Big City Living (Midpoint Mingle)

[midpointmods]

The town of Midpoint: called thus because it is at the exact center of the game arena, a busy little Western town full of strange people, many of whom don’t look remotely human, because this is where all the players gather and live. Midpoint Saloon: called thus because it is the only bar in Midpoint. It’s also the biggest building in town, four stories high, dotted with windows, painted a jaunty yellow and decorated with red and green flowers in all the window boxes.

This is where your veteran teammate points you. Or just stomps off to and hopes you follow.

Downstairs is a bar and tavern, Old West style, right down to the upright piano in one corner and a raucous crowd of locals - largely locals, but with a healthy smattering of unusual or downright alien faces that clearly indicate the presence of other Players - eating, drinking, gambling, and getting into trouble. There’s a broad, bearded man behind the bar, waving cheerfully at you as you enter.

The rest of the night and the next day is yours to do with what you see fit. Explore the town, take a long nap in your new room, try to get to know people... everyone is here for the next twenty-four hours before travel to the mission site, so it’s a good chance to scope out the competition, at the very least.

Comments

[worthallthis]

While Soldat looks blank at the reference, Soap breaks into an unexpected grin that's only a little bit wry. "After Erysichthon. You got some high society taste, don't you, ma'am."

[unofficial_ambassador]

Inara raises her eyebrows, unable to hide a genuine smile despite her continued wariness. "It seems that both of us have read a book or two. He really will eat anything, watch your hands near his face." So far the gelding has never bitten hard enough to hurt, but it can still be disconcerting.

[worthallthis]

"I'm sure I've dealt with worse, ma'am," Soap says, stroking Aethon's nose.

"If you want to go with Soap," Soldat puts in, confusion set aside as not particularly important-- even before everything, mythology had not been a thing they knew a ton about, they're pretty sure-- "you can come inside when you're done. Talk to the man at the bar, North, and he'll get you a room. I'll come get you when it's time to go, morning after tomorrow."

And, of course, they'll be around. Attempting to be social. They'll see how long it lasts...

[unofficial_ambassador]

"All right. Do we need to meet tomorrow, or do they give us time to plan things once we're out there?" There are still a lot of questions on her mind about what's going to happen over the next few days.

[worthallthis]

"There's a whole day's worth of travel until we reach Tycoon Depot," Soldat says with a shrug, giving their mare a pat on the shoulder as Soap leads both animals off. "We can talk then. But you can find me at dinner downstairs tomorrow if you need me or have any questions. Or ask North. He can point you in the right direction to find me, usually." They're half-sure North has some kind of tracker on them all. Or else he really is omniscient when it comes to his charges, like the old songs say.

[unofficial_ambassador]

Inara nods. "I’ll keep that in mind. I want to know as much about the game as I can before I'm in this on my own, and I assume this is the only round where you'll be my handler."

She had made the decision months ago to try and be self-sufficient instead of waiting for someone stronger to come and rescue her, and that's a promise to herself that she intends to keep. If the teams get shuffled every time she needs to know how to survive on her own.

[worthallthis]

Oh, that was not the right word to use, Inara. Soldat has a very specific association with that word and it is not the same as hers. They actually give a full-body twitch, jerking away from her with an expression of alarm and dismay, both hands up as if showing they're empty, for once not remotely subtle. "Jesus. No. No no no. I am not. Would not. Never. I am not your handler. I'm your teammate. Not. No handlers."

[unofficial_ambassador]

The sudden movement startles Inara into taking a step back as well. This is the most emotion she's seen from him so far, and it had seemingly come out of nowhere.

"Of course, you're right, " she says, her voice as carefully neutral as if she's talking to a spooked horse. She glances around for help but Soap is already inside. "My teammate. Forgive me."

[worthallthis]

It looks for a moment like Soldat might just bolt back inside-- they're sorely tempted to-- but they've already fucked up this new-person-guide thing enough. So instead, they just disengage for a minute, shutting their eyes, breathing carefully, imagining their way through a few steps of folding piece of paper a crane.

When they're calm enough, they say, "Sorry. That. There were some not-great people who used to call themselves my handlers. Makes me think of shitty things, now. Things that I'm never gonna do to anybody."

[unofficial_ambassador]

"You didn't do anything wrong, " Inara says, still careful but a little more secure. He doesn't seem like he's about to lose control in a way that might harm himself or anyone else. The comparison to River seems more apt than she'd realized. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I wasn't trying to hurt you."

[worthallthis]

They shake their head firmly, feeling particularly stupid in that moment. Of course she wasn't. She didn't, even, just-- scared them for a second. "You didn't know. It's fine. Nothing to apologize for."

[unofficial_ambassador]

She can't even say 'I know you won't hurt me' because she mostly knows how this game works now and once they're on opposing teams she's positive that he will. It's a strange feeling, to trust someone and know that at the same time.

"I am sorry, " she says anyway, thinking about River again, cowering and shaking under Inara’s bed because a logo on a soup can had thrown her into a flashback. "But you must be tired, I won't keep you any longer."

[worthallthis]

Someday she's going to have to tell them about River. (Or not. Hearing about another kid who got tortured to make them a government asset might just be depressing.)

"It's fine," they say again, feeling every bit as tired as she probably thinks they do. People didn't used to be this exhausting, did they? (We're out of practice, maybe? Can you practice this sort of thing? Why not?) A point, they suppose. For now, they're going to take the graceful exit. "Go watch Soap. He'll show you how to look after Aethon. Get a room from North. We'll talk again later, promise."