( OPEN ) what you don't know won't hurt you

[whatdidisay]

Who: Ivan Vorpatril & VARIOUS (including YOU)
When: the month of march (and stuff backdated into feb.)
Where: all around the ship
What: catch all log post and OPEN LOG
Warnings: none!


I. BAR

If his cousin is bartending, and even when he’s not, Ivan can be found at the bar most evenings. Some days just for a quick drink in passing, other nights he’s there until late in various states of inebriation, never crossing the lie into intolerably so. Affable and open, it’s no hardship to start a conversation with him; get near him and he might just start up one himself.

II. ON THE JOB

Ivan’s job is the least demanding on the entire ship, and he likes it like that. There’s days he fills with playing the non-terrifying games on his MID, at least between running around and making sure Navigation and Communications aren’t at odds with each other. Which they don’t ever seem to be, which makes his job that much easier.

Most days he can be found at his desk, slowly working on whatever demands have been made of him to stretch out his workday. The mealtimes that he doesn’t run off to the mess hall for, he takes in Navigation — munching on whatever food they managed to cough up while watching the stars pass them. Either way, it’s quite easy to pull his attention from his job should someone require it.

(( if you want something more specific, please feel free to PM me or PP @ robutts ))

Comments

MILES VORKOSIGAN

[whatdidisay]

Miles has been acting weird. Alright, so weirder. Long hours, not sleeping — it’s easily putting Ivan on edge and into the watch your cousin mindset he occasionally gets when he can’t pretend he doesn’t care about what happens to his cousin any longer. He always cares, and it always gets him into trouble. Intervention is required. Intervention and a break from work so Miles doesn’t completely drive everyone around him crazy.

Which means showing up in his office, shoving a pair of brown and silver swimming trunks at him, and dragging him bodily off to the pool. “No arguments, Miles. And this is not Beta Colony, so I don’t give a damn what you think,” is what he says to Miles’ complaining. Before shoving him into the changing room and stripping down to his own swimsuit.

Vorkosigan Surleau holds a lot of good memories for them both — childhoods spent horsing around in the lake under supervision; lax, for once, even with the Regent, the Emperor, and the Head of ImpSec on the beach cursing the Vorkosigans for being, well. Who they are. But the point is: Ivan knows Miles likes swimming, and his obnoxious cousin could use the exercise since he’d been skipping out on morning workouts.

“It doesn’t take ten minutes to get changed, Miles,” Ivan calls, leaning up against a wall impatiently.

IVAN VORPATRIL

[forwardmomentum]

No, it does not take ten minutes to get changed. Ten minutes is, however, plenty of time for a man to fall into a waking doze for a few minutes, propped up against the wall until Ivan's voice snaps him out of it. Blinkingly furiously, Miles stares almost resentfully down at the pair of swim trunks fisted in his hand, which he's not yet put on in some form of nonviolent protest. But, he decides, if he stalls any longer Ivan might take it upon himself to march back in here and dress Miles himself, and Miles is decidedly not interested in that blow to his dignity today. He's just lucky he was alone in the locker room when he fell asleep on his feet. With a hoarse growl of displeasure to himsef, Miles strips down hurriedly and throws on the swimsuit before he walks out to meet Ivan.

Ordinarily he'd respond to a dig like that with something much more vicious, but Miles's brain is so wired he swears he can hear crackling in his ears and he ignores it instead, raking a hand through his hair. His jaw is a little coarse with stubble, but if you know Miles well enough, you know it's that too-bright, hyper-alert look in his eyes that's the hallmark for just how sleep deprived he is. He jerks his chin up at Ivan, narrowing his eyes slightly as a belated thought occurs to him. "Ivan, did you go pawing around through my drawers?"

[whatdidisay]

"I'm sorry, is Mr. 'going to root through your credit report and my superior officer's' suddenly concerned about privacy?" He's not buying it, Miles. Giving his cousin a long, searching look now that he's decided to stop fighting Ivan's plans, he decides that he wasn't far off the mark. Miles looks like shit, and Ivan knows he hasn't been coming back to the room to sleep. Just what the entire ship needed -- him bouncing off the walls, deprived of sleep. Maybe if he tires his cousin out he'll pass out.

That's as good as straight up knocking him out, isn't it?

ELIZABETH

[whatdidisay]

Ivan’s use of the rec area has, for the most part, been confined to the work-out equipment and not the pool. But recent events have made him rethink this — and sure, half of it is motivated by the fact he gets to see Elizabeth in fewer clothes than normal. But the half has to do with the conversation Miles had with him earlier. The one he’s not thinking about, because if he does he will panic. He’s self aware enough to know that.

So instead: swimming. Elizabeth had seemed pleased with the idea, which was always a plus. Ivan’s already changed into swim trunks; a tasteful blue lined with gold trim — hey, someone has to represent the Vorpatrils now that he’s outnumbered by Vorkosigans. His arms are loaded with the fluffiest towels he can scrounge up, kicking his heels outside the changing room, waiting for her.

[tearmeanewone]

It's a while before Elizabeth pokes her head out of the changing room tentatively, looking a little shy and nervous. Yes, swimming sounded wonderful and swimming with Ivan was even better, but she hadn't thought about what she was going to do for a swimsuit. She'd managed to get her hands on one, yes, but it was far more revealing than she was used to. Two pieces? Two? And they didn't even meet in the middle! It's a French bathing suit, and while she's quite fond of everything Paris had to offer, its bathing suits were nothing short of risque.

Of course, Ivan probably didn't think that. He probably thought this was completely normal. But she still felt a little self-conscious because everything was more or less on display for perusal. Once she's sure nobody else is in the hall, she comes all the way out of the room.

"Alright, I'm ready!" she says with forced confidence. Really, Elizabeth is looking at Ivan and trying to figure out if he was scandalized, amused or... anything else that might suggest she needed a different bathing suit for this afternoon.

[whatdidisay]

Swimming? An absolutely amazing idea. Ivan takes a moment of pure appreciation, eyes lighting up as he looks her over before he catches her gaze and grins, slow and easy. No, the bathing suit is perfect. "You look great." He's just going to put this particular outfit up there with that black dress for his favorites.

He reaches out to take her hand, throwing the towels onto one of the deck chairs that seemed slightly out of place -- pulling her towards the pool eagerly. The lighting is weird -- the mimicry of the night sky above the pool setting a certain mood Ivan doesn't think is particularly helpful. They're on a ship, why not go all the way and have the real thing above them? Ah well.

"So," he starts, teasingly, "you want to be first in?"

He is fully prepared to pick her up and toss her in if the answer is yes. Or drag her in after him if her answer is no.

DUTCH

[whatdidisay]

The bar is his normal haunt after he gets off from work but rarely does he have the promise of company. Not for lack of effort, honestly, but he’s dealing with a limited population here. That and it’s easier to go out for drinks with a pack of officers from Ops HQ back home than it is here. Miles isn’t Ops, Gregor is— well, Gregor is Gregor. And Aunt Cordelia and Bel Thorne are out of the question. But he fancied he’d hit it off well enough with Dutch, hoped that would continue into the near future. This whole experience in ship duty was going to slowly kill his social life, he just knows it.

But he’s there in the bar at their agreed time, having dug behind the bar for the best options that Miles keeps squirreled away. Maple mead is right out, but there’s something that tastes like brandy and decent wine. Either way, Ivan’s eschewed his ship uniform for his Barrayaran one because he knows what works, damn it, and while he fills out his Moira gear just fine, there’s something about his undress greens. Put his best jackbooted foot forward, as it were. He — very successfully, he might add — doesn’t continually check his MID for the time, just taps his fingers against the counter in an off-rhythm patter.

[curiousnotmalicious]

The one thing Dutch credited her mother as being right about was that cultivating relationships is just as important as cultivating a skill. Unfortunately, being in a completely new place, Dutch had no relationships on the Moira. In New York City she had tons of friends and upwards of fifty people who owed her favors. She wasn’t wealthy in money, but in people? Filthy rich. It was quite a change when she came aboard this ship. That was her main motivation for trying to organize a poker game - Building up the amount of friends she called hers.

She’d been delighted when Ivan wanted to meet for drinks and it wasn’t just because it would mean that she’d made an acquaintance of some sort. He’d come off as perfectly charming and therefore the meeting seemed promising. It gave her something to look forward to.

If this had been Earth she would have been able to dress better or at least to her satisfaction, but on the Moira all she had was her uniform. Dutch primped, of course, but when she looked at her reflection before leaving for the bar she felt unsatisfied with her appearance. She was sure she looked fine, but that uniform... Well, it wasn’t the most flattering thing she’d ever worn.

When she walked into the bar there was a smile on her face. “Ivan?” She canted her head to the side as she took in his appearance. “Hello!”

[whatdidisay]

He brightens at her voice, turning in his seat and waving to her. "Dutch! Hey!" His accent is warm and guttural, vaguely similar to Russian, if someone dumped a bunch of Russians on a planet and abandoned it for seven hundred years. Whatever her reasons for coming are, Ivan's just pleased to both drink with someone attractive and drink at all. Less a need for connections and more raised by a woman who knew their value and so did it without thinking about it.

She looks nice, he also notes, as much as one can being newly arrived and forced to wear whatever clothes they had shoved at them. Mail days were, Ivan decides, some of the best days.

"Glad you could make it," he adds, gesturing to the seat next to him. "There's drink menus somewhere, with what this place has and their Earth equivalent--" It makes ordering so much easier if he doesn't have to guess.

i

[smoothaf]

At this point it's only a matter of time before Ivan and Illya run into each other and it clicks that there are two people who look like Clark Kent on board. Napoleon wants front row seats to the first and see how long it takes for the second.

Today Ivan looks like he's had a few drinks, nothing to seriously impair him, but enough that messing with him is likely to produce amusing results. Napoleon seats himself next to the other man and leans over to pick up a bottle and a glass for himself before addressing him.

"So have you named the cat yet?"

At this point he's given up all pretence except for maintaining Clark's accent.

[whatdidisay]

"Koshka," he responds, letting the Russian word roll off his tongue. See, he hasn't figured this out yet, but something's off about Clark when he looks up at the other man and he just can't put his finger on it.

Clone? Nah, no one else seems to have that sort of tech back in their universe. Still, something's up. He just doesn't know what.

[smoothaf]

"Koshka?"

Napoleon hasn't had the opportunity to learn Russian, but he's familiar enough to recognise it as likely Russian. "It sounds nice." It does however, make him wonder if their looks are based on their nationality. He and Clark are American, Ivan and Illya are Russian.

Despite his modest background, Napoleon drinks like a rich asshole. He pours a couple of fingers in his glass and notes the scent before he takes a small mouthful. He immediately frowns at his glass because this isn't something familiar to him.

I

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

J's wearing a beautiful purple dress, one that really compliments her dashing hourglass figure, when she walks to the bar area. She gives the place a quick scan, just to see which one of the bartenders is around. Even though she's somehow managed to end up being in a bad terms with both of them, she still would much rather deal with Jacky and her snark than Mr. Miles. But Miss Fortune seems to be on her side tonight, as neither of them can be seen around.

So, seeing that it's going to be a self-service night J marches to other side of the counter without any hesitation and starts to go through bottles, looking for the sweetest drink around. After she finds what she's looking for, she pours herself a drink and opens the "Red Thread" game on her MID.

Leaning on the counter with back turned towards the hall, she keeps playing the game and tries out several characters-- but the one she seems to putting most time and effort to just happens to be the one who's modelled after one certain grumpy looking, shorter male crewman.

[whatdidisay]

There's the sort of woman Ivan likes to see around. One with a good figure, nice hair -- not the blonde that normally does things when Miles isn't around. He's about to strike up a conversation, leaning forward to tap her shoulder, when his gaze is caught by the game on her MID. The romance game, well. Women will be women, Ivan supposes.

Except--

"Are you romancing my cousin?" He can't help but say, astounded.

[gentlemenpreferblondes]

There's no such game that could distract her from noticing a man looking at her direction. Feeling satisfied with the attention, she stays still, standing her back turned to him as she waits patiently for him to come to her. But when he moves closer to make the first move and opens his mouth to address her, what he says is everything else than what she expected to hear.

"Huh, what?" She quickly turn her head to look over her shoulder at him, clearly taken aback by this revelation. She didn't know that Mr. Miles had a cousin, let alone that he was also on the ship. Really, what a small world.

Oh well. She shakes the surprise off rather quickly and her lips curl up into a charming smile. "A cousin, really? Well, what a perfect timing, then. Maybe you could help a little? See, I'm stuck on this episode where I'm supposed to buy him a gift but for some reason he seems to hate everything I give him."

i. It's Time

[diamondslap]

Considering they've never met or spoken before, Aurelia doesn't recognise Ivan or pay him any mind.

She strides past him, behind the counter and immediately starts rooting around. There's a very clear sound of bottles rattling, one being broken then a soft hiss of a curse. She's not having much luck. After a moment, she pops back up and starts on the other side of the bar.

Unfortunately, she's not in here often enough to find what she's looking for without a server. Bummer.

Re: i. It's Time

[whatdidisay]

For a moment Ivan considers this a stroke of good luck! A woman he hasn't run into -- and fairly attractive at that. He's about to open his mouth, start a conversation, make an impression, and then she breaks something.

"Oh come on -- I know we don't pay for damages but you're wasting good alcohol!"

Please stop. He needs that. Whatever it is, he's pretty sure he needs it.

[diamondslap]

Aurelia stands up, slowly turns around. Holds up one of her hands, in which there's a small bottle of an unidentifiable blue liquid.

Her diadem lights up, and a few seconds later, while she doesn't break eye contact with Ivan, the bottle is frozen to the point of having mini icicles hanging off the bottom.

She drops it, still maintaining eye contact, and grins ever so slightly when it smashes on the ground.

[heart_breaking]

"The captains had a question about your February report."

The datapad that they dump on the desk in front of him is almost as flat as their voice, and at least as humorless. There's something depressing about going around and delivering conversations about other people's weaknesses; they're not contagious, are they? Chara hopes not. For all of their behavior problems, laziness is not one they're often accused of.

"They also said to remind you you to start using these different forms next time. They changed weeks ago."

[whatdidisay]

Oh shit.

Ivan's feet hit the floor with a thump as he looks at the kid, panic hidden behind his eyes for a split second before he recovers. He made it out of one conversation, he can make it out of this one. "Sure, but all that changed was the header." If the captains wished it, he'd make it happen. Ivan sighs, taking the datapad off of the desk and flipping through it.

"What about my February report?"

[heart_breaking]

Their eyebrows scrunch together, staring hard through the desk. "Um. They say you didn't include anything about what the refugees' plans were after they got dumped planetside." Now back at him, mildly accusatory. "You mentioned that they wouldn't die on arrival, sure, but that's it. You are their Public Relations Officer, right? If the Captains are supposed to trust you with dealing with outside ships, then how are they going to do that without knowing you'll have any idea what you'll say?"

The data pad itself was scrolled very, very slightly down from the top of its screen, as though it had been carelessly returned from a hasty skimming. The document itself has the relevant section highlighted, as well as a Captain's note including Chara's first reported question, but not the rest. Chara doesn't look guilty, or even a little discomfited; considering who it is, this might not mean a thing.

ELIZABETH DEWITT; DATE NIGHT

[whatdidisay]

After scrounging around the kitchen and the mess and bribing whoever was cooking to help him out, Ivan feels as if he's Prepared. He'd found a basket somewhere -- declining not to ask questions -- and had stuffed it full of food, candles, and a bedsheet from his new room that looked decent enough to pass a blanket. Maybe if he was more like Miles he'd give this thing a name -- Operation Picnic, maybe? All Ivan knows is that he can speak French better than Russian and he's got a woman to charm. He's got Elizabeth to charm.

Which is why, basket on one arm, he shows up at Elizabeth's door at precisely six -- grin fixed and eyes bright. "You ready, Elizabeth?"

[tearmeanewone]

Given Ivan was coming to her door this time, Elizabeth also makes sure to be prepared on time. Yes, her room is still in disarray because she spent all day showering and doing her makeup and squeezing into fancy shaping undergarments, but in the end she looks herself over and knows it was time well-spent.

"I'm ready!" she calls, jumping up from the chair she'd been waiting anxiously in and going to the door. Elizabeth smiles at Ivan, then of course her eyes go to what he's carrying. "A basket...?" she asks, curious, but clearly putting some things together.

...she just really hopes he's not going to take her down to Ceta for this.

MILES VORKOSIGAN

[whatdidisay]

Once Ivan says goodbye to Elizabeth for the night, he knows there's one place he absolutely needs to go: Miles. He's the one that got him into this mess, or at least told Ivan he had a crush on the woman. And now? Now he does need to panic. Which is why he slides into Miles' office without warning, not having found his cousin in their room and the door to this one unlocked.

He doesn't give his cousin any warning, instead flopping down into the chair in front of his desk, looking dazed and well kissed as well as, well.

Slightly panicked.

[forwardmomentum]

Miles was totally not nodding off at his desk. Nodding off would imply some form of restful weariness, rather than the bone-deep exhaustion he's been feeling lately. No, it was more like falling into a trance, staring blankly into the middle distance. At least it looks something vaguely like being awake when Ivan drops himself unceremoniously in the chair, although Miles flinches as he jerks back to consciousness, blinking rapidly until he narrows his eyes at Ivan with a slight face. Come on, man.

"Please, by all means, have a seat," Miles says dryly, although the effect is slightly ruined by the tired crack in his voice. "Thanks so much for knocking. I'm doing just fine, coz, thanks for asking! It's so nice to see you again, you look..." Miles breaks off slightly and squints at Ivan, one eyebrow quirking. "...ravished," he supplies, finally.