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#7

Passengers: Travis and the Foam Wife (allegedly)
Location: The Laundry Room
Date: March 3rd
Summary: Travis experiences a miracle.
Warnings: It might get weird.

Travis has spent the bulk of his adult life living in a motel for a variety of reasons. The most obvious is, of course, that he has been historically unable to get a background check or employment record or proof of income, and that scraping together enough for a first and last has generally been a bit lofty. Have you seen the rental prices in California, man? Motels don't ask questions, and though they don't have proper kitchens or storage, at least they have basic room service. Travis has changed his own sheets maybe a dozen times in the last ten years, and that's just fucking great. He has never touched a vacuum, never washed a window, and only scrubbed a toilet after he's puked in it or gotten a little crazy at Tag Team Taco Twins, and even then... not every time.

What he has done, every single week since he was a teenager, is his own laundry. It's not entirely miserable. He can sit there with a manga or a handheld console and while away an hour or two. He can people watch. And hell, weird shit goes down at laundromats. Who doesn't like some free entertainment?

Turns out it's no different in space. While his foam wife takes a "nap" in his bunk, he sits in the laundry room, idly scrolling through his communicator, waiting for his wash to finish, and for Claire's dryer to unlock.

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Loki would like to claim this was a completely spontaneous idea born of happening to see Travis without his new accessory, but truthfully the idea had occurred the instant he showed it off on network. He's not entirely certain Travis was being truthful about his relationship with the real woman, of course, but that doesn't change the fact that the foam version was christened his wife. And if that's who he's going to be, well...

Between the scant details on the network and the foam approximation of her appearance, he should have enough to go on to get a rise out of Travis, at least, which is honestly the real point. He can't have all the fun. And also there's probably some lesson in here about taking things seriously, but Loki's too excited by the first part to think too hard on it, frankly.

With a shimmer of seidr, Sylvia marches right over to Travis, heels clicking aggressively over the floor of the laundry room. With an accent that's almost correct, she hisses, "I suppose you thought that was funny? Embarrassing me in front of the whole ship. I come all this way and you make a joke of me. Typical."

She crosses her arms across her chest, popping one hip. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Travis is so startled he has to put a hand on the wall so he doesn't land on his ass, but his shock settles into something serious real fast. He jams his communicator in his pocket and moves to meet her halfway, his gaze lingering just an instant longer than necessary on her cleavage before dragging up to her face. Her beautiful, angelic, pissed-the-fuck-off face.

"This is the hello I get, you giving me a hard time?" Travis replies. He can't not bristle. Their push-and-pull is too good; falling right into it feels like scratching an itch he's been reaching at for months but couldn't quite get to. "You can't tell me you don't like the attention. You know how many people are asking about you?"

"Asking about how you'll use me. And in that sad little bunk bed," she huffs, "You better get a real warden soon so we at least get a real room. It stinks in there with all those people."

A good start so far, but he can push it further.

"And I think some of them are getting ideas. You shouldn't leave me alone in there. Those lonely prisoners will tear me apart, and then what would you have?"

She steps closer, glaring down at him.

"A divorce."

Oh, Sylvia. Travis shifts into her space. He doesn't touch her, not yet –– for the moment it's enough to sink into being in the same space as her. Even after being away for so long, even with how tense and shitty it's been in cycles, being close to her makes him feel like his blood is on fire. It's enough to just breathe her air for that first minute.

"Whoa whoa whoa," he says, and though his voice is gravely serious, he radiates cockiness. "They're idiots, but none of them are going to hurt you. Especially now that you're here for real. No one's going to lay a finger on you."

The corner of his mouth twists up.

"Other than me, anyway."

Hmm. He doesn't get the impression Travis has seen through him. So it does seem he had a relationship with this woman. Or he's just incredibly deluded, which doesn't seem impossible.

Sylvia shoves a hand into Travis' chest, but doesn't push him away. Yet.

"And what have you done to deserve that? Getting sent to prison?" She clicks her tongue. "And getting into all these stupid fights. As if you can't control yourself. Childish."

Travis takes her wrist, firm but without malice, and he leans right in. Go on, push him. Dare you to.

“Look who’s jealous!” he replies. “You only like it when I fight your fights, huh?”

Interesting. Although Loki supposes she'd have to be at least tolerant of his violent side or they wouldn't have managed marriage.

"I like it when your fights aren't pointless," she fires back, "And what was your plan on that planet? Go die in the woods somewhere?"

She digs her nails into his chest before yanking her hand back. "You embarrass me."

There's a little surprised tic, a pull of his head back, eyebrows furrowing. The planet? All pretense of flirting vanishes, and he lets her have her hand back. His voice drops.

"Who told you about the ATV shit?" he asks. "Have you been sneaking around here the whole fucking time?"

Shit. He didn't think that through. But this is an easy enough fix.

Sylvia rolls her eyes. "Don't be stupid. I've been listening." She leans in for a menacing whisper: "I'm always listening, Travis."

He leans back, like this might actually be menacing.

"Bullshit," he hisses back. "You've got someone here in your pocket, which means you told other people you were here before me. That's fucked up."

"And what a surprise, that I would want to avoid you!" She huffs, crosses her arms. "You're lucky I'm speaking to you at all, after that stupid video. Literally objectifying me. I ought to go find someone who'd treat me with respect."

Sylvia taps a finger to her lips. "You know, I think that Rhys guy might be just eager enough to impress people he'd do whatever I asked."

Travis opens his mouth to be pissed –– there's so much to be pissed about there –– but it occurs to him that this is weird. She's weird. She's being fucking weird.

"What the fuck are you talking about, objectifying?" Travis asks. Have you seen your own outfits, woman? "And Rhys? Are you feeling okay, Sylvia? Bonk your head on the transport ship? Because I know you wouldn't look twice at that idiot."

And there's the turning point. Should he keep pushing it or disappear into the ether? Although that would likely leave Travis wondering if he's going mad. Best not go that far.

...Just a bit more, though.

"Maybe I would, if it would get a rise out of you. Which it clearly is." Sylvia smirks and, well, frankly it looks a little out of place on her face. "With all you've put him through, he's earned a little comfort, don't you think?"

It does look unsettling. It kind of freaks him out, actually, though maybe that's in part the idea that she's going to step out on him with fucking Rhys.

"I'm not kidding around, baby," he warns her, and it's his turn to inch forward. "Cut this shit out."

Ohhh, fine. Loki holds a hand up, and in a flash of green-gold light, it's his own, the rest of him resolving soon after. With a little flourish of his hands, he grins back at Travis.

"Ta-da!" He drops his hands, shrugging a little. "Someone had to speak up for her, right?"

Yeah, that's what's going on. Sure.

Travis makes no effort to hide how startled he is, jumping a full foot back. A myriad of expressions slide over his face –– shock, anger, denial, awe. When it settles, he's annoyed. Maybe not at the prank, because even he has to admit it had him going, but for Sylvia.

"Hey, asshole! What makes you think I can't speak up for my own wife?"

Loki rolls his eyes. "Were you speaking up for her when you made her into a doll? I just wanted to remind you there's a real thing out there."

Which he's more inclined to believe there is, given Travis' reaction. He'd been prepared to find out the whole thing was made up.

"You seemed rather happy to see her. I didn't expect to be quite so convincing, having never met her myself."

The ship is full of little things, the sway of the hem of Claire's skirt around her legs, the way his chin lines up with the top of Alice's head when he steps around her in the dorm doorway. The little flex of Jack's abs when she sits up straighter. The world is full of women who aren't his wife. He hardly needs a reminder, but he doesn't say that.

He says, in perhaps an entirely different unnecessary show of self-defence:

"Why wouldn't I be happy to see my wife?"

Loki raises an eyebrow. "If she wasn't real, for starters. At least we've somewhat confirmed that, hm?"

He leans back against the nearest machine, crossing his arms. "Not that it'd be terribly convincing for anyone else, now that you know. Though I would like to see some of their faces." He grins, laughing to himself. "Norns, some of them would probably wonder if the foam model came to life. At least for a moment. You never know around here, right?"

It stings to have this many people in a matter of days be surprised that he could bag a babe like Sylvia, but hey, they don't know her either.

Still, he raises a brow at Loki.

"Might be a pretty cool surprise," he says, thoughtfully. "Rub it in people's faces."

Rub it in people's faces? He's not a fan of that necessarily, but...

"It would be fun to spend some time in someone else's skin for a while." He cocks his head to the side, thoughtful. "Assuming you won't be bothered by it."

Or...weird about it.

The more he thinks about it, the easier it is to envision this being fun instead of a dig at his pride. Yeah, he thinks, everyone can see him with a babe on his arm. It won't be far from the truth, either.

"Are you kidding? I could look at her for weeks and not get tired," he replies. "Let's do this thing. I'll help you make it real convincing."

This is silly. A complete waste of time, and likely not going to help Travis in the least. If the goal was to remind Travis to treat people more considerately, Travis saying he was looking forward to staring at him was probably a step in the wrong direction.

But...it is the sort of thing he and Betelgeuse would have gotten up to. And bonding with wardens had done him some good, he thinks. Not to mention he could use a laugh. A distraction. Perhaps Travis could too.

Alright. What's the worst that could happen?

Well, one thing, actually. Loki thrusts a finger into Travis' face, expression stern. "Fine. But I am not sleeping with you. Understood? This is just a joke."

With a finger in his face like that, he's not sure he'll have to give Loki much instruction, anyway.

"Do I seem like the kind of guy who's gonna cheat on his wife?" he replies. Actually, given how many people have reacted with skepticism to Sylvia's existence in his life, maybe he shouldn't ask stupid questions.

But here they go, anyway. Travis opens the nearest dryer, thrusting a hand in and producing a few articles of clothing: a white blouse, a skirt of some sort.

Loki stares. "When you put it like that, I do wonder. Given you're saying I should look just like her."

But before they can delve into that psycho-social minefield, he's being handed a bunch of clothes. "Where did you--" He cuts himself off. The doll. He got clothes for the doll. He rolls his eyes. "I'm sure I can conjure something long enough for a video."

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#7

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i have no idea what i'm doing with pronouns btw let me know if something gets confused lmao

alllll good!

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