[MINGLE] Crab Boil

[markwatney]

WHO: Mark Watney
WHERE: 6I Inn front lawn
WHEN: 21 June 2018, afternoon/evening and onward
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
NOTES: A few thinsgs: You may assume your character helped set up; There are tubers in pot with the red salt, negating the warmth effect; The list of of potluck dishes is here; The list of local provisions is here

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The weather is great, the sun is starting to dip toward the horizon, and it's pleasantly mild. Time for an (extremely) old-fashioned low country boil.

We've got two small fire pits built out in front of the inn, each with a massive pot filled with loads of vegetables — corn, carrots, potatoes, onions — and of course the rainbow crabs Finnick and Annie discovered not long after we arrived here. We've even got salt, if you can believe it, although the red salt in this place is pretty spicy and usually makes me sweat, so I've only put it in the one pot, and then set a bowl of it out for garnishing.

Tables and chairs have been brought out from inside, a couple of them set aside specifically for piles of plates, bowls, cups and whatever potluck provisions the rest of the village brings.

Comments

[oorah]

He nods minutely. Like, right now. Please and thank you. The timeline discrepancy gets a slight frown, but nothing to show that it alarms or disturbs him in any way. Rather than worry about his voice, as he probably should, Frank goes back to typing.

it's december 2016 for me

Which explains why he doesn't know what Peter's talking about, at least.

didn't we beat those alien guys?

That's about as much as he knows about the Battle of New York, or as people affectionately dubbed it in his borough: The Incident. But Frank was overseas when it happened, so Peter's bound to know more than him if he's telling everyone here about some purple dude. And man, another thing.

what is it with villains and purple??

[fwips]

So no tea, then.

"Yeah, we did—" Peter begins to answer, and then scuffs out a little laugh as the last message pops up on his screen.

"Is purple a thing?" he asks, glancing up at Castle again. "This is only like, my second major villain, and the last one was..." He trails off, trying to think of how he'd describe Toomes in the villainous hierarchy, and finally just shrugs. "He was my girlfriend's dad. I don't think he wore purple." A beat. "He was human."

[oorah]

Frank gives that a heavy consideration before texting back.

all the worst villains are

Because while the Sound Eaters were shambling and terrible - there's no competition. The worst part of Reims was hands-down Kilgrave, good ol' Purpledick.

if you ever see a man in a purple suit, run in the opposite direction OK?

Though Kevin Thompson is supposed to be dead. That had been the first thing he'd checked upon returning to their, apparently, shared reality. Jessica had only killed him twice in Reims, which made her a saint in his book. In her position? He would've spent every waking moment killing and torturing the guy. Hell, the second he'd caught immunity she'd had to hold him back from doing just that.

what you're talking about sounds more like a job for the big green guy and his friends

While they're on the subject of winning against aliens, though. That was so not his bag.

[fwips]

Even now, months later, it's really, really hard for Peter to not yell out that he's one of those friends, that he's a real, actual Avenger, duly knighted and everything. (Even if he technically never met the Hulk.) He knows he hasn't always been the most fully-aware of superheroes, he knows he's got a lot of growing to do before he gets close to being as good as someone like Cap or Mr. Stark, but he'd been there when Thanos decided to kickstart his plan, and he'd saved everybody's bacon multiple times that day. If it hadn't have been for crazy Footloose guy, he would have helped save the whole universe, like legitimately. Not just a bystander. He had his hands on it, and he was so close...

It's just really hard to swallow it all back, is all. But he does, nodding like the message he's just read is super important and he's just some other teenage nerd who needs people to tell him to watch out for dudes in purple and strangers with candy.

"Oh, yeah," he says, emphatic. "Definitely. I mean, they were on it. The Avengers."

[oorah]

So this kid belongs to a timeline where the Avengers finally lose. It was bound to happen sooner or later, Frank knows. It only cements his belief that he's not going back. That he'll be hopping from place to place until the universe finally lets him die. But skipping over Kilgrave - it's unacceptable. He might be dead where they both came from, but that didn't stop him from terrorizing Reims. Frank takes another step and reaches out, grasping for Peter's shoulder with a desperation in his eyes.

"Listen." His voice is still pulpy and raw, but he pushes past the pain and how awful he must sound. This is too important. "Do you know who Kilgrave is? Did you read about him in the papers? If he's here, if he comes here."

Frank has to take a break, breathing raggedly even while gripping the kid's arm in a vice.

"Don't write him off, everything Jessica said about him is true. I'm immune. You come find me and I'll take care of it." He narrows his eyes, remembering too many conversations exactly like this. But it doesn't matter, does it? Here he goes again. "Or if anything else happens."

He may not be the guy to call about aliens or whatever, but if something nasty comes out of that fountain he'll see to it that he's nastier.

[fwips]

When Peter reacts, it's instinctive and nearly instantaneous, triggered less by the sudden grip to his arm than the zealous gleam in Castle's eyes. Peter's been a New Yorker his whole life, and he knows better than anybody that guys might talk big, but when you come across the ones who look like that, you cross the street and you don't wait to do it.

There's no real thought to it, he simply reacts: A hand braced against Castle's forearm and a backflip to break the grip, landing several feet away in a crouch. Only after it's done does he realize how sloppy he was, the movements executed from muscle memory but sluggish, heavy. He stuck the landing, but he's definitely getting no points for technique.

"Look," he begins, slowly standing, his focus trained on the man in front of him. "I get it, and thanks for the freaky guard dog routine. But don't touch me."

[oorah]

He could have anticipated Peter pulling away or even shoving off him, but what happens is - nearly inexplicable. Tipping his head to the side curiously much like the guard dog he's been accurately identified as, Frank manages to narrow his eyes in some sort of further assessment before righting himself and nodding once.

"Noted," he agrees easily, holding up his hands to show it won't happen again. "Thought we could train warnings, but if you think big purple aliens are the only dangerous people who could come here I'll just move along."

He makes a circular motion with his finger above his head, Move out! Aretha falls in line immediately, Aurora follows after a beat, but gives a lame bark in protest, running out ahead of the bloodhound like it's a race. He figures the Corgis will follow or they won't, because they're still lolling around in the grass lazily. Whatever.