If there was anything about Fortuna City that nearly everyone could agree on, it's that the City of Glass was irreducibly hot. Not even the height of summer, the mid-morning sun brought the heat in triple-digit degrees, causing micro-mirages across the godray-soaked cement platforms of Fortuna Port. The shadows that glided across the docks wore sandals and Crocs of varying kinds, a mish-mash of colors that would melt and stick to the ground were they to stay outside any longer. Many people, luggage in tow, were eager to ascend the steps of the HSS Panacea's loading platform.

"Credentials, please!" piped an excited concierge next to the stairs. The name tag pinned to his chest read 'Atlas', and the young man greeted each passenger with a firm salute and a wink. He was built for the sun, tanned and sunscreened skin absorbing the light and giving it a honeyed luster. As he checked the passports and verification IDs for each passenger, the line that building all the way back to the parking lot was starting to crawl forward.

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@Auragreedia

Tony, for all he could do, was near the back of the line, but was starting to see some movement. If he were to gauge how long it would take, it could be anywhere from another 30 minutes to an hour before he reached the front and had his credentials checked. As he waits, another man - one much older and wearing a gaudy sun hat - lets out an exhausted sigh.

"I got up at 4 A.M. for this shit. I shoulda just stayed my happy ass at home. At least I wouldn't be dry-roasting in the sun. Unbelievable. And what is the point of all the glass in this damn city? We don't need all those damn windows."

The old man turns in Tony's direction, but doesn't quite face him, instead crowing out to the open air.

"Open a fuckin' door once in a while, would you?!"

Someone further behind Tony responds.

^{"Shut up!"}

With a harrumph and cross of his arms, the old man's eyes dart over to look at Tony's face. "Can you believe the gall of these kids?" he asks expectantly.

Tony stands awkwardly in the line, hands in his short pockets as he aimlessly looks around. He's in a graphic t-shirt, a pair of sunglasses propped up on his head and not over his eyes--he thought it made him look cool. One hand is firmly on his luggage. He doesn't register the older man talking to him at first, too busy tuning out the news, but he's quick to make something up. "Oh, yeah. Probably the heat." He scans the old guy a bit, mainly staring at his sun hat before making eye contact again. "It'll probably get better on the ship, as long as it's not also made of glass."

He puts his sunglasses down, the sun beginning to agitate his eyes, and wipes some sweat from his brow. "Honestly, I'm just hoping the AC in there is good."

Thank god the line was starting to pick up, his legs were starting to ache.

The old man responds with a gruff "hmph" and reaches down to scratch the inside of his thigh. He seems quite overpacked for a simple two-week trip, a litany of suitcases flanking him on either side. How he got them there - and how he intends to get them up the stairs unaided - is anyone's guess.

Silence overtakes Tony's part of the line for a minute. Further up and also behind, groups of people engage in conversation about a number of topics.

<sup>"...I heard he was a former employee of the restaurant. Supposedly, the boss stiffed him on tips. Just goes to show tipping culture is toxic..."

"...need is one more win, and the Fortuna Knights head to the Super Bowl. Can you believe it, bro? Imagine what the view's gonna be like!"
"Yeah, but seats in the nosebleeds are so shit. If we want to enjoy ourselves, we need seats down near the field. I want to see..."

"...you hear about Lazaretto? Sounds like the guy really bit the curb in terms of his family. His own son doesn't even..."</sup>

"God, I can't wait to get on the ship. I need to get in a pool, under an umbrella, something. Christ, this sun."

The stairs were closer now, close enough that Tony could see the bright, pearly smile of the concierge standing next to it.

Tony takes a look at the old man's bags and wonders to himself, not about how he'd get it up the stairs; rather, he wonders if the old guy is someone important. Maybe someone acclaimed? Or just rich. He'd settle for that. He'd love to have money like that--dice collecting was a hobby of his and he was never against adding to his ever-expanding rulebook collection, even if it meant breaking the bank a bit.

"So..." he starts awkwardly, "what brought you here anyway?"

"Personally I'm just going on this cruise to relax, find some new people," and a new employer, he adds in his head, "just curious."

He figured talking about the bags so soon would be too weird.

He takes a brief listen to the indoor chatter--something about employees being stiffed on tips, sports talk he could never quite understand, and... Lazaretto had a fallout with his son? The mayor? That was curious. Tony wonders, for a brief moment, if the mayor's son was onboard. Perhaps this was some kind of apology? Some grand way of making amends? Or it was just another way to please the people. The thought passes and Tony breathes a sigh of relief as the stairs come closer into view.

He puts a hand in his pocket, ready to pull out his passport and ID at a moment's notice. Finally, he was one step closer to sitting down... and getting out of this godawful heat.

"I-"

"Hello and welcome to the Lazaretto congratulatory cruise - and the inaugural launch of the HSS Panacea! I'm Atlas, one of the many attendants you'll find on the cruise ship over your two week stay!"

Atlas is dressed in non-standard variation of a concierge's uniform - high-rising shorts, a sailor's shirt that bore his midriff, and a hat overflowing with ombre curls that fell to either side of his shining face. He flashed an overly white smile, causing the old man's brow to wrinkle. Whether he just got them cleaned or they happen to be veneers is anyone's guess. His stance suggests a coy playfulness that will only be exacerbated once he's aboard the ship and in the pool.

"Do you have your credentials ready for verification, sir?"

Without a word, the old man searches a pocket on the front of a gaudy suitcase that was nearly half his slowly diminishing height before brandishing his ID and passport for the concierge to examine.

"Okay, let's see... Oh! Cabo? Oh my gooood... I've been wanting to go there for a minute! I hear the Mai Tais at the Mango Deck are to die for! Well, looks like everything is in order! You'll be in Room 302 on the third floor. Don't worry, we'll have our staff escort you and help carry your things!"

Before the old man is able to respond, Atlas snaps his fingers, and several of the cruise ship staff descend upon him like flies from out of the blue, disappearing him up the steps and onto the ship proper. Tony watches this happen in real-time, and as he sees the old man scale the stairs in bewilderment, another figure catches his eye for a moment.

Standing on the deck of the ship and leaning over the side, a man wearing a hooded sweatshirt seems to be staring at him.

"Hello and welcome to the Lazaretto congratulatory cruise - and the inaugural launch of the HSS Panacea! I'm Atlas, one of the many attendants you'll find on the cruise ship over your two week stay!"

Atlas smiles wide, his face radiating as much enthusiasm as the sun does light.

Tony watches somewhat awe-struck and another part fearful as the old man is unceremoniously whisked away by cruise staff... and there went his questions for the old guy; gone with the wind. Maybe they'd meet again at the Mango Deck or something. He shrugs. He could use a drink or two anyway, may as well enjoy himself on the cruise even if he took it for 'networking' purposes. Regardless, he was certain service would be good during his two week stay, those workers were fast.

He gaze shifts and he makes brief eye contact with the hooded stranger. What the hell was that guy staring for? He wipes a bit of sweat off his brow as he turns his attention back to Atlas.

"Nice to meet you, Atlas. One second," Tony pulls out his credentials for verification and hands it to the concierge, "there."

Something about Atlas's enthusiasm was weird in Tony's eyes, though he didn't show it, and with his sunglasses on, he figured the man couldn't see him staring at his overly white smile. Overall, he seemed like a flashy guy--not something he'd expect for a standard cruise staff.

Then again, this cruise ship was anything but standard.

Tony glances back as his credentials are checked; was that stranger still staring him? Was he doing that to everyone in line? Was he even still there?

As Tony looks up to the deck of the ship, the man in the sweatshirt is no longer leaning against the railing; no longer there. It seemed a specter to the tabletop gaming store attendant—a trick of the light, even.

"Well, this all looks in order, hun! Little sparse, if you ask me. Not much of a traveler? That's quite alright!"

Atlas winks, as is custom.

"You'll be staying in room 415, on the fourth floor! Do you need help carrying your belongings onto the ship?"