[1] - [Voice]

[sharpememory]

[Sounding slightly amused, but still stern.] Dear patrons. I'm disappointed to say that a certain item has gone missing from one of our passengers. If you've seen a stray notebook containing yellow legal paper, I firmly suggest that you return it to the library. No questions asked, of course.

[And on to pleasant voice.] And for the rest of you, please enjoy your day.

[People-With-Gloves Filter. If you've been wearing gloves lately, you're included.]

It appears that someone has removed this notebook from my room. It's a manuscript for a novel I'm writing and I'd be very upset to lose it. It would mean a lot to me if it was returned before our next staff meeting.

[OOC: What's going on here: Barron's assumed that he's on some kind of hippy cruise, filled with the bizarre kind of people who don't wear gloves. Which in his universe is the equivalent of being half naked. So he's assumed that he's working here while trying to scam someone out of something and has forgotten a huge chunk of information after using his power. He also thinks that everyone he's seen wearing gloves is a normal person catering to the rest of you strange nudists (so cruise staff members). Finally, Barron thinks that he's lost the notebook where he wrote how he got here and is on a mission to find it. And sorry for the info dump, guys. :c]

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SPAM!

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[Prefect nodded, following Barron through into the Wardens area.] Yes, Comrade, he was from the seventies.

[He clipped the radio onto his belt, and frowned at Barron.] And Comrade, I don't know how many times I have to tell you, this isn't a game! I was an inmate, and then I graduated and it was real!

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[Barron just shrugged, and gave Prefect a large grin.] I'm sure that it's completely and utterly real. To you.

[Memory working was a funny thing. No matter how bizarre the memory, people were so keen to believe it. As if everything in their heads wasn't up for grabs. But if he was here, he may as well get in on the game.] So how do I 'graduate', exactly?

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[Prefect sighed woefully.] Comrade, just try to bear in mind that if someone threatens to kill you, they probably aren't just struggling to remain in character?

[Finally coming to the door of the bar, Prefect stepped aside to let Barron through ahead of him once more.] You graduate by surrendering your life of crime and becoming a good person. It's usually not very easy, and the success ratio is really extremely low.

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Sure, sure. I'll make sure to keep that in mind. [Barron waved a hand nonchalantly. He doubted that any of the marks on the cruise would have the guts to try and kill him.]

[Barron walked through the door before turning to look back at Prefect, smiling.] That's the problem though. This 'life of crime'? It doesn't exist. Frankly, I'm an excellent person. You've just been tragically misinformed.

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[Prefect gave Barron a look of mild exasperation, before pulling a copy of his rolled up file from the inside pocket of his suit jacket.] Here.

[Handing it over, he headed to the bar and reached across it to snatch the nearest bottle from behind it. Tequila? Did he like tequila? Did it matter? Setting it on the bartop, he set about rooting over the counter for two glasses.] Comrade, I know that you're not going to believe me, but I've been here for about three years, and that isn't how it works.

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[Barron took the file and flicked through it. Even the few pages he glimpsed was enough for his heart to start pounding in his chest. Lila, Zacharov. Murders he remembered doing and murders that he didn't. He looked over to Prefect, who seemed to be very intent on preparing that tequila.]

I didn't do this. [Barron walked over to the bar and put the file down.] I don't know where this information comes from. But I swear to you that I haven't done any of these things.

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[Prefect poured out two glasses of tequila, and gave Barron a mild look.] Comrade, you did do those things, and you're dead, so it's not as if you can keep out of trouble by lying about it.

[He took a sip of his tequila, before gesturing to the file in his inmates hands.] Flick to the last page, it'll tell you how you died.

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I'm not lying. [Barron's tone was getting darker by the moment. He took one of glasses, and drank about half of it in one go before continuing.] I've been framed.

[Barron didn't elaborate on that rather dramatic statement, but did turn to the last page of the file. He started reading just how he'd been jumped by one of Zacharov's goons and just how he'd had his throat cut. He drank the rest of his tequila.]

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Comrade, [Prefect said, matter of factly] This is the afterlife, you can't have been framed.

[He polished off his own tequila, before reaching for the tequila and topping them both up.]

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[And here's Barron, downing that glass of tequila. This night is going to end well.]

No way. I'm not buying any afterlife business. Someone made the end of that up. [Barron said, pointing at the file.] I'm still here. So it's wrong.

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[Drunk your tequila already, Barron? Well I guess that means you need another one then! Prefect tops up the glass again obligingly.]

Well, yes, but Comrade, that's assuming that 'here' really is a... pretend... game... boat. But it's not, Comrade, it's the afterlife, so your being here actually means that it's more likely to be correct.

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[Barron's taking glass number three slowly. Because it's glass number three, and he's on a very strange boat.]

Yeah, but somehow I don't think me being dead is any more likely. [Sips at his drink.] How can you be sure? Where did you come from?

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[That's probably better for you. Prefect is still on glass two, but he feels a certain obligation to catch up with you, so away it goes, and he tops himself up as well.]

I don't know, Comrade. You have killed a lot of people, I don't think it's that unlikely for it to have happened to you. [He takes another, long drink of his tequila, before screwing up his face, and pondering the question.] I come from The Factory. It's like... Comrade, if you imagine the largest shopping center you can, and then imagine that it ruled over the entire world, and everyone's life was devoted entirely towards serving and maintaining it? That's what The Factory's like, and that's where I came from.

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I've never killed anyone. [This was, unusually for Barron, technically true. He'd never killed anyone with his own hands so much as orchestrated many, many murders. But hey, everyone has to make a living, right?]

I've never heard of any country like that. [Barron took another sip of his drink. Prefect had definitely been seriously worked.] So, do you know who runs this place? The boss-man who we should all be answering to?

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You arranged people's deaths.

[Prefect corrected himself, then gave a short nod, in response to the comment about the Factory.] I know you haven't, Comrade. No one here has. When I lived there, we were taught that there was nothing outside of the Factory, that it encompassed the entire world. Then I arrived here, and no one had any idea what I was talking about.

[Prefect took another swig of his Tequila, polishing off the glass he'd been drinking.] Technically The Admiral is in charge, but it's hard to say whether he's really paying that much attention, or whether what happens here is ever deliberate. There never seems to be much underlying reason to what he does.

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I didn't do that either. [Blatant lies.] I'm just a college student.

[Barron swirled his drink around in his glass, giving Prefect a slightly bemused look.] But if no one else knows about it, doesn't that make you wonder if it really happened?

[Whoops, time for change of subject! Barron doesn't want to give away his state memory secrets.] Uh huh. So we can just do whatever we want as long as it doesn't bother the captain?

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That's not what your file says. [And Prefect loves to believe things that are written down.]

When I first got here... [He was so horribly brainwashed that the idea that his MAGICAL FACTORY PARTY didn't exist was so impossible to conceive of that it didn't even cross his mind.] Well, my warden had a file of my life, just like I have one of yours. Besides, if my memories weren't correct, then I wouldn't have had a reason to be here.

[Prefect pauses at the question, then gives a slight nod.] Don't hurt anyone, don't steal anything, don't rewrite anyone's memories, and... try to resist the tempation to lie to people, if you can, Comrade. Other than that, you can do whatever you want. [He tips back his tequila, before moving automatically to fill his glass again. Why hadn't he known if he liked tequila or not? Of course he liked tequila!]

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My file is wrong. [Cue arm crossing, because Barron is sometimes mature like that. He's not about to buy this file of your life business. He didn't have memories for someone to take to make a file like that, so it was impossible that the file existed. End of story.] And I don't think it's appropriate that you say that you're my warden. The Admiral hasn't said anything like that.

[Except for that murder mystery dinner thing, right? Barron's choosing to ignore that! Especially considering that Prefect told him not to do what was basically a collection of Barron's favorite hobbies.] I don't do any of those things, so that shouldn't be a problem.

[Huh, Prefect seems to be drinking a lot. OH WELL, not Barron's problem.]

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[...]

[.....]

Is it possible that your file isn't wrong, but you don't remember all of it correctly? Because it says here... [Prefect reaches over and ruffles to the correct page] ...that sometimes that happens to you, Comrade. [Lifting his glass, Prefect took another swig of the Tequila.] And actually, he did say that. Yesterday, he made the announcement! That's why I have your file!

[Another point at the file, and Prefect tipped back his tequila again, finishing the glass.]

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That's ridiculous. [Barron looked at the file in disgust. Stupid, strangely accurate file.] I've never had something like that happen to me. I'd realize what it was if I did.

And maybe that announcement was wrong. [Barron was about to say more, but hey. Prefect was drinking that tequila and that was suddenly fascinating for a moment. Which was strange, to say the least.]

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It says you leave yourself notes, Comrade. [Prefect pointed out.] And write in notebooks. Like the one you think has been stolen from you. [He lowered the empty glass. It was possible that he was getting ever so slightly drunk, now. Prefect couldn't be sure, but he felt like the floor beneath him had just taken a very faint lurch.]

What do you mean, maybe the announcement was wrong? The Admiral can't be wrong about something that he chooses! That's like, me saying "Here, I would like to pour you another glass of tequila!" and you saying "No you wouldn't like to do that at all. You are wrong!"

[Prefect may have been rambling. He should pour them both fresh glasses of tequila.]

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I'm missing a manuscript. There's a difference. [He would have been angrier or possibly have even considering making Prefect change his mind, if he wasn't still distracted by Prefect himself. He liked Prefect. He sort of wanted to be Prefect's friend, which was strange, to say the least.]

He must have made a mistake of fact. [Barron finished off his glass. He'd probably had enough to drink.] He can't know everything. He's only human.

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So what's your manuscript about? [Prefect leaned across to re-fill Barron's glass. Pthh, enough to drink? As if such a thing existed.]

You mean... about your file? Or about me being your warden?

[Prefect asked. This argument was confusing, and he wasn't entirely sure that there was anything but time and experience that would change Barron's mind, but it seemed like too deliberate a state of negligence to just... not bother arguing his points at all. He gave a little snort of disbelief at The Admiral being called 'only human', Prefect wasn't sure he agreed with that estimation at all.]

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It's a thriller. It's also not written in English. [Barron put that in before Prefect got a chance to ask if he could read it. That had ended up in a mess with that other person.]

Both! [Barron was getting exasperated.] None of it is true. If anything, I should be a warden. Given that the file is wrong and I've done nothing like that in my life, I should be the one helping people.

[And taking their stuff. Barron also didn't particularly want another drink, but since Prefect had already filled it Barron took another sip. Mainly because he didn't want to look like a light weight in front of Prefect.]

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There's nothing in your file about you being bilingual...

[ADHERE TO THE FILE, BARRON! It's the only way Prefect can comprehend you as a person :c

Prefect sighed, and leaned across to flick a couple of more pages over in the file, before glancing back up at his new inmate.]

Well... Comrade, I'm sorry that I don't believe you, but... everyone who's come here before you did what their file said they did. Including people who were my friends, and including me. So... I think you might have as well.