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Cyrus shifted in his seat in one corner of the chaotic mess hall. He was grateful to his rescuers, but only now realized that they were mechanised and immortal. It was obvious from the beginning they were pirates, but some looked a lot less human than others, and he was trying not to stare. The crew of the Aurora went about hollering at one another and waving weapons in one hand and, with some, tumblers of whiskey in the other hand. A few of them were singing some sort of shanty, words jumbled in with shouts and banging on the table.
At the center of it all sat the First Mate, who was insisting on being called Captain. He was somewhat odd-looking, what with his wild hair and those black lightning marks branching out from his eyes. But then, the rest of the crew either matched or exceeded his standard. He was wobbling back and forth unsteadily at the main table, but somehow managed to never spill a drop of alcohol. His loud voice seemed to warble the shanty over all of them.
“Nevermind Jonny,” Ashes O’Reilly said, taking a seat beside Cyrus. “He’s harmless. Mostly. To us, anyway.”
Cyrus took the advice and another drink. Across the room, the shanty came to a halt as Jonny climbed rather clumsily onto the table. A woman with blue-streaked hair and greyish skin moved a half filled bottle out of his drunken path, like she’d been ready for this eventuality.
“Oi!” He hollered over everyone, “What’ta hell you two whispering about? Get the hell over here!”
“I swear, sometimes it’s quiet on this ship,” Ashes sighed, standing with a shrug. “Sometimes he’s asleep.”
Cyrus, decidedly trying out something new, followed Ashes to the main table. After all, sitting at the table by himself, sitting by himself while everyone else was having a good time … Well, he’d done far too much of that in the past.
The crew had made a pit stop at the station where Cyrus was working as an alcohol and narcotic alchemist. Jonny took a hit of Cyrus’ Neptune Dust and immediately asked if he could kidnap him. It only took a moment for the offer to register before Cyrus nodded. They took him aboard, shot their guns mostly into the air, and then shot enough holes into the space station so that nobody would be able to report it.
Surprisingly enough, there was space for him at the main table. Cyrus found himself a seat next to a mechanical bronze man who introduced himself as Drumbot Brian with a handshake. On the other side sat someone with an undercut who was deep into a book, but looked up long enough to introduce themself as Ivy. Drumbot Brian then told Cyrus that the one on the other side of Ivy, who was drinking like it was his full time job, was Gunpowder Tim.
The table itself was old and beaten, in some places literally. It had more knife marks in it than there was food, which was just some forgotten bread crisps in the middle. Many bottles of alcohol in various states of emptiness littered the surface. Across from Cyrus sat a sort of living wooden person, engaged in conversation with Jonny. Upon closer inspection, however, it was more so Jonny arguing at the wooden person, and getting more and more upset as it listened wordlessly.
There was something about him that caught Cyrus’s attention. Jonny, not the wooden person that Jonny was now shaking by the shoulders. It wasn’t quite a romantic attraction, though there was some of that present as well. No, it was more like distant admiration. Despite his loud, drunken and intimidating demeanor and slightly frightening appearance, Jonny somehow seemed bright. Cyrus secretly wished he could someday be like that, too. He would never admit that, of course. However, no one on this pirate ship would understand that, and it’d be far too embarrassing to admit anyways. No sense in making a fool of himself on the first day.
Absent-mindedly, Cyrus reached for one of the untouched bread crisps in the middle of the table, accidentally brushing another hand on the way. When he saw the owner of the hand, his whole face seemed to turn red all at once. Jonny, one saltine richer, only noticed that it had been a while since he was the center of attention.
"Fuck, I got myself so wrapped up in talking with our Toy Soldier here, I barely noticed you at all!” He yelled. The rest of the crew quieted down somewhat, knowing something interesting was impending. “You make some truly spectacular drugs, y’know that? What’s your name, druggie?”
He forced a relaxed demeanor, channeling someone who didn’t want to crawl under the table. In a voice that was probably noticeably too deep, he said, "It's Cyrus."
"Well then, allow me to extend an official welcome, straight from the captain of the Aurora-"
"First mate," came a cacophony of voices, some attempting to hide behind fake coughs, others blatant and shameless.
"Nevermind them," dismissed Jonny, with his nose defiantly in the air, "They've had a lot to drink tonight; they don't know what they're saying. Speaking of which…" He trailed off, searching the table for an unused glass and proceeding to fill it with the contents of the closest bottle. "How rude of me, not offering you a drink!"
Jonny smoothly slid the glass past the knife marks in the table over to Cyrus, who managed to catch it with both hands. He hardly ever drank back on the space station, but this was clearly more Enseign’s Folly. A hard one to drink.
"Now, to all of you who insist on calling me, ugh… ‘First Mate’,” He said with a flourish of air quotes, “As I have said a thousand times, anyone holding the highest rank on the ship is the Captain. You know, automatically. It just makes sense. Wouldn't you agree, Silas?"
Cyrus assumed it was a running inside joke, but the eye contact from Jonny made his neck warm too. “Cyrus. And, uh, makes sense to me?”
Jonny did a good job of hiding his surprise, and nodded at Cyrus for a minute. “Yes. Yes!” He started pointing around the room now, “That, crew, is the kind of behaviour I expect from you! Blind loyalty! Anything else is nothing short of mutiny!” He ate the saltine whole to prove his point, and then hacked and coughed as it got stuck in his throat.
Cyrus took a sip as the captain's crew laughed. It was smooth and pleasant, the taste that gave Ensign’s Folly its name. He took a big gulp from the glass, leaving a bit dripping down his chin.
Recovered from his saltine escapade, Jonny seemed to lock back onto Cyrus. A light of excitement came to his eyes, followed by a wolfish grin. He snatched a half empty bottle from a fellow with a monogoggle who was already passed out anyway. Putting one boot undelicately on the table, he pointed directly at Cyrus and announced, “ DRINKING CONTEST !”
The woman with blue streaked hair put her face in one hand and muttered, “Oh no.” Drumbot Brian and Gunpowder Tim cheered, while Ivy snickered without looking up from her book.
The Folly part of Ensign’s Folly was starting to kick in. He finished the last of his glass and set it loudly back on the table. “You’re on, Captain.”
The table somewhat cheered and seemed to gather around the two men, waking Marius. Drumbot Brian started refilling Cyrus’s glass, while Jonny grabbed a fresh bottle and bit the cork off with a pop before spitting it behind him.
Both glasses ready and both men seated, Gunpowder Tim slammed a hand into the table. “Drink!”
This was a bad time to be a notorious lightweight. There was no way he would admit that now, though, and knocked back the entirety of the glass. Upon slamming the glass down again, Cyrus saw Jonny grinning madly, his cup already being refilled. Better step up the speed next time.
Gunpowder Tim was standing on the table now. Karate chopping the air, he nearly hit Nastya. “Drink!”
The third drink felt easier, but that could’ve been the drinking. By the time Jonny finished his, Cyrus was already ready for his next drink, even if he was panting a bit. Jonny looked bewildered.
From on top of the table, Gunpowder Tim did a jump-kick that Ivy leaned back to dodge, never looking up from her book. “DRINK!”
The fourth drink made Cyrus worry about getting sick in front of all these people. Upon finishing, he was trying to formulate a way to stop drinking without telling the crew he wanted to stop drinking.
Luckily, Jonny had something in mind. Swaying, he pointed his mostly empty glass at Cyrus. “You… You cheat- urrp -cheated! I arready had four glassses… You only had one!”
“Excuse me, hold on one moment,” said Brian. “I don’t think that quite counts as cheating.”
Jonny messily stood up, taking out the revolver from the holster on the back of his hip. He began to say something, motioning with the revolver pointed at Cyrus, but half the room burst into warnings.
“Woah, easy with that gun,” warned Ivy.
“Put that thing back where it came from or so help me…” Nastya said in one breath.
“We may all be immortal, but he isn’t,” Brian said.
Lowering Jonny’s wrist, Tim said, “And you’re drunk.”
“One wrong shot could end his life.” Ashes cautioned.
“Why…“ Jonny sighed dramatically, “Why must you be right?” He pocketed the revolver. “I suppose I’ll be taking my leave then,” he said with a roll of his eyes. He was far from steady on his feet, but visibly determined to make it out of the mess hall on his own.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence later, Tim placed a hand on Cyrus’s right shoulder. “I’m sorry. He can get pretty shooty when he’s drinking. It’s fine for us, because we can’t exactly die, but…”
Much to the surprise of the crewmates, Cyrus stood as well.
In his blurred, drunken state, he knew he had to follow him. There was something big that Cyrus had to say, something that would make Jonny think. The way Cyrus had been thinking all night. The crew of the Aurora watched their newest member take off after Jonny. Or maybe he needed the toilet. Ivy turned a page.
Hindered by the drink and a poor sense of direction on an unfamiliar ship, it still wasn’t too hard to find Jonny, as he was also stumbling down the ship’s hall.
“Hey! Jonny! Wait!”
Jonny went to spin on his heel, and almost fell over himself in the process. The man’s eyebrows knit together in drunken confusion. “Wh… what are you doing out here?”
Cyrus’s face was warm, and it wasn’t just from the alcohol. “I don’t really drink. Not all that much, anyway, and I- I’ve never been in a drinking contest before.”
“Shiiiit,” Jonny mumbled, staring at Cyrus. “I lost a drinking contest to a fuckin… teeto-taler -”
“No!” Cyrus sputtered, “That’s not the point!”
“Wait then, then…” said Jonny, one hand on the ship's wall for support. “Why did you?”
“I wanted to impress you!” Oh fuck, he just said it. Out loud. Cyrus turned a new shade of red.
“What’s that now?”
“When I first saw you, I wasn’t sure if I wanted you or if I wanted to be you,” Oh god, Cyrus’ brain said, stop talking forever. “And I still don’t know! But there's something you’ve got that I want to have, that I’ve always wanted to have, and I just,” There were tears forming in his eyes. “I don’t think I can ever be like you.”
He practically spat out the last words. Maybe Jonny wouldn’t see the tears running down his cheeks, maybe it was too dark in the corridors of the Aurora.
“Are you talking about how we’re all immortal here? Because that’s not really all it’s cracked up to be--”
“No, it’s not that. I just, I could never hope to be as much… as much of a man as you are. You don’t understand how much comes so naturally to you, You’ve never had to unlearn and, and, relearn all these things that… It’s so much pressure, trying to keep up with other men. And you never even give it a second thought, it’s effortless. I can’t... “
His voice broke off there, the lump in his throat was overwhelming, and he couldn’t really do anything other than stand there and cry in embarrassment and self-directed frustration. Cyrus should’ve known, this was what happened when he got too drunk too fast, he just started to talk too much and get emotional.
For a moment Jonny didn’t say anything, and then Cyrus felt a pair of arms wrap around him. Jonny was warm, smelled like smoke and whiskey, and given who he knew him to be so far, gave surprisingly good hugs. Now that they were this close, Cyrus realized they were about the same height..
“It’s never easy,” muttered Jonny under his breath, so quietly Cyrus almost didn’t catch it.
“What?”
“Transitioning. It’s never easy. Gets easier with time though, that’s for damn sure.”
Cyrus looked up slowly, processing what he’d heard.
“Got the scars to prove it, if you don’t believe me,” Jonny said, still holding Cyrus in a hug, his breath warm and horrible. All of Jonny was warm...
Cyrus’s face flushed. “No, no, I believe you,” he stammered. “I believe you.”
“Now, listen. You don’t need to prove anything,” Jonny said in a tone Cyrus was certain was hardly ever used. “Not to me, not to the crew, not to anyone.”
That was something he’d had to do a lot when he was on the space station. A quiet “thank you” was all he could manage.
“Do you want to come back to my quarters?” asked Jonny. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d show you the scars...”
Cyrus blinked, trying not to look at Jonny’s lips. “That might be a bad idea…”
“Eh? Why’s that?”
“Well, Captain,” Cyrus said, nestling back into Jonny’s arms, “You
have
been drinking…”