of places that, well-" The pause is a thoughtful one, but her mood is too good for it to seem maudlin. "-I guess they exist. I was thinking, we should pick something that looks interesting, and go sight-seeing. Tempted to raid the fantasy art section, though, if you really want to know the truth."

And then, there are sisters. The noise the Visionary makes is utterly without concern for her dignity as she nearly chirps. She has the top half of the sarong set on, or maybe the bottom, and it's all backward. Either way, it manages to cover all the places that should be covered should she dart out from beneath the roving blanket fort that is the pair of them, which she immediately does, only to dart back to press a kiss to his cheek before dashing over to her sisters like a batik-wrapped, freckle-speckled jumble of awkward limbs and impossibly fluffy hair. "Finally I catch you! And both of you, even!" This is where the hugging is likely to get vastly out of hand.

Not long after the blanketed duo emerge from the hallway, so too do the Addict and the Artist. There is no blanket uniting them, but they're holding hands, and the Addict Formerly Known As Martin can't seem to stop fawning over his pale-haired counterpart. "We'll try fois gras if you want," he says, 'if there are no real geese involved, is it really cruel?"

For those who haven't seen him since Prosperity, 'Martin' has changed. His hair is shoulder-length in lush, glossy waves. His lips are ruby red, and his eyes pop with inexpertly done liner. He's wearing a velvety pink dress that hugs his body, clinging to his chest and arms, hugging his backside before the skirt falls long to his bare feet. He pauses upon entering the parlor and asks the Artist, "What do you think? Is it too much? It doesn't leave anything to the imagination." It really doesn't.

The Artist's in head to toe leather-- corset, skirt, and thigh-high boots, black against the stark white of his skin. His legs are fantastic! "Of course not! You're ravishing. But do let me do your makeup next time." And as for foie gras, he considers, "You're trying to turn me into a foodie, aren't you?" As it is, if he's not minded, he completely forgets sustenance, and the synthesizers weird him out anyway.

The Confidant reels from that kiss, his whole body turning a deep shade of pink as Explorer parts. He's giggling a little when the blanketed folks show. Now he looks confused but it passes as all the sisters reunite. Oh, sweet comfort this brings and then BOOM. Addict and Artist and The Confidant ditches his white trash dinner and runs over to them. "You found each other! Fuck, man. I am so glad. I..." He pauses and shakes his head. "We are going to celebrate. Uh, uh..." He looks at a loss for a moment. "Food. I can do food. Cassie can pick a location...maybe? I don't know! It's going to be awesome. Food, right. And I promise it won't be shit. I can feel your eyes when I eat." He practically dances off to the Dispensary but not before looking at Isaac as if coming to a realization. "El Sable. I feel like I knew but didn't care." That sentence sticks out as he sounded very much like Jody DeWitt as opposed to Newscaster C. With that, he slips away to surely bring back more food than anyone needs.

"If we go somewhere, I want to dance with Senni!" He calls back.

So much, all at once. A rush of gleeful triumph as she watches Confidant's skin go all rosy, surprise as a blanket monster splits into two humans like a cell dividing, absolute glee as Visionary races over to draw the 'Hargreave sisters' into a group hug. "You're both here!" she coos, delighted. "Oh, oh! Ohmigod, we need a girltalk. I want to know everything. Everything that happened with you two after I died," she bubbles excitedly. "I'll bring the wine. Soon, yes?" Artist and Addict entering does not go unnoticed -- how could they, looking that fabulicious? -- and she shoots them a bright smile. Confidant's commentary as he departs has her looking confused, though, and she looks back to the pair. "Found each other? Did you lose each other?"

The Fool turns to Ange and smirks, "A dangerous habit," he waggles his eyebrows at her as she continues to maudle away despite any protest to the counter. He will wait for the equally dressed freckled-beast to return to him so that he can angle his cheek out for her affections. But then she's running out to pounce her siblings and he just shrugs with an easy smile and begins to play the piano. Something lighthearted and terribly appropose, like "How to Save a Life" or something equally as catchy and utterly pointed. When Martin and his other stalk in however, he gives a sharp wolf whistle, "You two shouldn't be let out of the holding pens," he decides cheekily before smirking at Conf and Explorer. The few bars of the piano come to melodic stop and he will move to rejoin the blankety monstrosity with Ange so he can also hug on Senni and Nettie briefly. A glance for Jody and he chuffs, "Well, it's not as if I hid behind the mask in the last fight, and I frankly remember telling pretty much anyone who'd listen in the end."

Group hug! Upon spotting the Visionary emerging from that blanket creature, the Penitent's eyes widen again. "There you are!" She says, and yes. Then there is a group hug. It's all emotion and excitement and even a touch of sorry, as she admits to the Visionary, "I was worried maybe you'd gone. Like some ... others." She doesn't seem inclined to move any time soon, snuggled on the couch with two once-sisters as she looks across the way at the Addict and Artist, tilting her head as she considers the apperance of them both. "Yes, we'll go over everything! Maybe we'll gather in one of our rooms and make a night of it." She beams at the Explorer before her gaze drifts to the Fool, a light laugh there. "When Nettie found out she was pretty surprised! All those times we fought together and she never knew."

"I was passed out through most of the last fight. And addicted to laudanum. A lot got past me." The Confidant counters to the Fool from the dispensary. "Booze? Yes or no?"

The collective crash of former Hargreave girls comes with the kind of cheerful sounds from once-Angeline that it seems like she might well have turned half-pixie once arriving in the Facility. At the mention of the Penitent's concerns, she shakes her head -- but there is a brief flicker of worry in recognition of the change of faces that has been more active this time through. "I'm all right, just been taking some time getting used to the idea of not just rolling over and poking this one in the ribs every morning to get some breakfast. I forgot how wretched that part of this place was." She even pokes the Fool lightly in the shoulder, proving you simply can't take the Hargreave out of a girl once it's in.

And a familiar voice, too. Martin? The Visionary perks, her smile positively enormous, and the look of cheerful contentment extends to the Artist as well. She's miles from the prim, buttoned-up-to-the-neck schoolmarm with the unlikely badge. "Pick a place?" That's dangerous talk. "Martin! Arthur! You look spectacular!" Immediately, she considers, "Hmm, somewhere friendly to heels... " as she eyes the doors speculatively.

The Addict smiles warmly at the Confidant and gives the Artist's arm a squeeze as he says, "We did. He's been showing me how to dress." He steps forward and gives a twirl to show off his dress. The skirt swishes, but it's still clinging to him from shoulders to hips, showing off a rather fit form. To Arthur, he says, "I want you to show me how you do eyeliner. I'm still trying to get it." He hasn't done a bad job per se, but he's still an amateur at this 'glam' stuff.

The Fool gets a flirty sidelong glance, then a dimpled grin. Then he tugs Arthur's hand, leading him toward the sisters. "Angeline," he says, "Senni, Anette! It's so good to see you all together." He looks like he would say more, but his attention has strayed to the Confidant at the food dispensers, and he looks concerned.

The Fool snickers a little at Nettie's confession, "Well the Hargreaves mighta been a little surprised," he decides with a warm smile for Nettie and Senni and Ange, well the latter gets more of a suggestive tone than the rest. "Booze always," he tells Jody with a laugh. Then he's getting poked and he acks while dodging this way and that to avoid the poking finger. "I have tried to cheat the system, maybe we'll have to try tying you up somewhere and seeing if it works," he purrs and winks at the Visionary with a lurid smile. "Well, I didn't trust him before, but that's probably because I was the whitest freakin knight last round," he shakes his head like that was a personal nightmare.

The Artist gets pulled along, managing his heels with grace. "I've been watching a lot of videos," he notes to the Addict, "But it just takes a steady hand." He smiles pleasantly at everyone, his usual reserve a little frayed by his companion-- it's as if the human connection helps him relate to everyone else a little more, too. The Fool gets a demure lowering of the lashes at the compliment, and then he's looking at everyone else. To Jody, "We did, thank you." To Angeline: "Wherever you like."

"I know, right? Visions from the beyond, sure, fine," the Visionary says with a spread of her hands. "That the man who had been pursuing me for three years was a masked hero galavanting around the countryside and swinging from chandeliers in the name of fighting evil?" She pulls a face, saying, "Pssh, naw, that just sails right over my head." The laugh to follow is bright and honest. "And there is no dodging the Hargreave Sisters Patented Poke of Doom, I'll have you know," she notes, before grinning enormously to the Artist and dashing off immediately to the shelf of fantasy art. Reality is apparently for chumps, and no one else is going to give her such blanket permission to create temporary realities. She'll take it and run!

The Fool just gives Ange that sly look that says 'maybe' to her difinitive statement about Hargreave Pokes.

"It takes a bit of getting used to," Penny says with a brief nod to the Visionary, giving a soft laugh and a sort of quizzical look. "Cillian and Conrad being one and the same, for example." But she doesn't seem overly concerned about this, not like she was some days ago when some folk found her wondering. There's another laugh at the brief talk of El Sable, shaking her head, and she's content for now to seemingly just lounge about and watch people be people, even here in this place.

As Visionary scampers off to the shelves, Explorer leans in to give Penitent another quick hug, before rising. Her bowl of sliced fruit and berries is retrieved from the table. "Someone tell Chance I'm finishing something up, and will be back around later?" she asks, sending Isaac, Martin and Arthur another smile. "I'm glad to see all of you again. Catch up soon, hmm?" Then she slips off toward the hallway full of doors.

The Addict sidles closer to Arthur and wraps his arms around him. He's gotten over a lot of that 1902 propriety, to be showing such affection in what is arguably public. Glancing toward the doors, he says, "Please, something without broken glass. I was there with some of the others on a space station bar, and they started throwing glasses." He glances down at his bare feet. "Maybe I should start wearing shoes, but I'd rather not." To Llesenia, he says, "It's so good to see you again. We really do need to catch up."

The Artist leans in to kiss Martin gently, indifferent to any kind of social mores. "I can go find you some flip-flops. That's almost shoes." Of course, he's sure to be distracted once he's out of the room, for he's a creature of the moment and there are distractions a-plenty in this new place. But it might just be, too, that his bravado in the face of those illusory rooms, is evaporating: they unnerve the hell out of him.

"Was is the one with all the glass for a ceiling?" the Visionary calls back to Martin. "That place seems to be inspiring a lot of... " She just lets the words trail off with a shake of her head and a stubborn resolve to focus on the shelves. "Senni, you should come, I need to-" Pausing, she looks from the Explorer to the Penitent and says, "The idea of a girls' night some time soon is a very good idea."

"Aha!" A book is snatched down from the shelf and clutched close to the Visionary's chest. She trots back to the group, shooting the Explorer and inquisitive look that asks more questions than any words ever could.

"Come see me!" Penny says enthusiastically to the departing Explorer. "My room is the one with the weeping woman with her face in her hands." Well, that's an image she doesn't seem to be living up to, especially! She does look after the departing woman with a touch of curiosity, glancing around at everyone present. "Inspiring a lot of what?" She does wonder of the Visionary when those words trail off.

The Addict returns the kiss and tells the Artist, "That would be lovely. I have some shoes in the closet. I haven't gone through them yet." He seems reluctant to let the pale-haired beauty go, but reluctantly, he does. "I'll either be here or with these ladies." He gestures to the Visionary and the Penitent. "When you get back, we'll get that fois gras." He's working on turning Arthur into a foodie, damn it. The Chicken Nugget Brigade must be stopped.

"I think the Twin Star Observatory is causing bouts of insanity ranging from mild to the extreme," the Visionary notes to the Penitent with a quick arch of her brows. There's a story there, indeed, but it isn't the sort she seems inclined to drop into the middle of plans for a gathering meant for good cheer and happy reunions. "Not that it didn't before, I suppose." With that said, she ducks under the edge of one of the blankets, and opens the book to the page her tucked finger marks to show a teasing glimpse of the chosen page to the Fool for approval.

The Artist beams and drifts out. He'll return with those shoes someday! Hopefully today!

The Fool is patting down his basically naked self looking for a pack of smokes, when he finally finds the things tucked into a fold of the sarong he also manages a book of matches. Mmm sweet sweet nicotine. He sparks up and is pulling a drag as he looks to Vis' story book and the land she's going to create, he just grins and gives her forehead a quick kiss, "That'll do well I think," he approves and then slips his arm around her waist and promptly reblanket-mounds them, so he can molest her for a few moments out of sight of his cousin and her sisters.

"I went to the 'burner on the Noc. Hanging out with one of the new people who have no memories," Penitent offers quietly, nodding her head. "Haven't gotten around to going anywhere else though." She smiles that vague, serene smile of hers, which she turns upon the Addict. "I see you're figuring some things out," she comments mildly, leaning against the arm of the couch now, feet beneath her, glancing at the blanket mound sidelong as Visionary is dragged back into it.

"There was a maintenance platform at the Twin Star I loved, when I was there, but." The Visionary sucks in a quick breath. "Didn't have to wait for the mechanism then, could just scramble up the supports like a crazed spider monkey." How that must have looked never occurred to her when she was Pandora, but the mental image has her coughing lightly to hide a soft laugh into the blankets now.

"I wish we could go back to our house in New Orleans," Martin says. Then he drops his gaze and admits, "It won't be the same without Fleur. But do you remember the dining room? How elegant it was? I can, but only like it's a postcard. But it would still be nice to see it again." He pads over to a chair and drops into it. He smiles at the Penitent and says, "Arthur has been a big help. We have fun dressing up. It's better than staying depressed and never leaving my pajamas."

Finally, The Confidant returns. He has variety of booze. Brown and white liquor. Beer, both in cheap cans and fine bottles. Wine. Red and White...now we see what took him so long. He had to please everyone. A look into the dining room finds a wide spread of picnic friendly foods. Sandwiches, fruits, anything that can travel well. He is still unloading the dispensary, carrying a pack of yogurt when he realizes they are short a few. "Oh. Where'd Senni go?" He looks crestfallen. He did something clearly for her. On a plate is a spray of white orchids and red orchids. Or at least, they look very close to it. Gumpaste flowers are edible, afterall. "I never saw the house in New Orleans." He says, trying to push aside his disappointment. "Senni and I talked about having a place with a kitchen. Cooking."

There's a moment of quiet consideration from the Visionary at the mention of the estate, and she draws closer to the Fool, nestling in beneath his arm all the more closely. There's a kiss darted to the side of his neck before her brow furrows, and her chin tilts down; it's only a slow bob once it's there that makes it into a nod. "We could go back to the manor," she says quietly, thoughtful. "Though I had another thought, and it seems like present company is appropriate for it." She draws a quick breath, and glances amongst the others who had survived Prosperity, particularly those who headed south to the manor. "It was nearly Christmas." The words are quiet. They had never quite managed to get to Christmas.

"It's not like there aren't a dozen holidays around the same time, I mean, who knows what any of us believe, if anything." Her lips purse, and the words are hard to get out. "No real way of knowing how long we've really been here since, or if that really was near on any actual holiday season, but-" But. "-it felt... nice. To be planning for it. With family."

"Is it stupid to think, maybe... ?"

Curled up in her spot on the couch -- the same spot that's always been 'hers' for folk that have been here for the longest, the Penitent offers the Addict a smile in turn, bobbing her head briefly. "She said to tell you she needed to do something," she speaks quietly for the Confidant, shaking her head and offering an apologetic smile. "We could go anywhere, though doing something Christmas-y is an interesting thought. I wonder if it might be too close to Anette though. Not that the idea worries me so much, it's just ..." she trails off, struggling to pull out the words that might explain it proper. At a loss, she just shrugs her shoulders. "I don't think it sounds stupid."

The Addict smiles at Angeline and tells her, "I think that's a wonderful idea." He does seem so genuinely happy to see her, but there's sadness lingering about him. Even if Fleur wasn't real, she was real to him, and The Fool and the Visionary are stark reminders of that life. "Imagine, a fine Christmas feast we could actually taste." He glances over to the Confidant and his selection of food. The sandwiches get a small nod of approval. Sandwiches are a classic. "I think anything that reminds us of our humanity is good, and celebrating for the sake of celebrating is so human."

"No! It's so not!" The Confidant exclaims. It's the best idea he's heard since he got here, it seems like. "Jody...didn't even celebrate until he went to Chicago. I mean, it was just the end of the Reaping for most of my life. When I--he got older, he'd get like, fruit. But, back east, it was...a whole thing, because of all the Germans." He looks to Addict here, knowing he grew up 'back east'. "We would get a tree. I chopped one down myself last year. She was pregnant and sentimental." He stops and shakes his head, as if to clear it. "Sorry. Sorry. That's not even the stuff that feels real but..." He sighs. "Let's do Christmas." He looks at himself then and seems to just not remember he's shirtless. "I'm going to, uh, change real quick. Ink explosion earlier." He darts down the hall then.

"I think it's a little too close to a lot of people," the Visionary concedes, but her brows rise, and her expression softens a fraction. "But that might be the reason it's not the worst idea." Her eyes shift to the floor for a moment, and then she studies the spine of the book a moment longer than anyone not guilty of the very same offense she's about to describe would. "Suppressing things too much, it's not healthy. It just... " A single shoulder rises and falls, barely visible beneath the mound of blankets. "If we're ever going to get it out of our systems, better do it among friends, family. People we give a damn about, who give a damn about us." It's the awkward admission that has her cheeks coloring slightly, but her expressions strengthens almost immediately. "I mean, sure, we're strangers, in a lot of ways. But as much to ourselves as each other. So. I mean. Why not?" Her eyes lift. "Not going through it alone makes a difference." She seems to grasp some of the Addict's tension, and there's a look of empathy there. "Tasting rum was probably one of the better things about landing here again, I have to confess."

"Maybe I should see if Cillian wants to join us, or something," Penny wonders quietly as others all express the joys of a Christmas gathering, and she quietly smiles. It's pleasing, really. She leans over then, on that couch, reaching out a hand towards the Visionary. "I don't know, suppressing things kept me sane, once. When all I remembered was Madison, it was the only way. But things to do, while we are here. Relaxing together. All we have is each other, for better or worse. All we can control is how we deal with one another. I think it's a great idea to do it this way." There's a bit of a laugh and she leans back. "Tell me about it. I hadn't even considered that I could taste food again, until I had my first mouthful here. Amazing."

The Addict sits up and helps himself to some of the booze the Confidant has brought. "I've had a lot of conversations since I got here about what matters. For me, the answer is you. All of you. Even if we keep having to get to know one another all over again, we're still all we've got. Maybe we should imagine somewhere big, with places for couples and smaller groups to gather. Some of us are more ready to be joyous in a crowd, and some of us might need to celebrate in our own, smaller ways." He takes a sip, eyes lidding as he savors the burn of the alcohol upon his tongue and down his throat. "I worry about some of us. We all need time alone, but this is no time for isolation."

The Fool perks up a bit and just has to be inappropriate, "Except the first thing you insisted on tasting was me," he teases and waggles his bared shoulder at the Visionary with a smirk. The blanket fort is good for keeping them bundled together and warm - and within teeth or arm's reach at all times! "But yes, we need to do something appropriately Festivus-like, and yanno do what we wanna do. I want to eat and drink, and smoke, and tell stupid stories about ficional people we believe in," he chuckles and gives Nettie a good smile, "Relaxing is the part that's important...at least until this hell-hole sees fit to shove us into a new reality," he notes. "Well, we are here for you, should you need us, cousin mine."

"And remember, that crazy night we called to Saint Michael to keep an eye on the sheriff in the desert? And I promised I would take a drink for the first time if he made it back?" The Visionary's lips twist ruefully. "It wasn't anywhere near as good as I had hoped it would be, after that. Talk about a kick in the ass." And speaking of kicks in the ass, she laughs aloud as her cheeks go bright crimson. Turning under the blanket, she gets nose to nose with the Fool, and murmurs, "Obviously. I didn't even go for a cigarette, first, if I recall correctly," with an impish little grin. "But that is, I think, proof enough of the truth here. All we really have for sure is each other -- and a different mix of each other, not always to the best. Making good use of the time, knowing each other as much as we can, I... have to admit, I like the sound of that."

"My door is the one with the woman on the rock, foot in the water, staring up at the sky," the Visionary says with another blanket-muffled shrug. "It lets some people in, and sometime lets anyone in. Sometimes locks me out, because-" Because who really know why. "-my room is a horror show, but the bathroom makes up for it. But try the knob. I have a giant soaking tub, an absurd amount of very fluffy towels, and it's bathing suit friendly. Bring wine. Or if there's a pile of us, I found a picture of a gorgeous Italian hot spring I'm dying to try to make in one of those rooms."

The Confidant is back in a flash in a fresh pair of jeans and a gray sweater with a perfectly bland reindeer pattern. "Found this. New to me." He looks to Addict a moment. "You know, my closet has, uh, kilts. Not a skirt exactly but...kilts." He shrugs again. As people begin to speak of suppression and emotion, it's like a switch goes on behind The Confidant's eyes. "Guys, guys..." He moves to a place where all can see him. "Listen, this situation we share is...powerful. It's all emotion and instinct and passion. It's all extremes and then we get here and this is where we are supposed to be. We are here to decompress and process and prepare and I...I know, in my gut, that I can help. I'll listen. I'll listen to whatever you want to talk about. I'll help you unload. Everyone, /everyone/, needs someone they can trust to listen and advise and--My point is, you are not alone here. If you don't want to talk to...whoever. I'll listen. That's why my door is open." He is so earnest in this. He moves a lot as he speaks, hands in motion, pacing one way or another. "But, uh, we should celebrate something. Like a family. Because we are now." He stands there, awkwardly for a moment before taking a seat. "I mean it guys, talk to me."

From the hallway comes a blonde woman wearing a sunny yellow halter dress and strappy sandals, large white sunglasses pushed up on her head, and a book tucked beneath one arm. For most, she probably is a very, very unfamiliar face, but she moves into the room with the confidence of someone who has gotten painfully used to running into all kinds of people that have no clue who she is. Bravo doesn't move through the room, though, instead she comes to a stop a few steps in, glancing around before lifting a hand to wave, "Hi."

The Addict sits in one of the chairs, lounging in an absolutely fabulous pink dress of a velvety, clinging material that leaves very little to the imagination. His hair is shoulder-length, glossy dark waves, and his lips are ruby red. His eyeliner isn't badly done, but it's an amateur job. Someone needs to teach him the secrets of the smoky eye. He takes another drink, just a small one, and he says, "Just being with you all helps me. To see you two." He nods to the Fool and the Visionary. "Knowing you're here and not..." He lowers his gaze. "Not gone. That's the only thing I have trouble with. I miss her. She knew me for who I was, and she loved me anyway." He lifts his head and manages a small smile. "You're all always welcome to knock on my door. I'd do anything for any of you."

There's a soft laugh from the Penitent as she nods at Visionary, grinning. "It was an occasion, you saying you'd even have a drink. That's when we knew things were really serious. I felt sorry for you when you couldn't even enjoy it; though. I still don't find myself all that interested in drinking here. Though when I was on the Noc through those fancy doors, it was kind of different. Strange, huh?" She shrugs her shoulders with that little smile of hers, which grows a little more as she and the Fool discuss what happened upon their first waking. "Different mix, you're telling me." She turns a touch more thoughtful, shifting on the couch to get comfortable once again. "The woman on your door sounds more fun the woman on mine," she asides to the Visionary, before peering over at the Confidant.

"I don't remember seeing you the first time I was here. We must have never bumped into each other. But back then, I didn't really want to talk to anyone about anything important. Now ... I don't know. I'm still just me. It's calm here, and I feel like I'm where I'm meant to be. The things I need to figure out, I'm figuring them out with the people that they need to be figured out with." She pauses. "If that makes sense. But if you have some advice on what you're supposed to do next when you feel like you've kinda married your brother, I'm all ears."

The Beast arrives from off the beaten path.

The Beast heads towards The Facility - Hall of Rooms

It is indeed a motley band gathered in the parlor for the moment. The Visionary, under a mound of blankets with the Fool, raises a hand in welcome to the Bravo. "Hello, welcome. I'm Cassandra. Cassie. Cass. Whichever. In here, anyway. Helps keep things at least a little bit consistent." She nods to the Addict, a wince visible regardless of the way she tries to hide it. "She was my best friend, and with all the people who came this time, all the new faces?" She clearly hoped Fleur would be among them, too. "I think people here will pleasantly surprise you, in that regard. And. I miss her, too. Same reason."

On some level, the Visionary seems to have been waiting to see if that particular shoe was going to drop, and when the Penitent speaks, she offers an empathetic smile. "That is definitely worthy of sister night chat over a hell of a lot of wine, somewhere really gorgeous." There is a pause, and she says, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm still sorting out who knew me and who knew one of my duplicates, from the last time. I'm really grateful there were some snips of feed they sent me now and then, and we all kept in touch by datalink."

Shadows gather, returning old paths to darkness.

Confidant looks over to the entering Bravo. "Hey. I'm Chance. Merry Christmas." He smiles, big and friendly. He gesture to the dining room, with its variety of alcohol and wide spread of sandwiches, cheese and fruit. Food that travels well. Something for everybody's there. "We are thinking of celebrating because our Encounter ended around Christmas. You are welcome to join." He looks back to Penitent. "I know knew you as the person who signed my paycheck back on the island. But someone pointed you out to me in passing. Here, I've kept to myself. At first I was just...homesick. Of a home that wasn't real. The second time, I kept to myself because I was far too happy to let my mind run in circles about this place. Kept the door open though. Instinct?" He looks between Vis and Addict. "I still miss my little sister from the island, man. I feel...exposed without Helena. I was supposed to be the big protective brother but..." He smiles suddenly. "See! I'm great to talk to! I know all about it."

"Hello, Cassandra." Bravo greets, offering her a flash of a smile before she lets her eyes slide across the others, taking them each in with another smile of greeting, "Chance." She returns, then pauses, her brows furrowing before she loses the smile, "Is it Christmas?" She wonders, rolling the word around thoughtfully for a moment before she shakes her head, "I wasn't aware. It's right to get gifts for Christmas, right?" There's almost a wistful smile that appears for a moment before she adds, "I didn't get anyone any gifts, not even sure how I'd do that...But, sure, I can join in I guess." She lifts her shoulders a bit, then addresses the room as a whole, "I don't have a name, yes I'm new, no I don't have any memories....and....I think those are all the usual questions that seem to be popping up. Right? Right."

"Hi!" Penny seems pretty cheerful when she spots the Bravo, raising a hand to give a finger wriggle of a wave at the woman, beaming her smile as she gives a soft little laugh and glances to the Confidant, nodding. "All well and good, but no advice I see, on what I asked?" She gives a soft laugh and shrugs her shoulders, nodding to the Visionary. "It probably does at that. Maybe it wouldn't matter so much if we both hadn't tried to hard to keep that sibling relationship going. After the Island, he was certain he was still Conrad and tried very hard to keep me as his sister, Madison. Once he had Rhys Driscoll on top of that though, well. He didn't much care for Conrad and it was my turn to make him see my brother again. And we did. And now?" She rolls her eyes and shrugs. "We're figuring it out, but it sure is awkward." Her attention returns to Bravo, though, and she grins. "I don't think there's a real need for gifts."

The Addict raises his glass to the Bravo and says, "Hello, call me Martin." He smiles warmly. "Our presence is a gift, and in a place where we want for nothing but each others' company, it's enough." He leans forward to pluck up a strawberry, and the way he eats it is carelessly obscene. Some people are just drawn that way. "Do you have a name you want us to call you?" His smile broadens at the Confidant. "You're doing great," he tells him. Then, to the Visionary, "I'm glad you're here, partly because you get it, because you knew her, too. You and Isaac became like a brother and sister to me. I don't know what I'd do if all my family was gone. Or worse, indifferent."

"I remember Helena," the Visionary says with a sudden nod. "Met her at the airport, that first time we met, on the way to the island. She scared the crap out of me then, but later on, I have to admit, I liked her. She had fire, and didn't take shit from anybody. Something to be said for that." At the mention of gifts, she rolls her shoulders in a tiny shrug. She's presently enveloped in a giant mound of blankets with the Fool, as though their powers combined to create the world's first roving blanket fort. "I don't think gifts are likely possible here, with how fussy this place is. But-" Pausing, there's a slow grin forming at her lips. "They used to tell ghost stories for Christmas, you know? More than on Halloween. Nothing like a good Christmas ghost story -- but... maybe not here. Not inclined to give anyone any ideas." She takes in a quick breath, and suggests, "We could trade stories, though. Somewhere by a fire. Things don't need to be tangible, or solid, to be gifts. Could be a story. A song. Some of us play music, I know. Silly, maybe, but... sharing things. Things that we won't lose, since they're here -- and not some solid thing they can move, or erase."

"Truth?" the Visionary murmurs, a brow arching to Martin. "Whenever someone turns up here that I remember fondly, I think the same thing every time: 'I am so grateful, and so sorry, that you're here.' Because this is a confusing and stressful place to be that I wouldn't wish on anyone, especially people I care about, at least the parts when we're living strange lives and remember nothing else, but if people have to be? Ones who give a damn about each other are precious beyond measure. It makes more difference than I ever imagined it could."

"Oh, Nettie." The Confidant rolls his eyes at Penitent. "I...fuck, it's the same thing I tell everyone. Follow your heart and listen to your gut. Logic isn't going to work here. We have to work on something more...base. So you married your brother. How do you see him now? How does he see you? We don't have time to be...thoughtful about it. Next time around, you might be his sister again. Or not know him at all. Or have to bear witness to another face in here taking your place as spouse or sibling. Live in the now. Tomorrow is not promised here. Tomorrow, Senni could be ripping my teeth out with pilers. I don't know! So, I love her now beca--" He stops dead on his words and turns pink again. And hard pivots with a look to Vis. "Helena didn't let me be anyone's doormat. She...I get the other brunette instead. Irene Colton." Outlaw, Widow and most loyal protector of Jody DeWitt. "She's been with me three times."

The Fool blinks slowly and then just cackle laughs because this is all fucking hilarious to him for some reason. "No but hi, when we're here, I go by Rafe, if you can't get into your room for some reason, just find me, my door's the one with the jester hanging by his foot from an oak tree," he just positively twinkles at his door every time. Then he has to look at Jody and nod slowly. "Ain't no shame in loving someone, man. You /should/ be ashamed to think you were keeping that hidden though!" He teases with a wink before nestling closer to Visionary, "Seriously darlin, time to hop to with the place and the stories, we're not getting any further away from getting sucked back into the Matrix."

"Name? No." Bravo replies to the Addict with a shake of her head, "I tried out Bunny for a little while, but that didn't work out, and I don't always wear the slippers." She brightens when Penny waves, a hand lifting to wave in return before she moves towards where she's at as the only one in the room she's met before. There is a nod for the Visionary at the mention of stories, "I like plays." She lifts the book she's been carrying with her, a finger lightly tapping it, "I used one of those doors, and on the otherside was a playhouse...with a stage and seats, everything. Would be a grand area for there to be stories and things shared, or I guess music as well."

When she reaches Penny she leans in towards her ear, pointing out quietly, "Make your own memories." Then she shrugs, moving to a more acceptable distance. "So everyone here was part of the western story then? Demons and all that sort of stuff?" She glances from one person to another, pausing when the Fool introduces himself as well, giving him a smile as well.

"It's the only life I remember," Martin says. "Prosperity. I think I must have been stunted, because my father tried to protect me from everyone and everything else. Then he died, and these fine folks continued my education." He gestures around at the others with his glass. "Then I woke up here, and apparently I'm some kind of deviant." He glances down at himself in that ravishing dress. "Because this is what I like. It's not just that it's in my room so I wear it. I love this dress." He shakes his head. "Anyway. It's nice to meet you."

"I think," the Visionary says as she nudges the Fool with a bump of her hip visible enough even through the huddle of blankets, "We should put something like that on the whiteboard, so while tonight we can just chow down like ravenous badgers, that? Maybe we should give people a little time to get there. Have a feeling more folks will want to make sure they don't miss it." Her teeth catch at her lips from the inside, pinning them together in a neat little line as she looks at him. "Most of us were. There are a few new faces, like yourself, though... " She is surely never going to let this theory of hers drop. "If you want to find a name, and you're willing to help me out with a little experiment? Head over to the bookshelves, and take one of the name books. There are a few. Open it to a random page without looking, and just point." That does not sound like anything resembling the scientific method. "If you like it, keep it. If you don't, just... do me a favor, and remember what it was, if you can?" There's a tiny glint of curiosity in her eyes that's infectious as she asks, "A playhouse? Classic theater?" Clearly shiny to her.

Her eyes cut to Martin, particularly at the description of himself. The Angeline lingering in her is still assuredly riling up for a speech. "Liking what you like does not make you a deviant, Martin, love. It means you like it, that's all. A fair number of us have died. A fairer number have killed someone along the way, if not someones. Working at the casino on the Noc, I can assure you that there was enough scandal, bed-hopping, and skiing down veritable mountains of cocaine into pools of scotch that it makes this place look like a convent."

"If anyone here feels the need to be judgy?" She snorts delicately. "They can, plainly, go fuck themselves."

Did someone say deviant? Because here's one now: appearing in the entryway to the parlor, tall, thin, pale, and dressed in head to toe black. He leans up against the doorframe, smoking a cigarette, letting the smoke out in a small, controlled sheet that moves upwards towards his nose. The Deviant takes in the scene first, seeing whom is where, doing what and talking to whom, and also importantly: what video is currently playing on the telly

"I see him in two very different ways, and they blur together to make a lot of awkwardness. These memories ... are hard to reconcile." Penny replies with a vague smile at the Confidant's words, shrugging her shoulders. "We are figuring it out, and yes, we've spoken about the possibility that the nature of our relationship could drastically be changed once again, for all we know. But it doesn't matter really." She smils at Bravo, inclining her head a little and nodding at those words. "Oh, yes of course. I'm just curious what others think about it, and besides: he asked people to talk to him. So I asked." She glances at the Confidant and gives a wink. Apparently she's not so hung up on this question as first appeared. She's had a bit of time to work it through in her mind, of course.

She grins at the Visionary, chuckling. "Oh, the name thing. Natalie never did feel right for me though." The name she got when she first tried a name book herself, which feels like it was a long while ago now. She peers at the newcomer as well, lifting her hand to give that finger wriggle of a wave.

"An experiment?" Bravo tilts her head a bit, glancing towards the bookshelf in question, her finger tapping very lightly on the book that is already in her hand before she nods, "I'm game." She decides after a moment, setting her book down, pointing at it, "No one run away with that, please...I'm not even done with it, and Hamlet is just starting to get interesting." She might be telling the facility as much as the others in the room, considering how things have a bad habit of rearranging themselves during sleep.

"But yeah, a playhouse...classic theater. I was practicing Romeo and Juliet in it, fantastic acoustics. Right?" She then moves towards the shelf, picking up one of the name books before moving towards the Visionary, flipping the book open and pointing to something in one smooth motion, but instead of looking at it herself, she just holds it out towards the woman that wanted the experiment conducted. She glances back towards Penny, "If no one else comes to see the playhouse, you should come see it, especially after you shared your loader with me. Fair trade, yeah?"

The Addict smiles at Cassie as she winds up for a speech, and he says gently, "No one has given me any trouble. Everyone has been great. I just have trouble sometimes reconciling Martin's convictions with my own, whatever they are. I'm still figuring them out. I just know that the moment I put this on, I felt beautiful, which is better than feeling ugly." He's in a velvety pink dress that clings to his body, with a long skirt falling to his bare feet. His lips are ruby red, and his eyes lined inexpertly but not badly. He contemplates the discussion for a moment before he says, "I don't know what we'll be to each other in our next life, but I intend to spend as much time with Arthur as his lover as I can, because it might all be gone next time. Or it might not." He swirls the light booze in his glass as his attention slides to the Deviant. He smiles warmly. "Dirk, was it? Come join us, please. It's good to see you."

"Making friends, are we?" The Deviant's whispery, Yorkshire-tinged question appears to be for Bravo, because he's looking her way with some amusement. Not that she's much looking his way right now. He takes a slow look around the room after that, his gray eyes moving along curiously from face to face, until they finally land on the Addict. Then he smirks a touch, inclining his head as he strolls further into the room. "Evening to you. Looking lovely." He says it more like 'luvleh,' given the accent.

The Confidant leans towards the Addict. "Okay, this is me, calling you from 2018 and 2149, okay? We don't see you as a deviant, alright? I know your frame of reference is totally different, I mean, Jody was really uncomfortable with Sebastian and Colorado, at first. He'd never say it but...he was a man of his time, that's all. Jody hit women without a second thought too. Dick. Anyway, nothing is wrong with you. Live in the now. If it feels good, fuck it." He regards Penitent as he stands up. "See, you didn't even need me." He winks. "Like I said, here is where we process, relax and savor." He heads towards the bookshelves and pulls down a name book, he flips through the pages as he speaks. "Hey, Dirk. We were discussing Yule. Celebrating since our previous encounter ended close to Christmas." He stops the pages and opens up in the As. "Atticus. Hrm. Atticus. I like that. I like Chance better for myself but I will remember it. As I do every other pointless thing." He mutters, a bit darkly. He thinks for a moment and then pats himself down. "I need a marker. Just...hold on. Be back..." He says to no one in particular before heading towards his room.

Dressed in a black dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up wo the elbows, tucked into black slacks, the Capitalist enters the parlor while absently straightening his tie with a well-practiced hand. As always, he looks well-groomed, always put-together, especially since waking up this third time in this place.

There is a terribly large crowd gathered today, much to the man's chagrin and there's an idle gesture that may be a wave or something more dismissive as he wanders to the kitchen for some coffee. Thee's no rush on his end to join in the conversation and he takes his time in front of those fancy monitors to figure out what exactly he wants. The coffee is chosen first, like always. Today it's a cappuccino. While, he might not actually care for something to eat, he's idly flipping through the menus on the screen anyway, giving him some time to take in what the topic of the moment is out in that crowd.

Someone actually playing along with her insanity isn't something the Visionary is accustomed to, so when the Bravo finds a book from the shelf and holds it open, she leans in to squint and read off the name to which she's pointing. "Viktoria. Means... Victorious, in Latin. Not a hard call, I suppose, but that's... actually really sharp." She sinks into a lean against the Fool, letting his solidity support her under the heap of blankets. "I like it, but... if you don't... " Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. "Sometimes it's easier than 'hey, you', at least for the time being."

"Martin, you are stunning. You've never not been stunning, I mean, even Angeline noticed." She stretches out a hand to point to the Confidant, and says, "That. Seriously. Don't even stress it. If you feel good? Do it. Have you seen how many people wander around in boxer shorts and nothing else around here?" Her hand sweeps over herself and the Fool. "We are sharing a sarong and an assortment of blankets, at the moment, and I feel fantastic."

"Can't say I cared for Jody DeWitt much either. Or at least, Nettie didn't like him especially." Penny admits with a little apologetic smile for the Confidant, shrugging her shoulders and then nodding at the Addict. "Oh, you're fine, certainly. Though it guess it must be difficult with only Prosperity is a life to draw on." She leans back in her little couch spot, giving a nod to the Deviant, before her gaze switches to Bravo proper. "I'll come along to the playhouse, sure! Are you going to perform for me?" She grins at that idea for whatever reason. Her gaze does track the Capitalist as he moves through the parlo, watching him with that vaguely thoughtful expression.

"Friends?" Bravo wonders, glancing in the Deviant's direction, offering him a smile, "I am at least making the attempt to make friends. I'm not entirely sure just yet how it's going, but I have faith that my winning personality will win out in the end." Since there seems to be more than one arrival, she offers the other new arrival a quick greeting as well, "Hey, C."

Then the Visionary is providing the name that she was pointing to, and her attention shifts back towards the book, peering over the top, then she flips the book back around towards herself to read the name as well. "I'll try it...might stick better than Bunny did." She decides, snapping the book closed to return it to the shelf before she moves to pick up her own book before she starts to try and wedge herself right onto the couch with Penny, "I certainly can. I think I've got all the lines from Romeo and Juliet down now, haven't yet gotten the ones from Hamlet, though...or..." She starts flipping the book open, turning to the table of contents, then offers it to Penny, "You can pick one of you prefer one of those. I'll learn it."

The Addict murmurs, "Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo." He ducks his head and grins boyishly at the Confidant's words. "If three of you, two from the future, say that I'm all right, then I'm all right." He smooths the skirt along his thigh, crossing one leg over the other. "Martin was scared of that part of himself, the part that loved Arthur as well as Fleur. Maybe his father saw it. Maybe that's why he kept him under such tight control." His brow furrows, then his features soften, and he says, "I'm so lucky for you all. That's what I choose to take from all of this. Even Jody DeWitt, for all his flaws, he helped me become a better person." He knocks back the last of his drink. "I like Bunny, but it seems kind of intimate."

The Deviant glances after the Capitalist as he enters and heads off again. He turns to Bravo again and smirks, then heads towards the television. He turns it on, but not the sound -- it's on mute, even as the images are flashing across the screen. It's on mute, but a big-haired Axl Rose appears to be singing something about a jungle. The Deviant stands by and smokes, watching the screen whenever he's not watching one of the others. "We're doing Shakespeare?" The question is asked, but he's not looking at anyone in particular while he asks it; perhaps GnR are just that riveting.

The Fool grunts and promtly abandons the blanket fort for just a moment so he can waltz over to Martin clad in only the top..or is that the bottom half of Ange's hippie sarong. He captures the man's cheeks with his hands and looks him in the eyes. "You are perfect, and you are our family no matter what. Fuck everything and everyone else that says otherwise. We love you," he says without issues or hangups and promptly hugs the cousin from the previous life super tight before finally dropping him again rather unceremoniously. "Cass! Blankets!" he calls, eagerly swooping into her to get scooped into the blanket monster. "Away! We shall find a place to hold festivus for the rest of us!" ANd then she's scooped by the ass and literally carried out like she's on an airplane, replete with VVRRRRROOOOM noises, the blankets fluttering behind them to show glimpses of toned calf and backside.

No, just coffee this time and some much needed away from the masses moment to himself, even if the rest of the gang are just in the next room and the Capitalist just got here. With his coffee mug in one hand, the other tucked away in pants pocket, he emerges from the kitchen to get a better look at all of the faces gathered here. There are some who he hasn't seen since Prosperity and the other, the new faces, which he may have met in passing, The Bravo aside. Instead of joining them immediately, one of his favorite spots in the parlor is the archway leading to the kitchen and on this he leans against, taking a sip from his mug.

Having heard his name, or first letter of his two of his names, called out in passing, the Capitalist knows exactly who that was and in the sea of faces, he gives a belated nod in response to Bravo, though his eyes focus on the Penitent for a time, meeting her gaze.

Having overheard some of which is said, he is interested in seeing how well those with memories from only Prosperity have been dealing with, well, all of this. Thus, his gaze falls on Martin in that dress. There's no reaction from him, just a long, steady stare. Eventually, he speaks up, "Glad to see that you're doing well for yourself here." The rest of 'holiday spirit antics' get a brief glance, but at least he's not shaking his head at it all. Yet.

"You don't look like a Bunny." The Confidant says to Bravo, marker in hand. "You look like something stronger. Viktoria might be it. It's means something. Like Chance. It's all a roll of a die somewhere." He muses as he grabs a chair from the dining room and begins to survey the walls of the parlor. He's been in here already, though only two phrases are on the walls. 'Why 1980s?' is over the TV. Again. This time he picks a spot over a bookcase. "Dude, I've been both straight, gay, and then possibly bisexual. Or I just liked Jonah, I'm not sure. Didn't have time to figure it out." He begins to write, what will be, 'Tomorrow Is A Promise But Where Will You Wake?' "Thanks, Martin. When Jody cried to you, that was...really something for him. He needed a friend and felt so alone." He pauses to work on his lettering. And then, out of the blue, "I think I'm bisexual here too. Maybe even pan. Jody loved. Loved hard. So do I. I don't care what's between your legs." The Capitalist is noticed now and Confidant's big blue eyes dart between he and Penitent. He clears his throat and wonders, aloud, "I wonder how Heck's feeling..."

"Friends." Penny assures Bravo, shuffling a little to make room for her on the couch and nodding. "So then, Viktoria," she tries the name on, nodding at the lines. "I don't know that I prefer any of them really," she admits, peering at the table of contents in the book offered her by Bravo, nodding slowly. "No one I've been has been particularly knowledgable about Shakespeare." She considers it for a moment longer, though her gaze does lift up when she hears the Capitalist speaking, glancing at him and offering a small little smile. It's quickly interrupted by the chaos of the Fool and Visionary making their rather animated depature, and she looks after them wide-eyed, shaking her head after a moment and laughing. "What about Merchant of Venice? That one sounds familiar for some reason." She resumes, glancing at Bravo.

"What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel?" Bravo replies to the line that the Addict offers, glancing towards him at that with a smile before she addresses both the ones that mention Bunny, "It was because I had on my bunny slippers at the time, and it just seems like a great idea. But I'm going to try out this Viktoria thing for a bit, see how it fits. I'm all open for everyone's opinions on the name, too."

The rather flamboyant exit gets a brief look, then she looks back down at the table of contents, sliding a finger down until she finds a page number, then begins to turn to the page that Merchant of Venice starts on, "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me; you say it wearies you..." She reads, then smiles at Penny, "Alright, I'll work on this one, and perform it....Uuuunnnnleesss..." She draws that last word out, tucking her finger inside the book before she folds it, "I guess that you could come watch me practice. This thought evidently is an important one, because she spends a good amount of time thinking about it, slouching in her seat, legs crossing before she settles the book on her lap. Eventually she dismisses the thinking, and lets her attention shift towards the Confidant again at the throat clearing, then back and forth between Capitalist and Penny, "You're both welcome to come watch."

The Addict gazes up at the Fool, and he can't help but laugh with delight. "You're just as perfect," he says. "I adore you. So many of you." He leans back, grinning until there are dimples, a look of pure delight upon him. Then he sits up a bit taller and inclines his head to the Capitalist. "It's good to see you looking well," he replies. He ducks his head then and tries to hide a smile behind a sip of his drink only to find he's emptied the glass already. Smooth. To the Confidant, he says, "We needed each other that night. It was about the best we could hope for given everything going on. I'm glad you were there." He polishes off the strawberry, then admits, "I'm still very much attracted to both men and women. I'm quite preoccupied most of the time."

His questions ignored, the Deviant heads off to the dispensary, busy in there for a few moments. He returns with a dark, unlabeled bottle and two thin glasses, and places one in front of the Addict, filling it to the brim, then offering it to him. He then pours himself one and takes a small sip, but he still hasn't sat down yet. Perhaps he hasn't decided if it's worth his while.

Viktoria? Are people making up names for themselves again? The Capitalist never knew what to make out of any of that, so instead of making any sort of comment, he simply takes another sip from his mug. This conversation on Shakespeare, which doesn't really hold his interest, captures a small amount of his attention. He's been to the stage, after all. "It would be a wonder if you're able to put together a full production." Another sip of that delicious milk foam blended with several shots of espresso. Licking the foam from his lips, he continues, "The more in the production, the smaller your audience."

At the mention of Heck, his posture relaxes slightly, shoulders slouching as he removes his free hand from his pocket to cross over his chest with his arm holding the coffee mug. "How many first-timers are actually here?" He's met a few, of course, but this is a topic that somewhat interests him, "And who else is missing?" He has to consider Martin's words for a moment, before stating, "Thanks the sacrifices made and the hard work done by all, I survived Prosperity. The best ending out of all of my memories combined."

Watching the Deviant pouring that drink for the Addict has the Penitent tilting her head slightly, curiosity evident there before she glances back at Bravo. "I'll come watch you practice, sure," she says, brows arching up at the thought that idea seems to provoke in the other woman. She does glance away as the Capitalist speaks of productions, nodding slowly. "I guess it depends on how many you really need on stage at once, if some people could play multiple parts, or ... whatever." She's not really sure what all would go into it.

"There seems to be a few," she speaks up after a moment, to the Capitalist on first timers, she just gives him a bit of a shrug, lifting her hands, palms upturned. "Quite a few it seems. Heck I've only seen very briefly, passing through here. And who's to say who still hasn't come out of their rooms yet, possibly."

"Well, not much of a play if there's no audience, right?" Bravo wonders, an amused smile tugging at one corner of her mouth before she finally circles back around to answering a question that got lost in the shuffle. She glances towards Deviant, "Yeah, I've been reading a lot of Shakespeare since waking up...Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet..." She glances down at the book she's been carting around with her, "Now Merchant of Venice, it seems." She taps her finger lightly against the book before she curls it in to tuck against her side. "I guess though....if others really want to be part of the play it'd be really unfair to say no." There is something about the words that cause her to frown, but it's a very brief thing.

With a quick shake of her head, she turns her attention back towards the rest, letting her eyes shift towards Capitalist, studying the man and his coffee for a little bit. Then she glances at Penny again, watching her before she turns to look around the room, and study the rest of those in it. The Addict gets a bit of a lingering look before she leans forward, "First time?" She wonders, a hand lifting upwards to point towards her eyes, possibly indicating what she's meaning.

"I think..." The Confidant begins, jumping from the chair. "Dirk and Viktoria are two of three, I believe, without memories. No Encounters. Or...maybe four? I'm crossing faces and new doors or old doors with new art. My memory can't quite catch up to that yet." He sniffs. "Martin, Eilis, Heck, and Arthur are Prosperity fresh, for sure. Heck's door is new. Arthur's as well." He is all frowns, pouts and furrowed brows. Like he's lost in that big ginger head of his. "Shakespeare? Is that what you guys were talking about? I've never read Shakespeare. I'll watch you, Viktoria. Nothing wrong with a little education, right?" He's troubled, gloomy and once he realizes it, he scoffs. "Fuckin'...sad again." He snorts. "You and Nettie did good?" He asks Capitalist. "I'm glad. My first ending was the best but...yeah, I need to recharge." He turns up a sad smile for the group. "See you guys around. Hopefully here. Just a little while longer..." He pauses and looks at the Addict. "I swear I remember the last face that came from your door. And uh, hers..." He indicates the Healer's door. "She was my...friend and then vanished. I think if I can find some similarities...it'll be a piece of this puzzle. I think, after enough go 'rounds, I'll need a board or something in my room to keep up with this."

The Deviant still has his cigarette, and he smokes it languidly. "I know, luv," he tells the Bravo, gesturing towards her. "You've told me. Seems to be a bit of an anchor for you. I wonder why." He nods at the Confidant, half-turning to better take in the Capitalist. "I'm the Dirk he speaks of. No memories, no space stations, no Western towns, no death, no connections." He flicks some ash onto the ground, one corner of his mouth moving upwards. "Perhaps you should envy us." His gray eyes move to the Confidant as he turns to go, and he raises his glass to him, briefly.

The Addict watches the glass getting filled, and he inclines his head to the Deviant as he says, "Thank you." Trusting soul that he is, he takes a sip without inquiring what it is. "It's good to see you," he tells the man. "We definitely need to get together soon." He raises his glass to the Capitalist. "It was a terrible situation, but I think it brought out the best in a lot of us." The Confidant gets a sidelong look when he drops an F-bomb. His featurse soften though as he's addressed. "I feel dreadful about the vanished ones. I only hope they've been freed and can move on from this. Don't be sad, Chance. Just take care of yourself."

That said, he nods to the Bravo. "I'm trying to learn. Arthur does them so much better than I do, but I can't bother him all the time to do my makeup. They don't look too bad, do they? The first time I tried, I looked like a raccoon."

"Dirk, eh?" The Capitalist says with a tilt of his head, "And yet no memories." He refrains from shaking his head and instead takes another sip from his mug to keep himself from saying anything more of that matter. "Well, DIRK, it's nice to meet you." Before he murmurs, "I'm sure we'll be calling you something else before too long." His eyes turn to the television again. In his mind, the music video and the 80's vibe is something ominous, for he's seen what happened the last time, with the Westerns. But all of this comes to mind now, when pondering their new names, new lives.

To the rest of the room, though mostly to those who have been here before, he brings up, "So Ashlund is gone." He speaks of the former Healer, "There was a guy dressed in black that showed up one day after the Island, but then never again. And then the Priest..." It's when his mind focuses on the Priest that his brow furrows. Did he recognize that face after so long?

"Why should we envy you?" Penny asks the Deviant thoughtfully, her tone full of curiosity, though she's quickly glancing at the Confidant offering a vague wave in departing, though her attention is upon the others sticking around. "If you want to do a solo performance though there's no reason you can't just try for that," she assures Bravo on that lingering frown in regards to others perhaps wanting to be a part of her play. "Really, we can do basically anything we want, it seems. She does give an absent smile for the Addict when talking with Bravo about his eyes, but her attention slips back to the discussion between Deviant and Capitalist, brows lifting up at the Capitalist's words. "I remember that guy showing up. But what priest?"

"Not sure...I think it's just because it was the first thing I picked up to read, and then there was a whole lot of it." Bravo replies with a shrug, "Not sure that there are any anchors to it." But then she nods to the Confident, "Yes...that is what we're talking about. Very interesting stuff, and as soon as I've got what I need to memorize...memorized, I'll bring everyone to the theater for a production of it." This is called after him, hopefully before he gets too far away.

To the Addict she shakes her head, shifting forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "Ummm...no?" She ventures, shaking her head, "Not really, but I can tell your not used to doing it. If you'd like, I can show you the best ways to do it...or whatever. I mean, your choice." She smiles, leaning back in her seat once more, glancing at Penny, "Basically anything, yeah. I can think of a thing or two that doesn't seem to be on the okay list so far. One thing in particular. But I'm still waiting to see if the answer to that one changes." It's spoken almost flippantly, super casual before she adds for Capitalist, echoing Penny, "What priest?"

"Yes, we must," the Deviant says, agreeing with the Addict. He snubs his cigarette out on the sole of his pointy shoes, because there's no immediate ashtray around. Then he lifts his chin, staring into the Capitalist's face. "The name came to me. I like it, but I don't care a mite what you call me." He turns to Penny and says, rather matter-of-factly, "Because myself and...'Viktoria,' is it?" There's an amused glance Bravo's way. "...we lack the pain and trauma that comes with your memories. We may not have bonds or histories, but in a way, we're free." His voice is soft and sibilant and accented, which makes the words seem somewhere between soothing and sinister. Then he leans down to whisper into the ear of the Addict.

The Addict tells the Bravo, "We could have all sorts of fun, if you wanted to come to my room sometime. Arthur and I play in there for hours." He sounds so guileless when he says it. There are still traces of the old Martin in him, painfully innocent. Or ignorant, at least. "I've got all sorts of clothes and makeup." Then he tilts his head to take in Dirk's whisper. He smiles slowly, looks up at him, and murmurs, "Okay." So agreeable.

The Capitalist says in response to the Deviant, "Once you've experienced living these lives for yourself, you may very well think otherwise." To the odd man's boasting of being lucky enough to not having any of these traumas and such, he does add, pushing his frame off from against the archway now, "I said something similar to the actress," He looks to Bravo, as he's obviously not going to use 'Viktoria'. "Not for the reasons you've given, but because without memories, she has her own personality, her own interests, not being guided by who she was in a previous life. That, to me, is very intruiging." He then quickly states, "And don't worry, the pain and trauma will come. You can count on it." Turning to the tele again, he then asks the room, "So only MTV? No 80's movies? That's some missed opportunities there, because there's only so much music videos one can take, when there was far more to the decade."

There's an arch of his brow when the Penitent inquires about the priest, "You don't recall seeing him? He came out shortly after the man in the black t-shirt. I didn't trust either of them as they both had no memories of the island. But he was bald, dressed in priest's garb, but you know what? That fucker was Victor."

"One thing in particular?" Penny asks of Bravo, curious on what it may be. Given the casual nature of the statement from the other woman, she doesn't have any clues! Though she does give a soft laugh at Martin's words and the innocence they're delivered with, leaning back and shaking her head a little. "Free to do what, though?" She presses on the Deviant, inclining her head slightly and peering at him. There's a slight nod at Capitalist's idea of what that might be, considering it. "I suppose you are free to just be whoever you are, but I found that kind of happens anyway as you become a ... collection of memories."

She meets the Capitalist's gaze at his direct question, shaking her head. "I think I must've gone back to my room or something after that guy came out. I don't remember a priest at all. But ... Victor? A priest?" She frowns at this apparent identification of someone. "But you said he didn't have memories of the Island?"

The Deviant laughs a little. It mostly stays in his mouth; he's not exactly boisterous. "It's not bloody likely," comes his response to the Capitalist, almost flippantly. What isn't likely? The pain, the trauma, or the idea that he should want to have them? Then he adds, "Like 'the actress,' I've got the same things as she. It is curious, isn't it?" He finally decides to take a seat, next to the Addict if he can. He's busy getting out another cigarette, offering one to the Addict first, and if he sees the Addict's glass getting too low, he'll top him off. He catches Penny's glance and stares back at her, lips vaguely pursed, but the corners turned up.

There's a very slight upwards twitch of her brows, then Bravo shakes her head, "Not sure I'm liking this name." No reason for not liking it is provided, however. Just the declaration that she's not as keen on it as she might have been at first. But then she takes a breath, adding for Deviant, "We might be lacking the trauma and pain, but we're also lacking the good things. The love and the caring, the passion and the sense of belonging. So for that, I envy them. I plan to try and get as much of the good in as I can before the bad comes." She pauses, glancing at those that have a recent memory of Prosperity, that frown appearing again, "Which it seems will inevitably happen."

But speaking of GOOD things. She glances back at Addict, nodding, "Sure, or you can come to my room...I've plenty of makeup as well. But whichever one you're the most comfortable with is fine with me." She curls her hands over the book before she slants a look at Penny, her brows pulling inwards with an incredulous look for her before she laughs, realizing that Penny doesn't get it. "Right...yeah, one thing. We talked about it...on the Noc?"

The Addict takes the offered cigarette and he scoots a little to make room, then crosses one leg over the other posh as ever. He makes smoking look cool, kids. "That would be great," he tells the Bravo. "We could just have a... whatever you call a multi-gender girl's day. It'll be fun. Oh! Maybe we should turn the Anywhere Room into a spa sometime. We could just soak and drink." He takes his refilled glass and raises it to the Deviant amiably. "It's too bad we can't summon a masseuse. Maybe I'll learn how to do it from one of these books." He takes a drink, paying perhaps less attention to how much he's imbibing than he should.

The Artist drifts back in after quite a while away, flip-flops in hand. They aren't for him: he's in leather today, from heeled thigh highs to miniskirt to corset, glossy black against his bone-white skin. "I found them!" No elaboration on where he's been, but he's certainly the distractable sort. Martin is without shoes tonight, so perhaps they're for him!

"Because he's a liar." Is the Capitalist's flat response to the Penitent's question as to why Victor would have no memories of the Island. "He was a liar on the island, why not be a liar here?" Taking a few steps forward now, cooling cappuccino mug in hand, he approaches the seating area where most have gathered, but doesn't take a seat, instead, he looms behind the Penitent's chair, "And I'm sure he was afraid of any retaliation he thought he'd get. Maata--" He says the Hunter's name, pausing briefly, before continuing on, "Would have more than just words with him." Though there's more to that as well, a thought and a memory flashing within his mind of the pair of them.

When The Bravo speaks up, though he had told her that he was envious of her 'blank slate' state of mind, what she does say is something that he can mostly agree with. "Just think of it as a lifetime, or that's how long you're given. I can't guarantee that all of them will be happy memories, I'm sure there are some individuals who just can't catch a break, but you take that and move on. Until..." He lifts the mug to his lips, but continues on before going in for another sip, "We free ourselves from this place." The entrance of his Uncle Art gets a mild glance, but as this talk of a spa-day definitely doesn't interest him, the mention of the Noc does. "Ready for the full tour of the station?" He looks to Bravo with this inquiry.

"If you say so, luv," the Deviant tells Bravo. His eyes move slowly towards the ceiling -- maybe there's something up there? He lights up Addict's cigarette with a match, if he lets him, before lighting his own. "I'm quite good with my hands. You could let me try." That's also to the Addict. The Artist draws his attention, as he will, and the Deviant tilts his head to watch him for a moment, seeming very amused.

"Oh! The Noc," Penny understands, and can't help but give a slight smile there, her gaze moving away from the Deviant to glance at Bravo once more. It's an appraising look. "New experiences, hmm?" After that, she happens to look at the Capitalist, brows arching upwards with something of a curiosity there in her eyes before he's responding about 'Victor' once again, tilting her head up and shifting on the couch to look at him now that he's standing behind her. "Well, I suppose. Quite a few of us have done things we're not exactly proud of when out and about, but that doesn't necessarily define who we are here. None of us liked Victor, but ..." she trails off, because she really doesn't have anything good to say about him, it seems.

The Artist returns and she shakes her head, settling back down to consider. "In the end, I can't say which sounds better. They're not all happy memories, but there are good moments in there. Would I trade them out for the bad?" A pause. "I don't know." Now she's thinking, staring across the way, not really focusing on anyone or anything in particular.

"I'd just call it a day." Bravo offers, one corner of her mouth kicking upwards a brief moment before she glances at Deviant, then the new arrival as well, "But sure, whenever." This last part is spoken regarding the plan for makeup, or maybe the spa day. It's a slightly ambiguously aimed answer.

When she's asked about the full tour she gets to her feet, tucking her book beneath her arm, "Very ready. What I got to see before was amazing, and I can't wait to see the rest of it." She glances down at Penny when she finally gets what she was meaning, grinning at her, "Yeah, new experiences. You're coming, right? For the full tour."

The Addict leans in to light his cigarette, then murmurs, "Thank you," to the Deviant. His features light up when he sees Arthur. "Hey, beautiful." He gets to his feet, skirt swishing around his legs as he goes to meet the pale-haired artist. The alcohol he's been drinking has started to make him rather merry, and he greets Arthur with a kiss. Not a chaste peck on the lips, either. "Have you met Dirk?" he asks when he comes up for air. He gestures to the Deviant with his cigarette. "Dirk, this is Arthur, the one I've told you about."

The Artist blinks his big, red eyes dreamily. "Hello." That's to both the Addict and the Deviant. "I saw him the other day. You told him about me?" 'Is that good or bad?' one can probably infer from his tone. "I'm glad to see that you've been making friends." The drinking doesn't seem to ruffle him one way or the other, for he's very much a laissez-faire type of guy. "Are we going somewhere?" he asks Cillian quite curiously.

The Capitalist isn't going to argue with the Penitent about everyone having done 'bad things' and instead finishes up the remainder of his coffee, before leaning forward to set the the now empty mug on the table in front of the couches. That's quite a stretch. Straightening up to his full height, one hand reaching up to run fingers through his hair. "And yet we own up to what we've done. No faking amnesia or coming out dressed like a priest." For Victor was no saint.

He notices the hesitation that the Penitent gives as she ponders the merits of taking the good with the bad. Of course, he has his own ideas. "You know my feelings on things. I'd much rather be out there, as futile as that may seem. It's even more futile to be sitting around here and not making anything of yourself." A comforting hand is placed upon the slope of the Penitent's shoulder, when he crouches down behind her chair to hover over its back, "Then again, I'd survived twice. The second time being the most pleasant." From his crouched position, his eyes lift to look across the way at Arthur, "At some point. I think that Eilis would also enjoy exploring the Noc as well."

"Good evening, Arthur," the Deviant greets the Artist, though of course, one can't really tell the time of day in here, if there is one at all. "He's been quite sociable, yes." Catching some of Capitalist's words, he comments idly: "One can make something of oneself anywhere, don't you think?" Not that he's involved in that particular rung of the conversation. He empties his glass and tops himself off, then the Addict.

"Of course I'll come to the Noc with you all." Penny beams at Bravo, nodding her head. "Who knows what might happen next time we go there." With that just sort of left there, she glances back over her shoulder to the Capitalist, nodding. "No, you're right. Coming out and pretending not to know is a bit much, even for him. Though I wonder why a priest's outfit was even in his room." She frowns at a particular thought, and then shakes her head, glancing back at the others as she leans back, comfortable with the Capitalist's hand upon her shoulder. "Sure, being out there or in here isn't really the point right now though. If you're in here regardless, is it better to remember or not?" A pause. "Would she? Eilis didn't seem given to long conversations when I saw her. But I think it'd be fun." She glances at the Deviant, considering his words quietly as she watches the other three thoughtfully.

"Oh. Not now." Bravo doesn't have it in her to look embarrassed by her impatience, but she does at least retake her seat when it's determined that now isn't the time for the tour. She recrosses her legs, dropping her book back into her lap before she crosses her arms over her chest, toes tapping at the air as she focuses straight ahead for a little while.

"Maybe he was an actor." Bravo suggests of the man she doesn't even know. Then she glances over at Penny, grinning at her, "Who knows. I imagine that whatever happens will at least be something worth remembering. Actually, I'm certain of it." There's a glances between Penny and Capitalist, inserting a question into their conversation, "What's the point right now?"

The Addict slips on the flipflops, which Arthur got for him, after all, and he tells him, "I've told him how amazing you are." He inclines his head to the Deviant in silent thanks as his glass is topped off again. He takes a drink, his speech slurring a little as he says, "I need to go find... there's something I wanted to find. To show you." The 'you' he's referring to isn't clear here. "I'll be right back." Of course he won't be right back. He'll doze off in the middle of looking for whatever it is he's got in mind, and he probably won't remember what it was come 'morning.'

The Artist watches Martin go with a complicated sort of expression. "All right." Only when the naive young man is gone does he turn back to the Deviant. "You seem to know me better than I you." His smile is faint, friendly but reserved all at once. And the others get a look, too. Will he stay? Will he go? Who knows? He doesn't seem to be in a hurry to chase after Martin, despite the affection that's passed between them.

"Not on such a scale as actually living a life rather than being confined here in these walls." The Capitalist says, slowly rising from his crouched position. "Things don't matter much here and as everyone has stopped looking for a way out, there's very little progress to be made. Living our lives out there, however, the world is so much larger. Your actions feel far more important, it's do or die. There's progress to your actions, consequences as well. Here?" It's not hard to see that the Capitalist hates how idle the world here feels.

A nod is then given to the Penitent, "To desire to remember the good and the bad of one's many past lives or to have no memories and bad experiences at all? In that case, I'd go with the former. My interest in the latter only came about after speaking with the actress, hearing her thoughts on various matters."

With some bit of morbid interest, Martin's drunken gait as he leaves the room and the way he slurs when speaking, of course, catches the Capitalist's attention. "He's lucky that he won't wake up hung over."

"Yes. I suppose I'm lucky that way," the Deviant tells the Artist. "I've heard all about what a beautiful, wonderful genius you are. Is it true?" Again, he taps ash from his cigarette onto the floor. When magic cleans it every night, what difference does it make? Glancing to the Capitalist, the Deviant smirks once more. "Is it progress out there, though, when you all seem to meet the same inevitable, sticky end -- leading you right back here once more? I suppose it is a well-oiled machine, in the end."

"Apparently not right now!" Penny says with a soft laugh at Bravo's eagerness to go exploring. There's that playful glint to her eyes again as the woman speaks of whatever might happen there, but it's gone quick enough as the Capitalist speaks. "I'd still prefer to have a life to remember, even if I only lived a small part of it, I think. Even Madison, for all I hated how she handled things." She stares at the floor a moment, thinking over the idea of it, and then shrugs. "I think the point now is to rest and relax until we're inevitably whisked off to whatever is next in store for us." Naturally, she can't help but glance over at the television, staring at it a moment. "It at least feels like progress when you're living it," she notes absently to the Deviant's question for the Capitalist. "You speak like you're not one of us, Dirk. Well, maybe you're not, yet, I suppose."

"The lack of consequence does seem to accelerate, ah, self-injurious behavior," Arthur muses to Cillian quite thoughtfully, though he doesn't look too concerned-- yet. "He seems to have replaced the laudanum with--" himself, alcohol, "--other things."

And then he turns to the Deviant, and actually ponders this for a long moment. What can one say to something like that? "Everything that Martin loves, he loves intensely," he temporises. "I can't argue that I'm beautiful or that I'm an artist, but I can't say that I'm to everyone's taste. Right now, I'm to his. Who knows what other loves other lives will bring? Perhaps next time around, I'll be hearing about all of the wicked things you two've gotten up to." He doesn't sound jealous at that prospect, however, in the slightest.

When it's mentioned that her thoughts on matters caused interest, Bravo glances at Capitalist, her head tilting curiously for a moment before a quick smile appears. Then she glances at Penny, lifting her hands a bit as she shrugs, "Apparently not. Watch, I'll run every time it's mentioned....except for the time that it's actually time to go on the full tour. Then I'll just sit here like a lump, and someone will have to pry me up to go." There is a moment of miming trying to pry something up before she coughs, hands grasping the book once more.

"Right. Uh...progress." She nods, trying to school her features into something a little more introspect, a little more serious. "I suppose that one could argue that there has been some sort of progress? Perhaps not in a readily tangible way, but there seems to be depth to things, layers that deepen their memories and experiences, and this in turn to their personalities? I'm just guessing at this, but a more developed state is still progress."

"Whether you survive or die in these scenarios, things mattered. And sometimes, you get your happy ending." There's this look that the Capitalist gives the Penitent when he says this, "You feel it to your core. I believe that's worth the effort. Other times," He shrugs his shoulders. "You are doing all that you can, at first, to live your life, and then to simply survive."

It's when the Penitent addresses the Deviant that his attention looks between the pair, before once again refocusing on Penny. There was this look of admiration in his eyes. But it's the Bravo whom he addresses next, "In a sense, that is progress, but I've run and built companies in my past lives, took over family businesses when needed. That is how I'd like to live my life. That's what I have a drive for." There's a look given the parlor. No, there was none of that happening here. "The world is on a much larger scale in these lives." He then ends with, "You'll see."

"I am a newborn babe," Deviant tells Penny, his smirk widening. He gets up to his feet again, starting towards the door. "Is that so?" This is to Artist, as he passes him. "Well, then, that will certainly be interesting." And as he moves by Bravo, he claps her on the shoulder. "You'll see, Viktoria. You'll see." Whether he's echoing the Capitalist or referring to something obscure, it's hard to tell, but he moves into the hallway and is gone again.

The Artist watches the Deviant go, too. Sweeping the others a bow, he just moves to depart.

"A newborn babe." Penny echoes, shaking her head and watching the Deviant, and shortly after, the Artist departing. The later at least gets a bright smile and a finger wriggle of a wave there for him as she feels the Capitalist's gaze upon her when he speaks of happy endings. "Funny though, isn't it? Does life really have a happy ending? It just goes on, until it stops I suppose. We only view it as an ending because ... well, because we ended up back here, I suppose. But I agree. Things happened, and they matter."

There's a notable nod to Bravo's words too. "I think there's definite progress of some sort. To what, I don't know, but my first time here, well. I wasn't good for much, truth be told. It's the extra memories that have helped me ... find myself, I guess."

There's a brief stare at Deviant's departing back, brows furrowing in thought before she shakes her head, dismissing whatever thoughts they were. "I'll see, eventually." Bravo agrees, offering the departing Artist a smile as well, although a little belatedly, before her full attention turns back to Penny and Capitalist.

"I get it....progress." She does, although it's clear that she doesn't have much to add to the entire concept, either. Not more than she's already added. "I get what he means though, about being a newborn babe. I mean, I've said as much in a more lengthy manner. I just...I'm not sure he'll g..." She pauses, trailing off, then shakes her head. "Whatever. So, when we go on this full tour, I'm going to actually wear shoes this time, I think."

"For me, if I felt like my life was fulfilled in the end?" The Capitalist quickly says, eyes on Penitent again, "Like it was in Prosperity, then despite only have one year of memories following the final Reaping, it was a happy ending." Turning away now, his attention drawn to the hallway in which Art had escaped into, "When I woke up here, I was still feeling it. I was happy to be alive."

"For now, I have things that I need to do." His attention is drawn back to the two women, "There's so little to do here that I can't believe that I'm going to try to will a gym to within one of those two mystery doors. Maata told me that due to how things work here that we probably didn't need the exercise, but there's this restlessness sometimes--" He considers, "Then again, a jog in some random park sounds like a great idea too."

"You're not wrong. It was ... fulfilling." Penny replies with a slow nod, looking wistful a moment there. It's a moment where her expression wouldn't be out of place at all on Anette, before the Last Reaping, when she might have wished for younger, happier days. "I always wake up completely blank," she follows up quietly with. "It took me a long shower and some wondering to remember, but eventually the memories come." She grins up at him though, glancing and nodding. "Or proper swim! I made a swimming pool that one time. I remember Madison was a decent swimmer and enjoyed it. Pity she never got to indulge when on the Island. Activity, I guess, is something to do." There's a brief glance at Bravo, too, and she nods. "I'm not sure about him in general, to be honest. Strange fellow." But on shoes, she does smile. "Right! I didn't want to say anything, but the metal floor on that station -- so cold!" She, too, doesn't seem to wear shoes when in this place.

The Bravo glances back and forth between Penny and Capitalist, one corner of her mouth kicking upwards a bit before she nods, "Yes." Whatever yes is for. Then she starts to get to her feet once more, a hand shaking out her dress, "I think that I should be moving on as well, give you two a little moment of peace without all my questions." She smiles a little more at that, but it is brief before she continues "I'll practice the play, and maybe be ready to show you after we wake up again..." This is spoken to Penny, then she glances at Capitalist, "And I'm excited about another visit to the Noc. The last one was so tantalizing."