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Who wouldn't bring their wallet? Honestly he was surprised Candace didn't. Then again, they were all used to going to deserts and forests and haunted houses. But when it called to be fancy? Wallet time.

Otto ordered the priciest steak he found on the menu, but no veggies. Because Eva wasn't there to make him.

"If you die before your steak comes, I'm kickin' yeah under the table and eatin' yer share." And taking his wallet, cause go for broke. "So uh... what happen to yer hair? Get caught in a weed whacker? It's short."

"You would do that." Dakota snorted, "Whatever, ghost exist, I'll come back in the name of vengeance for my steak. like batman. But steak." He chuckled before leaning back in his chair, and as if reading Otto's mind he mentioned..."No vegetables? You're still a growing boy Otto." He grinned. He grinned so hard.

His hand came up to run through the shortened locks before shrugging. "Ryan thought it'd be a funny joke, so he chopped it all off while I wasn't looking. Was a bit longer and since he already chopped it off, I had a friend style it for me now. Which is why it's short too." He gave a stare at Otto's hair too, "So when did you add the pink?"

The longer he sat, the more Lawrence found himself regretting his life choices in taking a drink. It dulled the vague sense of wrongness that the voice wrapped around his brain exuded certainly, but he felt just a bit light headed and nauseous. Nerves didn't combine well with alcohol at the best of times and he tried very hard to redirect his attention elsewhere - in this case to a guy sitting evidently speaking to himself, or at least he deduced, his weapon.

His musings about jazz interested him though and he spoke up idly.

"It's what they do within the confines of that tempo which sets the real improvisers apart." Con artistry was improvisation, scoping out the wiggle room within the confines of rules. He could certainly appreciate.



He tried to ignore the thing's comments.

"Well, if a fleck of broccoli ends up on my plate, yer welcome to it." Otto said with raised brows, taking another generous sip of his beer. Yeah, he felt like a real man now. Drinking a beer in a $2000 suit and waiting on a steak. Living the American dream, Otto.

Yeah.. don't touch on the growth. Or lack there of. He hadn't grown an inch since he was 14.

"Pretty sure that was Jeremy's idea. He and the girls bullied me into playing their stupid game." Otto grumbled, leaning back and levelling his narrow gaze at the giggling Dakota.

Walking very slowly and deliberately, Harland made his way towards the Ben & Jerry's; if he couldn't calm his stomach down, maybe his body would appreciate some icecream. Where was the logic? Oh, Harland didn't know, maybe on the damn shore where his happy normal body was still located. A tall woman in a slinky dress walked by, probably on her way to the casino.

☆≼Would you look at her legs, mmm...≽

A voice popped into his head, relatively unbidden. Harland winced, and ran a hand over his face, as if willing himself to disappear. "Do ye have to do that?" Harland asked it, his accent perpetually shifting. "Now, of all times?"

And then, approaching the counter, "If it's alright with you, friend, I'm going to stop listening to you now," Harland told Coyote, though he timed it so that the attendant at the counter initially thought it was for her. "Sorry, bluetooth," Harland lied, pointing to his ear. Yeah, that was normal, wasn't it? He'd made up stories like that before, back in his old life.

Speaking of his old life, turns out he had a single 20$ bill left from who he had been. That 20$ had been precious; it was his emergency fund. And now it was all that remained between him and cutting his ties forever. Well, that and a lot of really scruffy clothing, but he'd have to hang on to that for a while longer. "White Russian, in a waffle cone? Just the smallest size," Harland asked, "if you'd be so kind." He slid some of the money across the counter to the attendant, and icecream was exchanged. He started to walk away, but realized he could use some water, and then the spinning motion made him fairly nauseous.

Where would be nice, dark, and inside? The bar, surely-- with icecream? Well, it is a white russian, Harland thought to himself. He approached a group of three strangers and ignored the atmosphere of the situation to ask: "Y'all wouldn't happen to know where the bar is, w-- oh, pardon," he started, and then awkwardly stopped. Two of them appeared to be on the young side.

☆≼At least my taste is for beautiful women, and I don't ask children where the bar is,≽ Coyote accused, teasing.

Scanning their faces, Harland realized he recognized one of them: Gale, the Death Hunter who'd greeted him. The man's face softened, and he didn't even realize icecream was dripping down his hand. "Ah, it's you! Pleased to see you again," Harland said. He seemed like he meant it, too. "Are y'all enjoying the accommodations?" Harland asked, smiling beatifically.

[Enter]

Matt had to admit he had never been on a cruise, not that he didn't want to he just never got the chance to actually go on one. School kept him busy when he was even old enough to go on one and actually enjoy it. It was pretty amazing to see something the size of a thirty floor hotel crammed into a floating vessel. The ship barely even felt as if it was moving along the waves as he stood there. He did hope however that on this mission it wasn't about to sink to the bottom of the ocean like the Titanic.

He did not want to be like the Titanic.

Looking around he noticed all of the shops on the promenade wondering if Bix and Tori wanted to visit any. The suit shop as appealing it was for him to get a new one for safe keeping but that was something he would do one day on his own not with Tori and Bix around. It would likely bore them. Instead the Ben and Jerry's looked pretty promising.

Ice creaaaammm.... the thought sort of made him drool of the sugary goodness.

The general store wasn't bad either, it was always fun to buy little knick knack to take back with them. Or even if lounging in the main lobby wasn't bad, jazz music sort of reminded him of a mission previously with a blue kingdom.

"So where would you guys like to go? I'm going to put a hand up for ice cream or the convenience store personally." He replied giving a grin hoping that ice cream would be picked.

"Yes. A group effort, every player in a good jazz band has to know their instrument but also their bandmates. Best jazz trumpet isn't nothing without a band to really set him up."

Taking the proferred hand, he gave it a confident and perfectly affirming shake, if there was one thing he had down to an art, it was handshakes.

"The name's Jan" he lied, because at this point lying to direct questions was practically reflex. "And I'm new. Very new. Woke up today." It was probably easier to flag down doubts before they got caught up in awkward misunderstandings. At least this guy looked a bit older than some of the kids he'd seen running around in the pre-mission area. And of course, like everyone else, he was actually dressed the part.