Who: Cath and Mae
Where: Their room
When: Very late evening
Rating: NSFW (are these two ever when they're alone?)

Cath shut the door behind him heavily, locking it but not setting up their jury rigged bar. There was no point. He really didn't care if the bastard got him anymore. None of it seemed to matter all the much. Not the notes, not the bloody ship, not getting out of the mess. None of it.

It'd been well over a day and no sign of Mae. Or Alexander. But his thoughts weren't with Leto or her family, as selfish as it was. He was thinking about Mae. He couldn't help it. Mae was his life. Especially now, she was all he had.

And now she was gone. God bloody damn it. He shrugged out of his jacket, then started stripping off weapons. He'd turned off his walkie-talkie, he didn't want to deal with other people's problems right now. He was finally taking the moments he needed.

Grabbing the half drunk bottle of whiskey he'd brought in with him, he downed a good swallow. This wasn't enough to get him drunk, but he needed his wits a bit for what he had planned. Or at least, a steady hand. This was one mission he had no intention of cocking up.

Turning towards the mirror where he'd found the note scrawled this morning, he saw a different one tonight. What the bloody hell?

It was on bright yellow construction paper with red hearts decorating it and golden glitter chaotically slapped on. It indicated that Cathair was supposed to turn to a particular walkie talkie channel - one that was very unused at the moment - and listen.

And it was signed Queen Mab.

Cath's blood ran cold for a minute. This fucking ship was torturing him now or he'd gone utterly mad. Taking another long drink, he stared at the note for a long while, disbelieving. He hated this ship. Another long pull of whiskey, just staring at it. It was Mae's handwriting and it was the sort of childish note she would leave him. She was still very much a little girl, his Mae.

Finally, he reached over to where his walkie-talkie was and turned it on, switching to the channel the note instructed. He didn't expect anything, really. No one who'd ever disappeared on this hellish bloody cruise had ever come back.

But maybe he hadn't completely run out of hope.

Who: Cath, Leto, Open to security
Where: Homer's Study
When: Mid-morning

Cath wasn't drinking. He hadn't gotten to that point yet. He wanted to take his knife to the walls of the ship for the note. And for taking Leto's brother and Mae. Saints, he couldn't think about that. Not and keep his head. It was hard enough to drink coffee without thinking about it. Tea wouldn't be any better. He couldn't stand to be in their room, because she was all over it. Sleep was out of the question.

If she were gone-

No, he'd deal with that after this was dealt with. She could still be hiding. But then, Alexander wasn't the type to hide, his sister said.

Fuck, he was living his worst nightmare. He tried to order his thoughts properly. No breaking down, no going mad. Keep it together until this task was finished. Then, he could do what he needed to when he was alone.

Who: Cath, Mae, Sean, Ronnie and Peter
When: Morning
Where: Chapel

Cathair really, really could use a drink right now. Perhaps a whole bottle of Connemara, although really, he needed his wits right now. So sober it was. He paced back and forth a bit, his rosary wrapped tightly around his right hand. He'd already prayed for strength and for the souls of the people on this ship and the ones who'd disappeared. The restoration and restocking of everything material had given him pause about doing this, but in the end he knew, there was never going to be a good time for this.

Who: Cath and Mae
Where: Their room
When: Late night

The priest's blessing was helping his resolve to do this a great deal. Actually, it wasn't the confession tomorrow that was making him balk. It was the row tonight with his wife that was making him hesitate. He loved Mae more than anything in the world, and while he was blind to a lot of her flaws, he was well aware of her temper, especially when she was frightened. And what he was asking her to do might possibly frighten her more than the night he'd proposed. He was just hoping when the screaming and violence subsided, she would see reason and trust him.

That's all he ever really asked of her. Her trust. He'd never lead her astray, never again. But he knew once they saw her fight in a real battle, they would know. Mae possessed combat skills that no girl her age should. Not that hadn't been in the military. It wasn't rocket science, especially coupled with his own abilities and knowledges. It was only a matter of time.

And he'd rather face the lion in it's den on his terms, than have it spring upon him at the most inopportune moment. As for facing lions in their den, well, it was time.

He stepped into the room, setting up the barricade he'd fashioned when they first learned of the disappearances. It was a simple affair, but effective. He gave Mae a quiet greeting, clearly his mind was elsewhere. Then he shrugged out of his jacket and started stripping off weapons. Blind him, he was tired.

First the 9mm clipped to his belt, then unbuttoning his shirt and removing the Glock hidden under his left shoulder and the knife under his right. They joined the gun on the nightstand. He sat down and took off his boots, then unfastened the calf holster that held his other Glock. Laying it with the rest of his weapons, he raked his fingers through his hair, then looked at his wife.

<"We need to talk, sweetheart,"> he told her, switching to Gaelic as they always did when they were alone.

Who: Cath and Peter
Where: Chapel
When: Late Evening

Cathair had been meaning to see Father Fitzpatrick the day before, but things had been busy and insane. They were still busy and insane, but with the security schedule finally sorted, now was a good a time as ever. He'd told Mae he was having confession, so she'd know where he was. He didn't like having to be accountable all the time for everyone, but it had to be done.

This visit to the ship's priest was likely the only thing he'd done for himself today. Even his workout had been to get back into combat ready. This, this was for his soul. Which really needed tending more than he did.

He stepped into the chapel, dipping his fingers into the bowl and crossing himself. He took a few steps forward before genuflecting before the cross. Even if he wasn't actually here for confession, he wasn't about to shirk his respect. This was a place of God, after all.

Then he rose and looked around for the priest. "Father Fitzpatrick?" he called. Hopefully, he hadn't already retired for the evening.

Who: Cath and open
Where: Fitness Center
When: Just after sunset

Cath had just finished up his sort of half shift with Mae and had headed up to Arete deck. He needed to work off some of the tension and honestly, get himself back to battle ready. He did the basics early every morning until everything'd gone pear shaped, but no actual training that would give him away.

Now he found himself caring less about hiding and more about survival. And honestly, he needed to work off some of the tension. This waiting for something to blow up in their faces was going to kill him otherwise.

He was dressed simply, in a black sleeveless tee shirt that once had some sort of logo on it but had long faded from washings into a blurb of whitish dots, a pair of gray plaid sweatpants, with the boots he usually wore. The sweatpants were new, his favourite pair had disappeared shortly after they'd come onto the ship before it'd set sail. It could have been a warning of what was to come, but more likely, his wife had just decided to be rid of them. Mae hated them, and they'd gone around about them a few times.

His hands were wrapped with athletic tape, since he was planning to give the heavy bag a good beating and didn't need to do the same to his hands in the process. The two bruises Mae had put on his face were healing nicely, which meant they itched like bloody hell.

Cath's fighting style was no nonsense. A good basis in boxing, with grappling and throws incorporated for good measure. No fancy kicks or jumping about, just powerful, precise blows. Blind him, it really did feel good to beat the shite out of something, even if it was just a sandbag.

Who: Cath, Mae, Ronnie, Emily, Noah, Maddie, Matt, Kevin, Seth (and some token redshirts)
Where: Security Office
Where: Noonish

It'd taken two trips to get all the plans, notes, and whatnot up to the security office. From now on, they were doing this in the library. There was more room there and reference materials readily at hand. Except the B encyclopedia, which he'd still not located. It would have been useful as well, but they'd make due.

Cathair sipped his whiskey laced coffee, looking over his notes and the plans. Riffraff had been incredibly helpful and useful and he was right glad she was on top of the security bit. They needed to move everyone willing to A and B decks as soon as possible. But that was Sean's job. For now, they were organizing, setting up patrols and getting everyone on the same page.

He could feel that familiar tightening in his shoulders and back. That tension from being wound up before a battle. Problem being, this wasn't the same thing and there was no real battle. Just waiting. It was going to be horrible.

Now he just had to wait for everyone to arrive.

Who: Cath, Res, and Keane
When: After the ship-wide meeting
Where: Homer's Study

Cathair had managed to get Maeve to let him out of her sight long enough to meet with Res and Keane alone about the guns she'd taken. He'd promised to be in the library, so that he was easily located and well, it was his territory. Tactically, it was better than meeting them alone on neutral ground.

This was going to be tough. As easy as it'd been to win respect and trust of others, Res looked like a tougher nut to crack. He couldn't blame her. His cover had been designed to make him as uninteresting and unnoticeable as possible. And likely worked a bit too well, since now he was having to prove he wasn't just a bookworm.

( She had them by the balls with the guns and he knew it. )

Who: Cath, Mae, Sean, Leto, Jerome and Levon
Where: Homer's Study
When: Before sunset meeting

Cath opened up the deck plans and laid them out on one of the large tables. He'd been looking over them awhile, and they were covered with notes and questions and planned routes in his neat, organized script. He was anything if through when given a task, especially one this important.

The code book was laying on the table next to him, the master pass key was tucked away for now. Neither were leaving his sight until it was decided what to do with them. He'd spent sometime committing some of the more important codes to memory, just in case.

Hopefully, this meeting would go loads better than the last one. Not that anything really was to be decided at this one. It was more sharing of information. And they were in the bloody library, which Cath considered his domain. Anyone behaved badly and he'd throw them out.

Not that he expected any trouble. Leto was a level headed one, like her dad. Flynn was an FBI agent, and very professional. As for Mae, she would behave because she knew this was important and wanted to be involved. Taking off his reading glasses, he dropped them by one of the maps and picked up his coffee cup. Mae, bless her soul, had made coffee and tea. They were likely going to need it.

Who: Cath and Mae
When: Early afternoon
Where: On Arete deck, then Veil of Nyx
Moar: Not safe for work.

( Long day at the office. )

Who: Cath, Closed
Where: Main Deck
When: Morning

Cath had seen more people being reported as missing on the journal thing. He'd noticed that everything in their room, the library and well, everywhere on the ship had been restored. And security seemed to be non-existent. No word from the crew at all.

It was time to do some snooping about.

( Those bits belong on the inside of a body.. )

Who: Cath and Jerome (and Levon)
When: mid-afternoon
Where: the chapel

Jerome loved his daughter dearly, and he was extremely proud of her for what she was doing. But he knew now that she had been trying to hide something from him. Levon had told him perhaps not everything, but enough. Jerome knew why his daughter would try to keep it from him. He didn't like it, but he understood. And he was going to do all that he could to help.

Jerome had taken the lad's hand and headed out into the hall. He told Levon to lead the way. Go anywhere he wanted, try to find a place where his visitors did not bother him so much. Levon had seemed to understand what he meant, and with a quiet nod, they were off.

They went slow. Jerome was still feeling very below par, and relying heavily on his cane. Levon had wanted to take the stairs, and Jerome refused to tell him no. So they went very, very slow. Imagine his surprise when an hour after leaving his room, Levon stopped in the doorway of the chapel. Jerome paused with him, and followed his grandson's line of sight. "What do you see, Levon?"

Levon stared a few minutes longer, and Jerome did not rush him. Eventually, Levon tugged on his hand and entered the chapel. "They're not in here." Levon said, blue eyes big with curiosity. "It's quiet." He smiled and lead the way to a pew. Jerome's knees sang with relief as they sat down. Not what you used to be, old boy.

Jerome smiled as he watched his grandson look around. "We shall stay here a while then."

Who: Cath, Peter
Where: Chapel
When: Mid evening (8pm-ish)

Cath's purpose in the chapel was twofold. One, he hadn't heard nor seen hide nor hair of the priest, and was a bit concerned. The last thing they needed was the man of God disappearing. That'd cause a huge panic, especially amongst the more religious and superstitious onboard. And Cath liked the man, they obviously shared many common interests. He couldn't discuss religion or history with Mae. Neither of them held her interest for long unfortunately.

( Forgive me Father, for I have sinned... )

Who: Cathair, Ronnie
Where: Cult of Dionysus
When: Early evening

The dimness of the club was a welcome relief to Cath's exhausted eyes. All day, he'd been holed up in the bloody library, reading. He hadn't done that since university, even when preparing for a mission. And reading a bunch of blarney, as far as he was concerned. It wasn't that Cath didn't completely disbelieve in the supernatural. He was quite certain there was a God and a Devil, angels and demons, and ghosts. But some much of what he'd read was romanticized nonsense written to be entertaining, not informative.

( Beer, beer, beer, tiddly beer! )

Who: Cath, Open
When: Noonish
Where: Homer's Study

Cath was pacing in front of his desk in the library. Mostly from too much bloody coffee. Mae was worrying him, so he'd been to the coffee shop at least five times this morning for 'more coffee'. Of course, he'd been checking on her, really. She knew that, he knew that, but he had to at least put on the show for everyone else.

( Ghosts of the Past )