I'll have you know I haven't had a drop to drink today! [ He actually has to stop and think about it. ] For a given value of today. Anything that happens before I sleep is fair game.
[ He's been having nightcaps pretty frequently, these days. But even if he has a sip or two at 3 AM, it doesn't count so long as he's up and at 'em the next day, right? ]
So we'll say it's the former. [ He's maintaining his composure well enough, but he's still clearly spooked; it shows in the tense way his shoulders are hunched, the way he looks as though he's ready to bolt at any second, hands curled into fists at his side. ] Care to accompany me to amend that?
[ After what he just saw? He could use that drink. ]
Vi, I'm the bartender. I don't have to pay for shit.
[ His bosses probably wouldn't be too happy to hear him say that, but his bosses aren't here right now, are they? Besides, they give him carte blanche to serve as much free alcohol as he needs to keep tongues loose and coinpurses empty. How are they going to know that he's dipping into it for his own personal supply too?
As he staggers along with Vi beside him, his eyes dart to and fro, as though expecting -- something to come out. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that it feels profoundly wrong to be thrust from a combat situation into an ordinary day. Not that he understands what the hell he'd be doing in a combat situation, anyway. He's no fighter. ]
Did you, um... did you see anything, just now? Or was that just me?
Have they? I don't know if that makes me feel better or worse, if I'm being honest with you. [ Claude runs his fingers through his hair, shaking out his messy waves. As they turn the corner, they reach the bar and Claude takes out a keyring that's a bit larger than it has any right to be - filled with keys of his conquests, no doubt - and and opens it up.
A bar is always a bit sad looking in the full blast of overhead lights, instead of dimly lit as it is when they're open properly, the starkness of the empty floors and the worn stools where the same people sit there night after night an unsettling sight.
Claude sighs, spinning the keys around his finger in strained jollity, and then pockets them. ]
What can you tell me about the way other people were freaking out? Were they ranting and raving about spooky visions too?
[she nods as she walks in, shoving her hands in her pockets. even if it is quiet... that's fine with her. it doesn't have to be busy for her friend to treat her to a few drinks.]
I've had a couple visions, too. I just... don't know if I believe that they're real. This feels more real. This moment.
So, what, you think they're some sort of... freaky hallucinations? [ Claude gnaws on the inside of his lip, one of his few remaining tells of discomfort that he has. When he'd first found out the nature of his birth, he'd chewed his lips raw and bloody, and he'd never quite recovered; there's a permanent indent inside his lower lip where he bites and worries and chews too much for it to ever fully recover.
He steps behind the bar, rifling underneath it for a couple of glasses. ]
You could be right. I don't know. It felt so real -- but I'd really rather it wasn't. [ He offers her a queasy smile. ] Why don't you tell me what you saw? After you tell me what you want to drink.
[ Claude clicks his tongue. ] You got it. Hard liquor it is.
[ This is easy. Reassuring. He's been making drinks back here for as long as he can remember, these days, and digging the bottles and cups out and making a couple of drinks by rote is exactly what his addled, frantic brain needs right now. He makes two old fashioneds, one for her, one for him. He hops up onto the bar to be able to sit beside her properly, ignoring the fact that if his employer were to see it, he'd get a whole earful for his transgression.
He frowns as she lays out what she'd seen. It's all terse, short, devoid of anything that would help them make sense of it... but that's the way his memory had been as well. ]
That's... personal, [ he says with a frown. ] And specific.
[ To her, he means. For Claude, he could have been any man on any battlefield. But Vi is remembering something else altogether, a small family tragedy instead of a wave of crushing war. Somehow, Claude thinks he got off luckier. ]
It's not true, [ he says firmly. ] That wouldn't happen. You wouldn't let it happen. Whatever these... visions are, we're not responsible for them. [ He takes a slow sip of the whiskey. ] Did it feel like it was a warning? A premonition?
[so... y'know, she's just going to down the whole drink within a couple of goes. she doesn't speak until the liquid's gone, but it doesn't really help her state of mind.
not that she really expected it to.
she places the glass back on the table and sighs, shaking her head.]
It wasn't that clear to make out a lot of specifics outside of that.
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expiationlogs2024-03-09 08:37 am
no subject
[ He's been having nightcaps pretty frequently, these days. But even if he has a sip or two at 3 AM, it doesn't count so long as he's up and at 'em the next day, right? ]
So we'll say it's the former. [ He's maintaining his composure well enough, but he's still clearly spooked; it shows in the tense way his shoulders are hunched, the way he looks as though he's ready to bolt at any second, hands curled into fists at his side. ] Care to accompany me to amend that?
[ After what he just saw? He could use that drink. ]
no subject
Of course. Gotta make sure that you get there in one piece and all that.
[she grins.]
Surely you'll find it in your heart to buy me a drink for your safe passage.
no subject
[ His bosses probably wouldn't be too happy to hear him say that, but his bosses aren't here right now, are they? Besides, they give him carte blanche to serve as much free alcohol as he needs to keep tongues loose and coinpurses empty. How are they going to know that he's dipping into it for his own personal supply too?
As he staggers along with Vi beside him, his eyes dart to and fro, as though expecting -- something to come out. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that it feels profoundly wrong to be thrust from a combat situation into an ordinary day. Not that he understands what the hell he'd be doing in a combat situation, anyway. He's no fighter. ]
Did you, um... did you see anything, just now? Or was that just me?
no subject
[but she does notice that he looks a little paranoid now... she frowns and watches him for a few moments before he asks his question.]
I didn't see anything. But you wouldn't be the first person to freak out around here lately... maybe there's something in the water?
no subject
A bar is always a bit sad looking in the full blast of overhead lights, instead of dimly lit as it is when they're open properly, the starkness of the empty floors and the worn stools where the same people sit there night after night an unsettling sight.
Claude sighs, spinning the keys around his finger in strained jollity, and then pockets them. ]
What can you tell me about the way other people were freaking out? Were they ranting and raving about spooky visions too?
no subject
[she nods as she walks in, shoving her hands in her pockets. even if it is quiet... that's fine with her. it doesn't have to be busy for her friend to treat her to a few drinks.]
I've had a couple visions, too. I just... don't know if I believe that they're real. This feels more real. This moment.
[#mindfucked club]
no subject
He steps behind the bar, rifling underneath it for a couple of glasses. ]
You could be right. I don't know. It felt so real -- but I'd really rather it wasn't. [ He offers her a queasy smile. ] Why don't you tell me what you saw? After you tell me what you want to drink.
no subject
[she's not really picky, honestly. alcohol was alcohol at this point, to her.
at the mention of her memories... she frowns as she leans against the counter. she doesn't like to think about them. she really and honestly doesn't.]
Punching my sister. Getting arrested... not being able to see her for years. A cell.
[her voice actually sounds sort of shaky.]
I don't want it to be true.
no subject
[ This is easy. Reassuring. He's been making drinks back here for as long as he can remember, these days, and digging the bottles and cups out and making a couple of drinks by rote is exactly what his addled, frantic brain needs right now. He makes two old fashioneds, one for her, one for him. He hops up onto the bar to be able to sit beside her properly, ignoring the fact that if his employer were to see it, he'd get a whole earful for his transgression.
He frowns as she lays out what she'd seen. It's all terse, short, devoid of anything that would help them make sense of it... but that's the way his memory had been as well. ]
That's... personal, [ he says with a frown. ] And specific.
[ To her, he means. For Claude, he could have been any man on any battlefield. But Vi is remembering something else altogether, a small family tragedy instead of a wave of crushing war. Somehow, Claude thinks he got off luckier. ]
It's not true, [ he says firmly. ] That wouldn't happen. You wouldn't let it happen. Whatever these... visions are, we're not responsible for them. [ He takes a slow sip of the whiskey. ] Did it feel like it was a warning? A premonition?
no subject
[so... y'know, she's just going to down the whole drink within a couple of goes. she doesn't speak until the liquid's gone, but it doesn't really help her state of mind.
not that she really expected it to.
she places the glass back on the table and sighs, shaking her head.]
It wasn't that clear to make out a lot of specifics outside of that.