vdistinctive | At the docks, then out to sea, Sunday

The colors from the previous days were still holding, if maybe slightly more muted, Fandom's magic slowly fading but still managing to hang on for another day.

Seemed like a good omen as any for a wedding that Eliot still couldn't quite believe was happening.

Eliot's boat wasn't big enough for all their guests so they had "rented" (long story) a well-appointed yacht for the day. It was docked in the Port of Fandom, waiting for all the guests to board. Once the last person had crossed the gangplank, it sailed almost to the edge of the island, where blue water lapped with gray. Eliot's boat was already there, anchor down, Hardison in a tux, playing around with a sound system.

A few minutes to futz with mics and the speakers set up discreetly around the yacht came to life. "Testin'...Testin'..." Hardison murmured. Good. Everybody would be able to hear the ceremony on the second ship.

Looks like it was time to begin.

[TIME FOR A WEDDING! If you think you were invited, you were. Some OCD coming]

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Eliot gave him a considering look. "You know, you don't have to stick around here if you don't want to, either."

He had a feeling Sparkle's reasons for sticking around were complicated, to say the least. But he figured it was worth saying.

"No." A beat. "Yes? I mean. Kinda. Toronto's out, but I'm looking at maybe fixing that. Like. Properly, sometime. Which I might be asking you guys for help with, maybe." Because they were the ones least likely to have to murder someone in the face to help Sparkle get his name cleared, admittedly. "But. Like."

He huffed softly, remembering Atton's breakdown on him the other week when he'd thought he was going to just pack up and take off to Mexico forever. And the extra step he'd need to visit Leto, whenever he had time free, and...

"God, leaving here would be a mess."

Arrakis, Coruscant, and Mexico. None of them were really home, either.

"It gets under your skin, doesn't it," Eliot said. "Can't blame you for wanting to stick around. You wanna get away for awhile, though, we're thinking of setting up shop in New Orleans."

"It definitely does something, anyway," Sparkle agreed. "But oh my god, New Orleans. I could speak my shitty Canadian French down there and they'd just stare at me and try to parse it with their weird Cajun French, and god help us all if there's anybody from France nearby, they'd explode."

“Sounds like a good time for everyone involved.”

"Except Messieurs Français, anyway, yup."

Which, hey, if you were a hypothetical priss who was going to be fussy about regional dialects while on vacation, you probably deserved to explode anyway.

At the docks, then out to sea, Sunday

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