"I'll bother whoever's in charge," Dorian says, with a little nod. That also means finding out who's in charge of the Greenhouse which would be...annoying, but also needed. He's fine bothering people.
"Because you're right. I think people would be fine sacrificing a little patch that could grow food in exchange for not having to deal with the entire Barge hitting withdrawal all at the same time."
He inhales pure air deeply before shifting his head in clarification.
"'less ya got some way ta magically speed up the process, it's still gonna take ya 'bout four months from seed ta cigarette. Three if yer lucky." Growing shit takes time. Sometimes that isn't convenient.
"I mean, we've got...what, fucking wizards and vampires and things like that on board. I'm sure someone somewhere has plant magic or something like that."
Dorian's expression says that he knows 'plant magic' is stupid as hell, but how else is he going to describe it? It's plant magic. That's it.
Sweeney would never assume it wouldn't be available, just that it shouldn't be counted on. Not that he thinks Dorian would do that necessarily. Just getting things out in the open before any issues arise.
He nods once in acknowledgment. "I'll keep an eye out fer seeds in port. I know there's a bunch'a types in the greenhouse, but I f'gure that may not'ta made the cut." Being that tobacco is a pure indulgence (and something that's apparently regulated for some Inmates). Course, so are fucking flowers, and they have plenty of those.
"I'll keep an eye out as well," he nods. Though note to self: find out what the hell tobacco seeds look like.
"I'll also keep an eye out for canning supplies, preservatives, things like that. We're going to need a shit ton of salt, I can tell that much already." Hmm, what else will they need...more booze, definitely, and Dorian takes another drink of his gin.
"I'm lookin' ta go traditional as quick as possible. Self-sufficient if we can. Fer the fuckin' sake of all this 'not as powerful' shit."
It's easier to throwback for one that's lived multiple lives off the land without refrigeration. It's just a matter of getting the infrastructure in place and people open to the idea of lacking some creature comforts.
Also, he's gonna stock up on whatever alcohol he can afford.
"The more self-sufficient the better. After all, we're on a space barge in the middle of nowhere. It's not like there's a bloody power grid we could hook up to if things go poorly."
There's not really anything they could hook up to if things go poorly. They'll all just be floating in space, a lovely little pile of dead people and Dorian, someone who's in a constant circle of death and revival.
The thought's awful. Don't mind Dorian as he downs the rest of his drink to drive it out.
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"Because you're right. I think people would be fine sacrificing a little patch that could grow food in exchange for not having to deal with the entire Barge hitting withdrawal all at the same time."
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"'less ya got some way ta magically speed up the process, it's still gonna take ya 'bout four months from seed ta cigarette. Three if yer lucky." Growing shit takes time. Sometimes that isn't convenient.
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Dorian's expression says that he knows 'plant magic' is stupid as hell, but how else is he going to describe it? It's plant magic. That's it.
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He nods once in acknowledgment. "I'll keep an eye out fer seeds in port. I know there's a bunch'a types in the greenhouse, but I f'gure that may not'ta made the cut." Being that tobacco is a pure indulgence (and something that's apparently regulated for some Inmates). Course, so are fucking flowers, and they have plenty of those.
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"I'll also keep an eye out for canning supplies, preservatives, things like that. We're going to need a shit ton of salt, I can tell that much already." Hmm, what else will they need...more booze, definitely, and Dorian takes another drink of his gin.
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"I'm lookin' ta go traditional as quick as possible. Self-sufficient if we can. Fer the fuckin' sake of all this 'not as powerful' shit."
It's easier to throwback for one that's lived multiple lives off the land without refrigeration. It's just a matter of getting the infrastructure in place and people open to the idea of lacking some creature comforts.
Also, he's gonna stock up on whatever alcohol he can afford.
no subject
There's not really anything they could hook up to if things go poorly. They'll all just be floating in space, a lovely little pile of dead people and Dorian, someone who's in a constant circle of death and revival.
The thought's awful. Don't mind Dorian as he downs the rest of his drink to drive it out.