Work Text:
Loto glanced around the venue, a little uncertain. Admittedly, she didn't get invited to parties a lot, given her history with… uh… combustion in general. Fortunately, she was here as Loto the Exceptional Shipwright, What a Clever Sail Design, All Wind Power Really, and no one here except Kai and Kai's not-girlfriend was privy to her juvenile offense record.
Parties may have been a bit overrated though. The vendors and demonstrators had all been shuffled over to an indoor gathering space for some soirée thing? It was a lot of talking and fancy-ass food and not a lot of actual boats, except for paintings and models, because they were by the water, but even those were only so interesting. Technically, talking to people was an option, but like… she knew where she went. Standing in a corner with a glass of she-didn't-actually-know-what would get her just as far.
Actually, what was she drinking? It was fizzy, but that was about all she could divine.
Fuck. Was this alcoholic? Would the hostel let her in if she was drunk? Wait, of course the hostel would let her in drunk. She knew that. And it's not like she could drive, even when she was sober. It was one glass. A little mental fuzz, maybe. It would be fine. She may go hide in the bathroom for a bit, but that was just because of the echo.
The bathroom was bright and shiny and clean, and the lights were literal eyesores. Loto found the light switch and turned them off. Now she couldn't see shit, but no one was screaming, so it was a win.
She sipped her maybe-alcohol. Faint static trickled in from somewhere. Bats. Cool. A bat scientist had visited the school once, back when Loto was in elementary. Definitely one of the cooler adults she'd ever met.
A stall door creaked. Loto blinked. Someone else was in there?
"Hello?" a voice called. "Is the power out?"
"No, I turned off the lights," Loto admitted.
"Understandable," the voice agreed. A few quiet taps later, and a vaguely familiar face was lit up by a phone flashlight.
"Hi" was accompanied by a little wave as the woman moved towards the sinks. Loto muttered a greeting back and stood by.
"Do you know what this is?" she asked abruptly. The stranger looked up.
"Not by sight alone-"
Loto held out the glass. The stranger accepted it and took a tentative sip.
"Cream soda," she pronounced. Loto nodded and took her drink back.
"Thank you."
"Any time," the stranger said, and left.
Loto regarded her soda. Maybe she did want alcohol.
An unknowable amount of time and a lot of panicked internet searches later, Loto was discovering the emboldening properties of a little doux champagne. Between that and adrenaline, the faces were blurring together, and forget the names. The names were never even in the game. Fuck the names. Were her hands shaking? Her hands were shaking. She hated parties.
She looked back up to see the stranger from the bathroom again.
"What are you here for?" she asked. The stranger blinked.
"What?"
"What are you here for? What are you selling?"
"Oh! I'm a demonstrator, actually," the stranger explained. "I'm Moana. You are?"
"Intoxicated with alcohol!"
"I see," Moana said. "What's your name?"
"Loto. Legally Lototasi, but I just go by Loto. Easier to yell when something's on fire."
Moana definitely made a face at that, but she hid it quickly.
"What are you here at the boat show for, Loto?"
"CANOES" Loto grinned. "I like making physics work for me. Also not combusting things."
"No way, I sail canoes!" Moana smiled broadly. "I'll have to check out yours sometime. What stand are you at?"
Loto blanked.
The room was noisy. The lights sparkled. Everything moved but her thoughts.
"Lo-"
"I'm going outside."
The night air was cool and salty. The water was comparatively warm, thanks to water's stubborn heat resistance, and Loto didn't hesistate to wade in, shoes and jeans and all.
Moana waded in a moment later.
"You good?"
"Physically, mentally, or morally?"
"…Physically and mentally."
Loto shrugged.
"I don't belong at parties."
Moana was quiet.
"Stand 174," Loto added.
"Huh?"
"That's where I'm at, stand 174. You asked earlier."
"Oh yeah. I'll be sure to swing by when I have the chance. I'll warn you though," she added mischievously, "It's gonna take a looong time to answer all my questions, unless you maybe wanna get a head start?"
Loto narrowed her eyes.
"Why the fuck are you fluttering your eyelashes?"
Moana snorted.
"I'm laying it on thick to try and get you to talk about your canoes in your off-time," she explained. Loto blinked.
"Most people 'lay it on thick' to try and get me to shut up about canoes. This is a nice change, I think. What do you want to know?"
"Let's start with the basics: names, size, and materials…"
Moana was staring. She was definitely staring, just a little bit, but it was hardly her fault she liked her women passionate. And passionate certainly described Loto, who had taken off from the original prompt into an enthusiastic ramble about the pros and cons of various canoes features, introducing less familiar points about the construction of various designs.
"I mean, it's great wood, but why would you EVER make any watercraft out of it? It's whole sell is being dense as hell!" Loto glanced over and paused. "What's that face?"
"Hm? What face?"
"The face you were making. I've seen it before somewhere…" She narrowed her eyes comtemplatively, then snapped her fingers.
"That's face Kai and Lani make when they wanna fuck!" she chirped. Moana choked on her own spit as Loto realized the implications. "Wait-"
Moana averted her gaze towards the ocean. Was she horny? Did listening to a girl talk about canoes make her horny? Gods, Maui would never let her hear the end of this if he found out.
"Do you want to have sex with me?" Loto asked.
"Maybe?" Moana fudged. The crashing waves were the only sound for a bit as Loto pondered this.
"Would you pay money to do it?"
"What?" Moana turned back to face Loto, who shrugged.
"I need money. For education. I don't want to have to sell designs under my boss's name forever."
"Oh. Um. Sure? You- you do actually want to have sex though, right?"
"Yeah, at least to find out what the hype is," Loto answered distractedly. "Should I calculate minimum acceptable charge by time spent on location or by time spent actively engaging in intercourse?"
"How about I just give you three hundred dollars and call it even?"
"That works. Where to, then?"
The Follow-up:
"Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey-"
Moana blinked groggily, barely conscious and even less aware of the situation. Like, obviously she'd slept with someone, but who woke someone else up like that?
A screen was shoved in her face, and she recoiled, squinting.
"My boss's kid wants to know if this is you," a far-too-awake voice announced. Moana could just make out the blurry image of some movie poster or another, that yes, she was on. She gave a thumbs-up and buried her face back in the pillow, grunting softly when whoever she'd liked last night used her body as a cushion.
Loto texted back a quick "ye" and tossed her phone away. It knocked a small digital clock off the bedside table, but the steady green glow of "2:21" indicated she hadn't broken anything. She left it for the morning and curled up against Moana once more.
The Hokule'a. Length: sixty-four feet and nine inches. Beam: nineteen feet, eight inches. Mast height…