[ He gives a little shrug in response to the idea of her passing out. It will take more than this bottle to do the same to him. If she can get some sleep out of it, he's more than fine with her company dropping off. So to speak. ]
I think that the empathy bond means that even people who aren't being directly affected are still getting secondary drunkenness off everyone else's misery.
[ There really should be safeguards against that, he thinks — surely the people who designed the empathy bond wouldn't be that short-sighted.
He sips. ]
I'm trying to keep it to myself, but it's harder to suppress the bond the more tired you are. Apparently.
[ It's a fine line sometimes for her between drowsiness and being completely shitfaced, and it's even harder for her to tell the difference when she already feels like she's running on fumes. ]
Oh good. So it's basically like one long continuous party.
[ Not that she even fully understands the empathy bond herself, and it hasn't actually stopped her from touching the people she wants to touch; she's just... made every attempt to try and shove her own feelings down where she can. ]
Good thing neither of us have any deep emotions that might get us in trouble here, huh? [ It's a poor attempt at a joke, but now she's starting to realize that the two of them, alone in a room together, might set her up for something she isn't prepared to visit head-on. ]
The worst pity party imaginable, [ Cash agrees. He goes ahead and knocks the rest of his glass back, pouring himself a new one as he decides not to be shy. It's going to take a few more glasses for it to start really affecting him, anyway.
Might as well get the pleasant burn down his throat. As he glances up from his glass, the corners of his lips twitch. It's more self-deprecation than anything else. As if he'd upset the social balance on purpose. ]
Are you scared of my deep love of booze? [ he decides to joke back, a touch softer than his earlier words. ] I know it's intense, but it's nothing to be scared of. I just like a good time.
Spoken like someone who's been to a handful of those before. [ She counts herself in that description, though, even if most of the pity parties she's attended in her lifetime have only had a guest list of one.
But as she's finding, something like this? It's slightly better than being alone. She follows suit in polishing off the rest of her drink, holding out her glass so he can refill it once he's done with his own. ]
Terrified. [ She attempts to flash a smile, but it ends up more crooked, more slanted, and she clears her throat before taking another sip of booze. ]
We don't have to invite pity. We can just tell it to beat it at the door.
[ Easier said than done, but still, Cash imagines that they can find all kinds of things to talk about that don't fringe on pity. They're already dragged down enough as it is. He has another gulp from his glass, trying to imagine what this particular booze was made out of. Something unpleasant, he has to imagine. ]
I do miss actual bars, [ he admits. ] Not that the bar we have is bad, but the idea of being able to order whatever you want sounds pretty great.
[ She chuckles dryly, fingers absently tapping against the edge of her glass, a light tinkling sound, and stares toward the contents like she's contemplating them even though she's looking at a completely distant point. ]
Right? [ The groan from her is immediately sympathizing and she leans into him, nudging her shoulder against his before swaying back again. ] Remember bar apps? Onion rings and fries and loaded nachos with all the fixings?
And it has to real bad to miss bar food, but yeah, I do.
[ Just sitting there and smelling it in the air, the salt and the fat it fried in, while it passes by on somebody's tray. Cash smiles, sipping from his glass before he goes on. ]
Maybe I just miss fried food. It's hard to justify the resources for it here, considering all the steps. But that was my favorite part of going to the State Fair, all the terrible and delicious food choices.
Hey, I'm not saying any of it is actually any good. Sometimes a girl just wants fatty fatty goodness. Or delicious carbs.
[ She's never had the best habits in terms of food choices, which seems almost antithetical given the way she can fit herself into a pair of skinny jeans, but killing demons apparently helps you burn calories. Who knew? ]
Yeah, I don't really like to think about what they had to melt down to get what comes out of the food dispensers.
[ She scrunches up her nose, takes another contemplative sip of her liquor. Mostly just plants, if she had to guess, which would make her vegan sister happy if Waves was here, but not so much Wynonna, who prefers her burgers fat and juicy. ]
I've been advised not to look in the machines — or I might not want to eat from them — and I'm going to take that advice.
[ He has a strong stomach, but still. If they break down, they're someone else's problem. Cash drains the last of his glass in one go. At least alcohol is... uncomplicated. It's not good for you, and that's an agreed-on thing. No one drinks alcohol for healthful properties. ]
Shudder to think what this place would turn into if we didn't have buckets of booze from the last planet. A lot of frustrated folks ready to boil over, I'm guessing.
Oh, ew. [ Chalk that up on the list of ship secrets she's already assembling, things she didn't need to know and definitely won't go looking into any time soon. Then again, she's not mechanically inclined enough to even want to dig around in the inner workings of the dispensers, and if something goes haywire, at least there's someone on this ship who could attempt to fix it.
She'll be over here, staying far away from it, possibly even drinking booze. Something uncomplicated that she doesn't usually have to get from a machine. ]
Tell me about it. Don't jinx us, though. [ She peers up to him, wry smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. ] And maybe pour me some more while you're at it. I'm nowhere near buzzed enough to start thinking in hypotheticals.
You want to think about hypotheticals when you're buzzed?
[ Cash smiles and raises the bottle, all too happy to pour more into her glass. And his own. He pours himself a double of hers, in fact, just to make sure that she's not going to fully leave him behind. He won't get drunk from this much alcohol, but pleasantly stupefied? Probably. ]
I'm impressed. All I want to think about is really nice food or company.
Okay, touche. Maybe I don't want to think about anything when I'm buzzed. Just...
[ She holds her glass out enough that there's a clink when he tips the bottle against it, filling her up again, and she won't necessarily point out the fact that he's given himself a more generous pour than she is because she doesn't know the reason for it. Maybe he wants to get to a certain point faster. ]
Yeah, this'll work. [ It helps, ultimately, not to be alone. When she's by herself, her mind wanders too much, more than she'd prefer, and since she doesn't know what she'll see when she closes her eyes, sleep is out of the question too. ] 'Cept the food talk really is gonna make me hungry.
[ He chuckles, smile shifting apologetically. This is normally where he'd volunteer the name of a local spot with good food and maybe he and his companion would go there for a bit. On a more normal day, several years prior. But now he's on a spaceship, and all he can offer is extra food from the machines. Pass. ]
I don't get drunk that often. My magic— [ Cash sighs. ] It works in the background, keeps me in optimum health. Or it tries. So when I drink a lot of alcohol, it thinks I'm being poisoned and starts purging the poison. I have to drink at least a handle to feel anything major.
[ Her smile is almost more commiserating, in a sense; it's not like she really has anything to recommend at home save for Shorty's, and they're not exactly known for their bar apps either. Maybe it's more the atmosphere she misses, maneuvering around a crowded bar, trying to find an empty table, hustling people at pool. ]
Wow. That sucks. [ She chuckles, not envious in the slightest, but then also wonders what it's like to have essentially a blood purifier in your system. ]
So does that mean you can't ever get sick? No colds? No flu, nothing?
I haven't had an illness since before my magic manifested, when I was... eleven, twelve, something like that. [ He used to remember the number. Now, it's a bad memory. Ill tidings; the start of his life going downhill. ] No illnesses, m' tired less often, cuts and bruises and injuries heal up immediately. It's not all bad.
That's got to come in handy, though. [ She considers his words for a second, glancing out ahead of them to a distant point, her gaze unfixed as she weighs over whether to say this next part. Then again, he's never shown anything but willingness to be honest with her on his end, so she almost feels like this is something she owes him — more truth, ultimately, about herself. ]
It's... harder, for me, to get hurt. Has been ever since I became the Earp heir. It's like this curse, whatever it is, makes me faster, stronger. Even when I take a hit, it's easier for me to heal from it quickly. To bounce back.
[ That isn't to say she can't get sick or injured, period, but it makes her tougher than most. ] Pretty sure I haven't had a scar since I fell climbing a rusty tractor back on the homestead and busted up my knee. It's still there, actually.
[ He chuckles quietly. There's a softness in his gaze from the way she admits this truth about herself. Imparted truths, from tired people. Cash doesn't often give people the particulars about his magic, out of a sense of paranoia that they'll take advantage of it. Plenty of people have, so maybe it's not even paranoia.
But he trusts Wynonna. ]
I guess if you're going to go up against demons, you need all the help you can get, right?
[ Seems cruel to give someone that kind of mission and no other support. ]
Something like that. I guess whatever demon laid the curse down hundreds of years ago thought they'd give us a magical booster shot to try and make the whole thing a little more even.
[ There's a scoff from her, but it doesn't really have any bite to it — partly because she's so tired, beyond the point of exhaustion that she's kind of running on fumes, but the other part is that she's just accepted what she has, who she is now.
She glances down at the glass in her hand, idly using her hand to swirl its contents around, and then takes another sip from it. ]
Sometimes I think about what's happening back home. You know, without me. Do they even know I'm gone? Stranded in space with a shitty excuse for whiskey?
[ Cash makes a vague noise in the back of his throat, thoughtful. ]
I've heard... varying things, from folks who've had others show up here. But I don't think anyone knew the other was gone.
[ He doesn't like the opposite thought, either. The thought of his team back home, waiting for him. So he's glad that they probably aren't. Cash makes them wait enough, they don't need to wait for his cosmic vacation, too. ]
It might be like void traveling, back home. Void travelers can spend as much time as they want in another universe, with only a few limits, but they return back to our Earth in the same moment they left. [ Cash shrugs. ] Stands to reason, anyway.
I can't decide if that makes me feel better or worse.
[ Now she's being honest about it, even for her, and the thing is, she can't even tell if it's the whiskey making her loose-lipped or just the fact that she feels like she can say this kind of shit in his company, that she doesn't have to worry about him hearing her and judging her for it. ]
Y'know? Like... at least maybe, time goes differently here and back home they'll never even know I left. But then at the same time, what does that mean when I go back? Am I going to remember everything that happened, or is it just going to be like... poof, gone. [ There are some parts of this ship she wouldn't want to take back with her, but then again, maybe she doesn't want to forget everything either — and that's a separate kind of miserable to think about, as she stares down at the glass in her hand again. ]
[ Downing the rest of his drink gives him a small amount of time to consider his answer. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't worried about not remembering anyone from this, when all's said and done. The longer he spends here, the more he grows attached to people. To forget his friends... ]
Dunno, [ Cash has to admit. Quiet. ] But I hope it's not that last one. Be sad to forget spending so much time here.
[ He's learned a few lessons along the way, too, even if they weren't lessons he particularly wanted. ]
[ There might have been a time where she would have been quick to feign nonchalance, pretend that she would be just fine to go back to her — well, admittedly not-great life sometimes and forget that any of this ever happened to her. At least, that's what the old Wynonna would have done, the one that didn't know any of these people and therefore wouldn't have any reasons to give a shit about them.
That's not where she is now, not anymore. ]
Had some good times already, huh?
[ That prompts a smile from her, more of a half-one, the corner of her mouth edging up crookedly before she looks over in his direction. ]
[ Quirking a smile at her, Cash reaches out to casually tuck a lock of Wynonna's hair behind her closest ear. ]
Why can't it be both?
[ It's the former, not the latter, that he'd be sad to forget, but injecting some sort of humor into the moment just seems like a good idea. No need to let the mood tank entirely. He keeps the same flippant, easy tone as he goes on, even though the fondness of his gaze doesn't match it as he looks at her. ]
Be a shame to forget, uh, having my leg partially eaten by slime. Or swimming on that incredible beach. Or... getting clean in a certain hot spring with a beautiful lady.
[ She feels like she's already floating underwater a little because of the exhaustion and now the booze on top of it, but she thinks she stills when he reaches for her, the sensation of his fingers gently guiding that hair back feeling better than it should have any right to. ]
Oh, that's true. Duh.
[ She tries to scoff, but it doesn't really have any real bite to it, not when he's looking at her like that, not when she can't tear her eyes away from him now either. ]
I can't decide if it's better or worse that you just listed me after the flesh-eating slime. [ She's definitely messing with him, the crookedness of her grin prompting both dimples to emerge, but she hasn't glanced away. ]
[ A chuckle, thick with the emotion in his gaze, spills out of him. Cash makes no move to stop his hand, continuing the gesture until he's stroking his fingers through the back of Wynonna's hair. ]
What can I say, getting part of your leg eaten is pretty memorable.
[ The gentle ribbing from her sets a part of him at peace that he doesn't really want to examine. He just goes with the flow, as he always does, hand trailing down her back. ]
I'm just thankful that things usually aren't that exciting around here.
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I think that the empathy bond means that even people who aren't being directly affected are still getting secondary drunkenness off everyone else's misery.
[ There really should be safeguards against that, he thinks — surely the people who designed the empathy bond wouldn't be that short-sighted.
He sips. ]
I'm trying to keep it to myself, but it's harder to suppress the bond the more tired you are. Apparently.
no subject
Oh good. So it's basically like one long continuous party.
[ Not that she even fully understands the empathy bond herself, and it hasn't actually stopped her from touching the people she wants to touch; she's just... made every attempt to try and shove her own feelings down where she can. ]
Good thing neither of us have any deep emotions that might get us in trouble here, huh? [ It's a poor attempt at a joke, but now she's starting to realize that the two of them, alone in a room together, might set her up for something she isn't prepared to visit head-on. ]
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Might as well get the pleasant burn down his throat. As he glances up from his glass, the corners of his lips twitch. It's more self-deprecation than anything else. As if he'd upset the social balance on purpose. ]
Are you scared of my deep love of booze? [ he decides to joke back, a touch softer than his earlier words. ] I know it's intense, but it's nothing to be scared of. I just like a good time.
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But as she's finding, something like this? It's slightly better than being alone. She follows suit in polishing off the rest of her drink, holding out her glass so he can refill it once he's done with his own. ]
Terrified. [ She attempts to flash a smile, but it ends up more crooked, more slanted, and she clears her throat before taking another sip of booze. ]
But hey, one more thing we have in common.
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[ Easier said than done, but still, Cash imagines that they can find all kinds of things to talk about that don't fringe on pity. They're already dragged down enough as it is. He has another gulp from his glass, trying to imagine what this particular booze was made out of. Something unpleasant, he has to imagine. ]
I do miss actual bars, [ he admits. ] Not that the bar we have is bad, but the idea of being able to order whatever you want sounds pretty great.
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[ She chuckles dryly, fingers absently tapping against the edge of her glass, a light tinkling sound, and stares toward the contents like she's contemplating them even though she's looking at a completely distant point. ]
Right? [ The groan from her is immediately sympathizing and she leans into him, nudging her shoulder against his before swaying back again. ] Remember bar apps? Onion rings and fries and loaded nachos with all the fixings?
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And it has to real bad to miss bar food, but yeah, I do.
[ Just sitting there and smelling it in the air, the salt and the fat it fried in, while it passes by on somebody's tray. Cash smiles, sipping from his glass before he goes on. ]
Maybe I just miss fried food. It's hard to justify the resources for it here, considering all the steps. But that was my favorite part of going to the State Fair, all the terrible and delicious food choices.
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[ She's never had the best habits in terms of food choices, which seems almost antithetical given the way she can fit herself into a pair of skinny jeans, but killing demons apparently helps you burn calories. Who knew? ]
Yeah, I don't really like to think about what they had to melt down to get what comes out of the food dispensers.
[ She scrunches up her nose, takes another contemplative sip of her liquor. Mostly just plants, if she had to guess, which would make her vegan sister happy if Waves was here, but not so much Wynonna, who prefers her burgers fat and juicy. ]
This stuff's not so bad, though.
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[ He has a strong stomach, but still. If they break down, they're someone else's problem. Cash drains the last of his glass in one go. At least alcohol is... uncomplicated. It's not good for you, and that's an agreed-on thing. No one drinks alcohol for healthful properties. ]
Shudder to think what this place would turn into if we didn't have buckets of booze from the last planet. A lot of frustrated folks ready to boil over, I'm guessing.
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She'll be over here, staying far away from it, possibly even drinking booze. Something uncomplicated that she doesn't usually have to get from a machine. ]
Tell me about it. Don't jinx us, though. [ She peers up to him, wry smile tugging up one corner of her mouth. ] And maybe pour me some more while you're at it. I'm nowhere near buzzed enough to start thinking in hypotheticals.
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[ Cash smiles and raises the bottle, all too happy to pour more into her glass. And his own. He pours himself a double of hers, in fact, just to make sure that she's not going to fully leave him behind. He won't get drunk from this much alcohol, but pleasantly stupefied? Probably. ]
I'm impressed. All I want to think about is really nice food or company.
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[ She holds her glass out enough that there's a clink when he tips the bottle against it, filling her up again, and she won't necessarily point out the fact that he's given himself a more generous pour than she is because she doesn't know the reason for it. Maybe he wants to get to a certain point faster. ]
Yeah, this'll work. [ It helps, ultimately, not to be alone. When she's by herself, her mind wanders too much, more than she'd prefer, and since she doesn't know what she'll see when she closes her eyes, sleep is out of the question too. ] 'Cept the food talk really is gonna make me hungry.
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[ He chuckles, smile shifting apologetically. This is normally where he'd volunteer the name of a local spot with good food and maybe he and his companion would go there for a bit. On a more normal day, several years prior. But now he's on a spaceship, and all he can offer is extra food from the machines. Pass. ]
I don't get drunk that often. My magic— [ Cash sighs. ] It works in the background, keeps me in optimum health. Or it tries. So when I drink a lot of alcohol, it thinks I'm being poisoned and starts purging the poison. I have to drink at least a handle to feel anything major.
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Wow. That sucks. [ She chuckles, not envious in the slightest, but then also wonders what it's like to have essentially a blood purifier in your system. ]
So does that mean you can't ever get sick? No colds? No flu, nothing?
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I haven't had an illness since before my magic manifested, when I was... eleven, twelve, something like that. [ He used to remember the number. Now, it's a bad memory. Ill tidings; the start of his life going downhill. ] No illnesses, m' tired less often, cuts and bruises and injuries heal up immediately. It's not all bad.
[ But it has painted a target on his back. ]
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It's... harder, for me, to get hurt. Has been ever since I became the Earp heir. It's like this curse, whatever it is, makes me faster, stronger. Even when I take a hit, it's easier for me to heal from it quickly. To bounce back.
[ That isn't to say she can't get sick or injured, period, but it makes her tougher than most. ] Pretty sure I haven't had a scar since I fell climbing a rusty tractor back on the homestead and busted up my knee. It's still there, actually.
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But he trusts Wynonna. ]
I guess if you're going to go up against demons, you need all the help you can get, right?
[ Seems cruel to give someone that kind of mission and no other support. ]
Sounds like a very good thing.
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[ There's a scoff from her, but it doesn't really have any bite to it — partly because she's so tired, beyond the point of exhaustion that she's kind of running on fumes, but the other part is that she's just accepted what she has, who she is now.
She glances down at the glass in her hand, idly using her hand to swirl its contents around, and then takes another sip from it. ]
Sometimes I think about what's happening back home. You know, without me. Do they even know I'm gone? Stranded in space with a shitty excuse for whiskey?
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I've heard... varying things, from folks who've had others show up here. But I don't think anyone knew the other was gone.
[ He doesn't like the opposite thought, either. The thought of his team back home, waiting for him. So he's glad that they probably aren't. Cash makes them wait enough, they don't need to wait for his cosmic vacation, too. ]
It might be like void traveling, back home. Void travelers can spend as much time as they want in another universe, with only a few limits, but they return back to our Earth in the same moment they left. [ Cash shrugs. ] Stands to reason, anyway.
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[ Now she's being honest about it, even for her, and the thing is, she can't even tell if it's the whiskey making her loose-lipped or just the fact that she feels like she can say this kind of shit in his company, that she doesn't have to worry about him hearing her and judging her for it. ]
Y'know? Like... at least maybe, time goes differently here and back home they'll never even know I left. But then at the same time, what does that mean when I go back? Am I going to remember everything that happened, or is it just going to be like... poof, gone. [ There are some parts of this ship she wouldn't want to take back with her, but then again, maybe she doesn't want to forget everything either — and that's a separate kind of miserable to think about, as she stares down at the glass in her hand again. ]
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Dunno, [ Cash has to admit. Quiet. ] But I hope it's not that last one. Be sad to forget spending so much time here.
[ He's learned a few lessons along the way, too, even if they weren't lessons he particularly wanted. ]
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That's not where she is now, not anymore. ]
Had some good times already, huh?
[ That prompts a smile from her, more of a half-one, the corner of her mouth edging up crookedly before she looks over in his direction. ]
Or is it secretly just all the hot people?
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Why can't it be both?
[ It's the former, not the latter, that he'd be sad to forget, but injecting some sort of humor into the moment just seems like a good idea. No need to let the mood tank entirely. He keeps the same flippant, easy tone as he goes on, even though the fondness of his gaze doesn't match it as he looks at her. ]
Be a shame to forget, uh, having my leg partially eaten by slime. Or swimming on that incredible beach. Or... getting clean in a certain hot spring with a beautiful lady.
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Oh, that's true. Duh.
[ She tries to scoff, but it doesn't really have any real bite to it, not when he's looking at her like that, not when she can't tear her eyes away from him now either. ]
I can't decide if it's better or worse that you just listed me after the flesh-eating slime. [ She's definitely messing with him, the crookedness of her grin prompting both dimples to emerge, but she hasn't glanced away. ]
no subject
What can I say, getting part of your leg eaten is pretty memorable.
[ The gentle ribbing from her sets a part of him at peace that he doesn't really want to examine. He just goes with the flow, as he always does, hand trailing down her back. ]
I'm just thankful that things usually aren't that exciting around here.
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