[Private to self]
It's quite a shock, coming from a job where if you didn't spend all your time doing, you spent all your time thinking about doing to this. Even if I were to somehow unseat the Admiral, I doubt even gliding against whatever forces this barge is subject to would be terribly diverting.
Certainly, speaking with these people: who are perfectly interesting, some of them, and even of the uninteresting at least there are a few who are somewhat amusing, isn't enough. And the 'events' so far are diverting, to be certain, but only when they're occurring. Then there is the moping about it, which isn't nearly as fun. [he smiles.] Especially when everyone is dead!
But, patience. I do have it, you know. And a purpose. Redress one's sins perhaps. Be a good boy for now, get to be liked, if not admired. Be a comforting, relaxed presence. I've been in tougher situations. And Elisabeth may well return in another flood. Now, I know that's possible, even if she doesn't end up here.
[He wishes she would end up here, though.]
And slowly but surely we get back on our feet. The survivors of death, the survivors of the uncontrolled wounds that were not about them, enduring despite it all.
In this vein, rather than simply reducing ourselves to hard words or even harder blows and skulking back into our respective corners, we should have a gathering. Much along the lines that Iris was speaking of, we could all go to the deck and mourn the lives we had in that breach, or the ones that came before. Watch the stars go by. Bring our own drinks and remind ourselves that we're all outcasts from one reality or another.
In the vein of Isaac Asimov, whatever the tortures of hell, I think the boredom of heaven would be a hell of a lot worse.