coquaigne | [IC] [voice post]

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[IC] [voice post]

[begin voice post]

[Murmured, nearly inaudible.] H--Horatio? The pain, it's--

[A long pause, marked with fumbling noises, and then a sharp intake of breath.] Lord, that's a grand spread--hm? [A beeping noise.] "Recording"? Recording what? [The sound of a few keys being hit, essentially at random.] What is this thing anyw--

[end voice post]

((ooc: Wakes up at a buffet with a laptop. SO MUCH FOOD. SO CONFUSING. Will get better at writing Archie when it's not midnight-thirty.))

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...The captain.

[Archie smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Time has continued on without him, his dearest friend is a captain, and for him, it's been only moments since he died. This is a strange and melancholy feeling.]

When was he--? [A vague hand movement over his plate; he suddenly finds himself less interested in sampling all of God's wares.]

[Bush proceeds to provide Archie a pained look, and shuffles over to get the both of them seated comfortably. For his part, he is hardly famished, having had broken his fast at dawn with the others aboard the Hotspur, and can wait before grabbing food off God's tables.]

Not very long after- That is to say, in the year two. [Cough cough cough. Smooth, Mr Bush.] He was demoted when we made peace with France, though as that lasted for about as long as you'd imagine, he was made captain again soon after.

[Practice and force of will keeps Bush's voice steady through all of this. Archie deserves to know.] He is married, with a child on the way, he tells me.

[Archie nods, tries his hand at smiling again, and possibly it works better this time.] I...am glad to hear it. I hope he is happy?

[Aaaaaand. Well, this is awkward as hell, Archie, excellent work. And when he realizes this, he tries to bring the conversation around a bit.] And--have you also fared well, Mr Bush?

As happy as he ever is. You know better than I. [Though Bush's smile, weak, but present, betrays him.]

[At the subject of himself, he gives a curt nod.] I am his first lieutenant aboard the Hotspur... His only lieutenant. It is a sloop.

[And that gets a proper smile from Archie, because, uh. Lol, Horatio. Lol.] Good.

That is cause for congratulations if I ever heard one. A toast to your success, sir. [And he lifts up his mug of ale. Yaaaaaaaaaaaay, Bush.]

[Glasses clink, and Bush drinks down some ale.] I thank you, sir. And am sorry to be the bringer of... [Well, it isn't exactly bad news.] Such poor favors. [Right.]

[Finally, something does occur to him. Querulously, he looks to Archie's abdomen.] But, are you not in pain?

[It was all just a bit sudden, this "you woke up dead! your bff has a new bff and a wife and a child!" business. As it sinks in, it's not nearly so hard to sound pleasant.] You need not be sorry. I am glad to hear that you and Horatio have had good fortune. [Aside from that whole still-a-lieutenant thing, of course, Bush, but it'd be rude to point that out to you.]

[He follows Bush's gaze down to the place where his wound once was, then shakes his head.] Entirely healed, actually. I should not have come to meet you if it was not.

He has. And he owes it all to you. [That was comforting, right? This game is hard :|]

[Here, he lets through a smile, attempting to raise the mood, a feat he has about as much experience with as swimming.] That is entirely the best news I've heard all day, Mr Kennedy. [However forced and awkward the delivery, he means it completely. Archie should not be pained, after his death.]

[It was about as comforting as "you didn't die in vain" gets, Bush, and Archie looks reasonably satisfied even if he's still a bit saaaaad. Good work.]

Thank you. It was the best I could hope to wake up to as well; getting shot is not terribly comfortable. [Weak joke is pretty weak, but he's trying. Turns out Heaven is kind of awkward.]

[Heaven is only awkward if you're alive, is what Bush is pretty sure of. There is no training for meeting up with dead comrades again.]

I should imagine it is rather worse than being stabbed, yes. [Twice. Oooh.] But enough of this dark talk, you have eaten? [He looks to the blinking computer machine wherever Archie left it.] And figured out those contraptions far better than me; I had to beat it into submission.

[Brute force: a staple of His Majesty's Royal Navy.]

[Yes, it really is the living-presence aspect that's making it weird. It'd just be a bit solemn and isolated otherwise. But yes, do let's move on from morbid thoughts; we do not even have the Morbid Thoughts Guy here to justify them.]

Two servings so far, though I think I could manage two more if I tried; the food is excellent. [He glances over at it, and then at the laptop, which has gone into screensaver mode.] And I can't have figured it out entirely, look--it's gone black.

...Did you really beat yours?

[And if you're Thinking On Death, you may as well have the resident expert about, should you not?]

After ship's rations since I went to sea, I doubt I'd be able to tell if it were prison food. [Bush does that almost-smile-twinkly-eye-thing that Real Men do when they're in the Navy, and wanders over to the buffet after releasing himself of his coat, sword and pistol on a chair. There shouldn't be any Frenchmen in Heaven, right?]

[He looks back, shrugging, while piling some roast pork onto his plate.] Of course I did, it was making the most horrible screeching noise.

[Archie didn't arrive with a coat and thinks a bit ruefully of it as he watches Bush remove his. He's lucky he showed up in the rest of his clothing, though, given that he was only wearing bandages last time he knew anything. Perhaps Heaven has a tailor.]

Oh, it's far better. Try the goose; you'd think it was Christmas, to taste it. [For his own part, he gets himself a helping of beef and boiled carrots.]

[As he regains his seat, he gives the thing a sidelong glance.] It appears to be unarmed; bludgeoning it seems a bit excessive.

[Bush doesn't answer, biting into the food, his answer is obvious in how quickly be begins to eat. After finishing off a drumstick, he nods his head, giving a grunt of concession.] Haven't eaten like this since I made Lieutenant.

[After recovering from the bout of gorging himself, Bush throws a dismissive look towards Archie's computer.] At the time, it seemed the perfectly right course of action, Mr Kennedy.

[Cough cough cough cough serious face is serious.]

[Om nom nom, food. Archie takes the opportunity to tear into his own helping.]

[He glances over at the computer as well, and makes no effort to hide a smile.] Perfectly natural, seeing how threatening an apparatus it is.

[Archie may or may not start slightly when he hits the "N" key on it and its screen suddenly lights up once more, though.]

[Bush just frowns at Archie, giving his best eyeroll without actually rolling his eyes (because that would be undignified). It's all in the slant of the eyebrows.]

[Though he starts a bit, once Archie makes the screen suddenly and predictably change!] What did you do? [Yes, he is glaring at the computer, what of it?]

I only touched it! I don't know what it did.

[He peers at it some more, frowning.] What is a 'google,' do you think?

[Bush narrows his eyes, trying to get on eye-level with the machine.] It doesn't seem you've managed to break it, if the... color is any indication.

Google... Perhaps it is the French?

No, I suppose I have not. What is it supposed to do now, though? [They are nearly head to head at this point, both staring at the thing.]

[Archie racks through his memories and comes up wanting.] If it is, I do not recognize it.

Don't ask me. I know how to make it shut up, and that's that.

[Bush looks over at Archie for a moment, nodding. He didn't know Archie knew French, but it's not that surprising. Plenty of officers know.] Mayhaps you should try... touching it again?

[Archie gives him one of those curt sorts of "aye aye, sir" nods and hits another key. And it shows up in the search bar. Cue noise of surprise followed by an expression of understanding. He starts talking under his breath as he carefully hits each letter in turn with one index finger.]

...R. C. H. I. E--damn.

[He frowns at the keyboard, and then the screen, on which reads "archiw."] I wonder how you go about correcting mistakes.

[Bush nods, the face of seriousness. Given a task, completing it is obviously the most important thing.]

Doubtless I'd wager on trying some of the unknown symbols, Mr Kennedy. [He leans back, finally, in his chair, surveying the scene from afar.]

[He tries to use the € and ends up with "archiw4."] No good. Perhaps...curdle?

[Turns out that hitting the "ctrl" key doesn't do anything. Neither does "alt," but when he hits the one shaped like a waving flag, the start menu comes up. Archie knocks his head against Bush's, come in close once more, when it happens. It's going to take a bit before the damned thing stops startling him.] Oh! I apologize.

[Bush quite happily leans back again, sour-faced, to rub at the spot on his forehead where he's been assaulted. He shakes his head, slow and dismissive, to any apology, but stands after a moment, noting:]

It seems the only option left is to press every spot on that thing and see what it does. I'll leave you to that. [Brb, getting more food.]

[Archie is willing to do as told, but none of them close the start menu. By the time Bush returns, he has taken to hitting the keys at random, as they don't seem to be doing anything of use.]

And I believe it is your turn to fiddle with it, for I would like to try the gooseberry pudding. [Playing with computers is hungry work. He stands up.] Please don't challenge it to a duel while I'm away.

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