cultor | Six o'clock in the morning

Six o'clock in the morning

Who: OTA Mingle! Please feel free to make your own TL!
What: Johnny serves breakfast and hosts a mahjong tournament.
When: May 29th, 9 am and onwards
Where: Devil's Nest
Warnings: Nothing specific for the toplevel

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The Devil's Nest isn't done up or given any signage to indicate breakfast being served. In fact, it just looks like your average, run-of-the-mill Friday morning, albeit being open a lot earlier than dive bars typically are, and smelling...not quite like a diner, on account of nothing deep-fried on the menu, but it comes damn close.

There are about five napkins scattered on the main bar's counter. Each one of them has a hand-written menu of the choices -- in an extremely legible, all-capitals handwriting. All made from the finest shelf-stable ingredients you can scavenge.

Bases:
Crepes
Grits
Hot Oats

Sweet toppings:
Blackberry
Cherry
Strawberry
Honey

Savory toppings:
Toasted nuts
Dried tomatoes
Chicken
Venison (Host-sourced)
Eggs (Host-sourced)

Coffee:
Black/Americano
Latte/Cappuccino
(Coconut or Soy Milk)

Concentrate juices:
Orange
Lemonade

Tea (Sweet/Unsweet)
Black
Green

Tell me if you have food sensitivities before ordering.
Don't ask for more than you can eat.
Return dishes to the main bar when finished with them.

Johnny is much better-rested than when he was during his appearance on the Murmur, bright-eyed and full of his usual electric energy. The top half of his hair has been pulled back into a bun to keep it out of his face, but otherwise he's just wearing an oversized graphic tee and grayscale tartan-print sarouel-style pants and plain black house slippers.

Johnny doesn't have even the smallest customer service bone in his body, so you'll have to proactively get his attention if you actually want something to eat, as he goes back and forth between the back kitchen and the main bar counter. If you don't have the courage to do take your chances with him, you should be able to flag down Sirius, who will provide a certainly much more warmer and friendly ordering experience.

It will be significantly less difficult to get his attention after noon, on account of posting himself up at one of two freshly pilfered-from-Chinatown mahjong tables he set up...and actually taking the chance to eat something for himself after a four-hour kitchen blitz, complete with a lowball glass full of tequila sunrise. While he may have said there was a cutoff for food, there's probably plenty left over that was made but not yet eaten (the grits probably were the least popular option); certainly enough to keep a game going without someone having to leave because they're starting to get hungry.

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— good morning.
////////////////////////////// OTA ///////

( Ko is pleasantly surprised to see Sirius around; he waves to both him and Johnny as he enters. This is honestly a much better set up than what he's been doing for himself food-wise, so he can't help the shiny eyes when he's looking over the menu. Notably, once he gets a sweet crepe and some coffee, he doesn't touch it for a good 10 minutes.

He eats like a bird in the corner, though any current acquaintances and especially Tethers or therapy patients will be waved over for a little bit. Just to see how they're faring.

Ko stays for a little while, but leaves and comes back about an hour later for Mahjong. He's not especially competitive, but he does know how to play; anyone he doesn't know, he'll offer to play a game together, teaching them if they're new. )

[As agreed upon, Ratio is here, medical bag in hand. The man clearly has no idea what to do with himself once separated from the rest of the Hotel group he arrived with. Wings rustling; tail flicking awkwardly with impatience every few seconds. Purple fluffy cat ears swivel around the unfamiliar room, taking in the sounds.

Anyone he is tethered with gets a warm acknowledging brush against their tether. Be good and do not cause trouble in someone else’s ~~territory~~ house. They are free to have fun, but Ratio is a man on a job.

After said job is completed, the Kimera lingers at the bar. Not drinking, but simply sitting to keep an eye on Caelus. Occasionally the red and gold eyes dart to glance at the other hotel members here.]

[Things have been, of course, very frustrating lately. That's just how it is around here. But helping to fix things makes Toki feel better. And now there's breakfast! He's got coffee and some oats with eggs and he's probably in the best mood he's been in a bit. He's happy to hang out and talk to anybody that wants to.]

I saw stuff going so far...

[Unfortunately for later, he does not remotely know how to play mahjong. Careful or he'll try to set it up like those solitaire matching games on the computer. That's how you play, right???]

[ Megumi looks tired as hell, which is about par for the course this month. He's clean and freshly showered, at least (before he heads into another day of picking up the pieces of what used to be his home here), though whether that's his own motivation or just Lortel scraping him off the ground and shepherding him into some self-care is anyone's guess.

But seeing some people with a little more energy is helping, kind of. He's not in such a funk that he can't recognize when he's starting to pull into the depression shell, so this is him trying.

Looking over the menu, though...hm. ]

I've never had a grit.

[Sometimes, there are miracles. Small ones, ignorable ones, but miracles nonetheless.]

[This happens to be one of them.]

[Because, while he could have gone upstairs and crawled through the window of the only apartment left standing on the top floor, where the Sin of the house ends up is splayed out. Splayed out and comfortably settled on the pool table tucked deep in the belly of it all.]

[The bar isn't huge by any means. It would be all-too easy to find him there, face-down, arm hanging dead off the lip of a corner pocket that barely has any netting left that would be worth its salt. But, considering how dark some of the side rooms actually are, maybe it would. Be easy. Not like the building doesn't have enough distractions as is.]

[Yet, that tail of his won't stop moving, flicking this way and that like a cat that's found the best sun spot to take its scheduled nap. And ah, is the jig entirely up.]

[Greed grunts when he hears a noise (a creature of habit, sleep is still something of a light pass-time) and with a tip of his head, he stretches; arms out in front of him, ass up, and his wings tentatively feeling themselves as they unravel, twitching with a tiredness he hasn't caught up with, yet.]

[The Sin rubs the back of his head with his hand.] Ngh. [It's the only sound he manages, and the backs of his boots scrape lazily off the table's matted, grass-green surface.]

Ah, sorry. Must have dozed off.

[No shit.]

Edited (shhh you saw nothing) 2026-05-25 18:34 (UTC)

[ Isn't a grit something you do with your teeth? ]

Me neither! [ How does he fit inside of a space meant for only so many people to sit...? Well... the answer to that is not comfortably! He's curled up tight as can be, legs on legs on legs, attempting to be out of the way.

But courtesy won't stop him from shifting around occasionally to bother certain people. ] Tell me how it tastes?

I've...been wondering, actually. Is human food just no longer satisfying for you, or do you actually have trouble eating it?

[ Because like, he doesn't mind offering a taste, but he has no idea if Ivan actually can still ingest what most of them eat or not, and if he can, whether it's actually pleasant enough to justify the action. ]

[The tide of energy changes when the Hotel residents show up as a unit. Not necessarily in a good or bad way, it's just a sudden large presence that wasn't there a second ago.

Johnny feeds all of them, as they request, and he figures out which is Ratio from context clues. Sorry, buddy, you'll have to wait until Johnny finishes his self-assigned job first. At noon, he disappears entirely for a few minutes, only appearing again when he sends a sharp whistle across the bar to briefly silence the crowd and get Ratio's attention, then invites him with a gesture into a deeper, quieter part of the bar, somewhere Greed can be in earshot.

The booth he brings Ratio to has a notebook and an insulated travel cooler, full of salted icewater keeping a large chunk of tech in cold stasis, on the table. Johnny sits down in one of the booths and gets right to it:]

I need this deep dive port installed.

[Johnny opens his notebook and flips through a few pages. A lot of it is (perceptively) unrelated. He stops on one particular page, in which Johnny has drawn diagrams, a midway point between his skills as an artist and purely informational, that illustrate the shape of the hole that needs to be carved out of his occipital bone, how the port fits around his currently installed implants, and the parts of the brain that the currently unexposed filaments on the deep dive port need to be inserted into.

It's not just some flight-of-fancy for recreational brain surgery. It's well-researched, the best he can recall from memory, and theory for the rest. He even has the formula for realskin, the process of taking his surgically removed skin to synthesize it, and instructions on how to install and allow it to heal, all without the conveniences he knows from home.

He pushes the notebook closer to Ratio.]

Take it. Read it at your own pace. I'll answer any of your questions.

Hell of a place for it.

[ Which...actually, Megumi wouldn't be inclined to call out if he weren't making attempts to be at least a little bit...sociable...ish, because he knows he's been retreating into himself lately and he also knows that once he's going on a depressive spiral, that's a hard pattern to break. So -- sociable.

Ish.

He's trying, okay. ]

Haha, well.

[ Megumi might be one of a few people who'd actually be interested in a quick human-arthropod-hybrid anatomy lesson, but Ivan decides he'll spare the rest of the room, especially while they're eating! ] Even if I didn't, the "human food" should go to the human-like people, shouldn't it?

It's very limited, right now.

[ Ivan is at least half an hour early.

He has his reasons. Entering a building occupied by others is no minor event when you take up this much space simply by existing. Additionally, if there's a no shirt, no shoes, no service policy, he'll unfortunately have to violate that as well. Every oil-sheened segment of his carapace is shamefully exposed to the early morning air as he approaches. It's not easy negotiating one's way around a city—a life—where nothing was made for you.

To try to appear more civilized, he folds five of his arms behind his back astutely, like a student at the head of a classroom about to address their peers. With the sixth, he knocks softly at the door and waits for whoever will answer.

...or perhaps another early bird? ]

Don't worry, I won't be staying long.

Edited 2026-05-26 21:07 (UTC)

I suppose...but I don't think one bite would be the different between starving and not, for anyone.

Especially if I'm the one offering.

[ He probably wouldn't even miss it. It's not at all unusual for him to decide he's done with a few bites left to spare, and Yuji to inhale the remainder like a human vacuum cleaner.

...he needs to not think about Yuji, before he makes himself sad again. He's out here trying to ward that mood off. ]

[ Ivan curls a finger against his chin, tapping it, contemplating why Megumi would single himself out like that. What has he noticed since he became a more permanent member of the Blue Note? ]

Ah, because... you haven't been finishing your meals anyway, you mean?

Edited 2026-05-27 01:51 (UTC)

If it's already cooked, then there's not much point in letting it go uneaten.

[ It's just a couple bites here and there, so he figures that changing the amount they make is more trouble than it's likely to be worth. And saving it seems like misplaced effort when it won't keep well anyway.

So...hey, why not. ]

[ Probably not an acceptable time to mention all the insects in the unseen nooks, chittering in hunger, who would assuredly love a bite... sorry, brethren! ]

No, I agree with you, Megumi, wasting is the worst thing we can do in our situation. But you should still tell me how it tastes, mm? It can be a test to see how much my tastebuds have changed.

[ Will he be ordering one grit then? ]

[It was difficult to tell what Sirius was wearing these days with how much his black shroud wrapped around him like a second skin. He still wanted to look nice for the breakfast though so he had his hair pulled back into a short ponytail. He knew the breakfast was just a casual get together but old habits die hard. He had never waited tables before but he had plenty of experience keeping guests entertained as a noble. The crowd today was far more enjoyable too and he found himself enjoying it, his polite smile softening into something more genuine as he relaxed.]

Would you like anything?

[Just please don't ask too many questions about the food. He was still clueless when it comes to cooking. Other then a cup of tea Sirius didn't get anything himself. He didn't need to eat as a wraith and he wanted everyone else to have enough.]

...

[As tempting as the Mahjong tables were Sirius resisted until he was sure no one needed help with anything else. Especially Johnny. He must be tired after all that cooking. Once he was free he quietly observed, his eyes avidly studying the tiles like he was reading a favorite book. Engrossed in learning a new game, he didn't notice someone approach until he felt the cold aura around him hungrily reach for the other's warmth. He looked up with a small hum.]

Do you know how to play?

[ Megumi usually works with larger animals than insects, but he wouldn't begrudge the bugs a little nibble, honestly. They deserve consideration too!

...but the rest of the room might not think so kindly, probably. ]

Let's find out, then. Hang on.

[ And he will be wandering over to the bar to order, and then return with, not just a grit, but several of them! With blackberry topping and toasted nuts, because it's not like he knows that this could be seen in some areas as some kind of blasphemy.

(But he still looks a little sheepish, because he has, however, been corrected on the correct usage of singular versus plural in the example of grits.) ]

[There is no immediate response. In fact, no one comes running at the door to answer the knock. In truth, it's already unlocked, so Johnny doesn't consider bother opening it and figures it's someone just announcing their arrival instead of barging in.

...but they never let themselves in.

The longer it goes on, the louder the voice in the back of Johnny's head protests about how weird it is, until he's finally compelled to leave the kitchen and open the door out of curiosity.

Johnny stares up at him. And you might think it's for obvious reasons. But in reality--]

It's a bar, Ivan. You let yourself in.

[That being said, though, there's kind of an obvious need for the door to be held open for him, so Johnny side-steps and holds it wide open for all of Ivan to get inside without having to solve that logistics puzzle.]

[ Fear has a specific scent, he's found out, that seeps from a human being's soft skin pores; it's a horrible thing to know, in retrospect, looking back upon his life.

Johnny just smells like a hot pan.

Could he be from a world with Segyein or Segyein-like beings? Ivan stopped asking himself that question about newcomers when it became clear that so many of them were straining themselves quite hard to act natural around him. Perhaps... it's time again? ]

Haha, I know, but it would ease my mind if it was with your permission.

[ It's the fact that the door is being held for him, now, that spurs him to move from his spot at all. He scurries through the threshold, the curvature of his carapace just barely clearing either side. Throughout, his posture remains tucked in, as though this were a museum where he must not touch anything.

Beyond a hello, he hadn't been sure what to expect. ]

Edited 2026-05-27 20:16 (UTC)

[Johnny closes the door once Ivan's caudal legs clear the threshold. From the ceiling, there's an audible flap of wings, and only a second later, a Host-infected toucan perches on Johnny's flesh shoulder and starts to pick at his hair bun with the tip of his beak. Johnny stands there, acting like none of this is actually happening, arms akimbo at Ivan.]

Can't imagine what more permission you could need than an open invitation for free breakfast. On top of our open-door policy, too.

[He steps aside.]

But since you're so early, relax and make yourself at home. You're not gonna trash it any more than Greed already does, and he owns the fuckin' place.

[There is a hum of approval at the notes and their detail. Red and gold ringed eyes flick back-and-forth as he goes through the notebook fast, but clearly taking every single detail. Ears, tail, and wings rise and fall in accordance with Ratio’s concern.

He wonders where Johnny got something so clearly high tech. But that is a question for after the job is done. Quite the shocking job too. Brain surgery in the apocalypse… it’s insane.

But no one would be suicidal enough to ask for such a thing if not needed. Medically necessary… whatever issue this man has must be of the neurological variety.]

Are you comfortable with being awake during the surgery? Given the recent events, lack of machine, and areas of the brain these wires reach-

[Ratio flips the notebook to one of the earlier pages and taps the illustration of the Occipital Lobe reaching wires specifically. ]

I believe an awake suboccipital craniotomy with area numbing from ropivacaine is, ironically, safest for your survival.

[No machine, no wires beyond what is being inserted into the man’s brain, and a dozen other high technology requirements. Just area numbing and a cooperative patient.

He closes the notebook and sets it back down. Ratio extracts and places the box containing the bottle of said anesthetic on the table. It was quite a search, but raiding hospitals to ensure patient safety is worth the effort. Johnny is free to examine the labeling on it.]

Of the three anesthetic options, ropivacaine will have you regain movement fastest and provide the safest margin of error in our circumstances.

[Levobupivacaine inhibits movement longer and bupivacaine is too risky without a machine. Both could go sideways fast if another eruption happens in the middle of this nonsense. Still, Ratio did bring them in case Johnny has issues with the chosen anesthetic.

Though now that he is thinking about it, he should clarify.]

To be clear, I am not proposing you feel pain. As the brain lacks pain receptors, I will simply be making numbing injections here, here, here-

[The scholar picks the notebook back up and flips through the illustrations, tapping at the injections areas along the back of the scalp.]

-and here. The extent of cooperation I need from you is simply to stay still, calm, notify me of any abnormalities in your senses, and occasionally answer basic questions to demonstrate your facilities are still intact.

[The felinesque eyes flick up from the notebook.]

Is that acceptable?

[Johnny is patient while Ratio reads through his notes. No, really, he's being very patient right now. The bouncing knee under the table might make one think otherwise, but it's just how his internal engine idles.

He's not suicidal, he just knows what he's about and what exactly he's willing to put up in exchange.]

Being awake is standard procedure where I'm from.

[Johnny picks up the box of ropivacaine and holds top and bottom pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Truthfully, he doesn't know the nuances between all of the different -caines, because...]

Difference is, we had far more advanced anesthetics. Numbed the whole body in seconds, persisted until given the deactivation agent.

[He gingerly puts it back down to look up at Ratio, nodding once when he asks if everything is acceptable.]

Was already ready to make a fuckload of concessions to make this happen.

[So being calm, still, and communicative are easy compromises, when he thought he'd have to do it blind with his own hands not that long ago, and apparently the wrong anesthetic. Oh well, not like he has to worry about that now.]

Anything else we need?

[Heavily, almost boneless(ly), the former homunculus rocks his head. It sways on the palm of his hand; the turn of it, churning out crunches and cracks that speak to how comfortable it's been sleeping on top of a table better suited for an 8-ball corner shot.]

Mnn. Yeah, didn't have a lot of options. [He doesn't have a bed, after all. And the couch tucked up in his apartment often leaves much more to be desired. Never mind, his new, added bonus of horns and wings. The pool rug, at the very least, has enough space to accommodate.]

[Greed drops his chin, and the end of his tail twitches; the last tremors of his stretch, leaving on a shiver of rings and gems.] You - ah, shit, Megumi, right? Sorry. [He shoves his pinkie into his ear, wiggling it.] Gunna guess you're here for Silver's breakfast, yeah? Would have invited you earlier, but things being as they are -

[He trails off, grabbing his vest with a swipe of his claws.] Don't think I have to ask, but how are you and yours holding up? [He starts as he takes the lead towards the kitchen.]

[ This isn't the first time Sharon has found Greed like this, and she doubts it'll be the last. She's only stopping by long enough to refuel before throwing herself back into the search for One, so when she spots him stretched out, she immediately hops up onto the edge of the pool table, invading his space. ]

You really can't be comfortable sleeping like that. [ Her smile carries the scent of ash and smoke and old burned things, touched by memories of ruined places. A fine layer of gray dust still clings to her skin. She hasn't been back to the Nest in nearly four days. A bowl of oatmeal rests between her palms, still mostly untouched. ] Feels like we ought to get you a decent futon or something iff you're gonna keep sleeping down here like some stray bar cat.

[ Sharon sidled up to the counter and slipped onto one of the stools. She looked half-haunted. A fine coating of ash clung to her clothes and skin, evidence of days spent wandering through One's haunts. The only part of her that looked clean was her hands, pink from recent scrubbing. ]

Yeah, the oats and some black tea. Nothing in either. [ She settled her elbows lightly against the counter, easy-going despite the exhaustion. ] How's the new job treating you? Boss not giving you any shit, is he?

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Six o'clock in the morning

ko tenjin | handead anthem.

Dr. Veritas Ratio | Honkai Star Rail

Toki Wartooth | Metalocalypse | ota

megumi fushiguro | jujutsu kaisen

Greed | Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood | OTA

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ivan — alien stage

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Sirius Uhr | Original | ota

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