Falling in Love, Again

<snip>
"Well either you are immune to the potion or you just can't fall in love
with someone who is already in love." Said holly staring after the couples.
"Well back to work," Dante said as he continued the trek to the hangars.
<end snip>
------------
Who: Mark McJohn, Elian Sandoval, Victoria de Felice, and more.
Where: Parrott's Bar and elsewhere
When: Before the love virus was released
------------
After a suprisingly uneventful landing in the shuttle bay, Mark McJohn and
Elian Sandoval staggered down into Parrott's and then staggered up to the
bar. McJohn ordered a Jameson's and Sandoval a tequila. They drank them,
muttered to each other about how glad they were to be away from the smegging
planet Plebe, and how good they looked in their new outfits they had
acquired during the raid on the castle armory. When they finished their
first round of drinks, they ordered a second round, and so on and so on and
so on until about fifteen rounds later then decided they'd had just nearly
enough, and staggered out the door.
Mark hung back for a moment. Elian looked at him. "What'sh up, amigo?"
"Nothing, nothing compadredon," Mark emphatically slurred. He had one hand
against the wall for support, and the other free to make expressive, but
quite meaningless hand gestures. "Muy bueno escalante zapatitos" he
continued, following that up with other words which were either
pseudo-Spanish, Pig Latin, or whiskey induced gibberish. Finally he told
Elian that he would catch him up later. "Hasta nuevo mantequilla, Elian."
"Si, si. Whatever." replied Elian, who was having as much trouble speaking
Spanish as Mark was.
Mark watched Elian walk off, then turned around and staggered towards the
ship's library where he, as usual on these occasions, would open an
audiobook of T.S. Elliot poetry and fall into a drunken sleep before the
first verse was finished.
He had just turned a corner, tripping over a skutter in the process, when he
ran into his favorite female crewmember, Planetary Geologist Victoria de
Felice. Her blue eyes, he observed through his rapidly clouding vision,
were as blue as they normally were. Her ash-blonde hair seemed to be moving
of its own accord, but then again, Mark thought, he had had a few drinks,
and things were bound to seem a little different.
"Hiya Vicki," he drunkenly exclaimed, "howsh it goin' me luverly, eh wot?"
"Oh, the usual. Life, things. Right now I'm talking to a man so drunk he
won't remember any of this tomorrow morning."
"Yeaa-up! That'sh right!" Mark broke down into uncontrolled laughter as
Victoria edged past him quickly and dissapeared down the corridor.
Mark turned to follow her, but in his stupor he forgot where he was going
and wound up back in his own quarters. Elian was sleeping peacefully except
for the puddle of drool on his sheets. Mark, who had been singing "The
Battle Hymn of the Republic" in bad Esperanto while he had been in the lift,
changed into his pajamas, hung up the mobster suit fairly skillfully on a
coat rack, and fell into his bunk. Almost as soon as he pulled the Fedora
over his hat, he fell into a deep, drunked sleep.
While they were sleeping, the virus was released.
When Mark woke up, he heard the unmistakeable voice of Jean Harlow. He
turned around to the videoscreen and saw her platinum visage on the screen,
and fell instantly in love. Which was fortuneate for him, since otherwise
he would have fell in love with Elian, and frankly, Mark preferred him as a
friend.
He rubbed his eyes, then turned back to the videoscreen and made a decision.
He was spending the rest of the day in the A/R suite.
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