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Post by montywonty on Apr 22, 2019 14:44:14 GMT -6
As the party entered The Drowning Squid, Renardo lagged behind just a moment to examine the pub, corner by corner. While it was easy for any audience (salaryman or not) to get rowdy, the homey atmosphere of the pub helped. Surely it could quell the impulse of a bar fight. “Slotted hardwood interior with an antiquated yet fitting-to-the-aesthetic spar varnish,” he had noted to himself aloud. Not much more lollygagging would be done while he finally passed the threshold of the pub’s entrance. He briskly claimed his seat and allowed his cane to collapse, retracting it and placing it within his dress shirt’s breast pocket.
While the group had already assembled and were primed to get tipsy, this Myra girl had made herself no stranger. Renardo spied poker-faced while she had dominated the pitcher from top to bottom. Concerning. But not something unjustifiable. After all, Daryl and Renardo both would be spared from the emotional turmoil that the mainstays of the Menaulion had gone through. Now was just the time to see how they would meld into the team - in their own little ways.
Evidently, Daryl was taking the amicable route. His more heavily mechanical counterpart lined up his own little ducks, hoping to fill them with his own brand of camaraderie. Renardo could fill his stomach stir - the truth in the matter was, agreeing to drinking heavily wasn’t a good idea for him. But, when in Rome. Especially since the Romans were going through hard times.
Renardo took the second highball glass to swirl it about in his hand. “The grapefruit might be an obvious tell. However, I pray wonder if there’s anything more to that name of ‘Ace of Hearts’.” With much anticipation, he only allowed a small sip to pass through his lips. His tongue rolled about against his cheek, permissing the flavors to linger.
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Post by Charredgp on Apr 22, 2019 15:10:56 GMT -6
Gabe hadn't had anywhere specific in mind with the intention of getting drunk. After all, a bar was a bar, no? So it was somewhat appreciated that someone else seemed to have an idea, rather than simply trying to sneak into the bar to get drunk and miserable. It was a bit more "homey" than what he would have picked, personally, but he wasn't paying for the first round, so beggars couldn't be choosers. He watched in silent awe as Myra downed the first pitcher in a display of drunken dominance, whistling a single note of interest.
"Well damn. Guess I gotta step my game up if Myra's gonna show us all up right at the start."
Before any others could lay claim, Gabe would move for the other pitcher of beer, tipping it up...And much like Myra, simply chugging the whole thing, though not without a break for air. Cheeks burning, he turned to the others with a grin, wiping some foam from his lips. "Phew! Alright, who's doin' the second round. Dibs not."
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Mary
Little Twinkle
Posts: 14
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Post by Mary on Apr 22, 2019 15:15:58 GMT -6
"You know, if you're not much of a drinker nobody here would put that against you." Eva couldn't help but comment to Renardo, flashing a bit of an amused smile as around her Myra had all but plunged headfirst into drinking. It was something that Meta hadn't written off as a possibility from her, after are there was a part of Eva terrified of that girl. Still, it was nice to see the whole crew a bit livelier despite of the heavy atmosphere looming over them. "Honestly, I'm not much better myself. But, sometimes you just have to cut loose a little bit, you know?"
She raised up her own bottle, nothing more than a hard cider, before lightly tapping against his glass before happily making quick work of it. Sure enough, true to her word her cheeks had already started to flush, Eva letting out a happy little chortle before reaching back for another bottle.
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Apr 22, 2019 20:16:54 GMT -6
“Sounds like one hell of a woman,” Myra mused as she lifted one of Daryl’s cocktails from the table. A wry smile crept across her face as she swirled the drink in the glass, watching the liquid spin round and round inside. She found herself feeling slightly dizzy. “Give her my regards, wherever she might be.”
Myra’s attention shifted to Gabe, who had stepped up to her unproclaimed challenge. Gulp by gulp he downed the second pitcher of beer. She sauntered towards him, only stopping once she was looking down at him with furrowed brow. Maintaining eye contact the whole way through she guzzled the Ace of Hearts, wincing as the vodka burned in her throat. The fizziness of the champagne rumbled and roiled in her stomach and erupted in an unbecoming belch.
“Hope that’s not all the game you’ve got, half-pint.”
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ned
Little Twinkle
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Post by ned on Apr 23, 2019 6:58:50 GMT -6
As the drinking showdown was going down, Val had quickly excused herself from the table, only to come back with a foaming pint in one hand and a pitcher full of ale in the other. Honestly, she was happy with the place they'd picked - reminded her of home, somehow.
"This one's on me", she announced to the group. "Afraid my pockets aren't deep enough for those fancy cocktails, though."
As she leaned back nonchalantly against her chair and took a hearty swig from her glass, she cast Daryl and Myra a wry sidelong glance before adding "Better hurry, too, seems like they tend to disappear as soon as they hit the table."
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Post by Charredgp on Apr 27, 2019 12:53:32 GMT -6
People looking, quite literally, down on him was certainly not a new experience for Gabe. Though he was pretty sure it was new getting looked down on by Myra. Not to be intimidated so easily, he casually set the pitcher aside, now empty save for some drops and foam.
"Half-pint? Points for the appropriate timin', but ya lose 'em right away for lack of originality. But nah, y'ain't seen all my game yet, don't ya worry."
Having finally seen the cocktails prepared for them all, Gabe grabbed an Ace for himself, giving it a thoughtful swirl... and then setting it down so he could add some more vodka to the mix before slamming it down.
"There we go!" He said, trying to suppress a grimace from the excess vodka. It burned like hell and the extra alcohol probably messed up the flavor, but she'd challenged him. Sacrifices had to be made.
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Post by S☆E on Apr 27, 2019 13:41:54 GMT -6
"Ruining my grandmom's cocktail to prove a point?" Daryl asked, shaking his head. "That's just rude." He took off his shades and set them on the table, his luminous prosthetic eyes fixed on Gabe's. "You could've drank from the bottle and gotten the same result," he said pointedly.
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on Apr 27, 2019 16:38:21 GMT -6
Myra found herself staring absentmindedly into Daryl’s prosthetic eyes, opening her lips slightly to ask a question she quickly realized was inappropriate. The fact that she was able to come to that realization meant there was at least a little wiggle room before she could consider herself well and truly shitfaced. Her attention shifted back towards Gabe, fingers running along the side of the vodka bottle.
“Got a point you know,” she said. “Might as well cut out the middleman.”
Her hand wrapped around the bottle and brought it to her lips. She then began to drink, trying (and failing) to suppress a grimace as she took one, two, three… four……and five big gulps of vodka. Myra’s entire body shuddered uncontrollably. For a moment it seemed uncertain whether or not she could keep it down, holding a white-knuckled fist to her mouth. A cocksure grin spread from behind her hand as she slowly offered the remainder of the bottle to Gabe.
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Post by montywonty on Apr 30, 2019 15:35:08 GMT -6
After the liquer did a sufficient job of filling his palate, Renardo would turn to respond to Eva. Not before a few uncomfortable shudders of his oral posture - it would be clear to any watchful eyes that his tolerance for alcohol was not the greatest. “Hrgh. Excuse me.” He would briskly mutter, taking out his cane once more while he walked over to the bar. With a quick exchange of his card, he would return to the table with a bottle of pinot gris. He made it a point to place the bottle by Daryl. No words would be needed to say that he was starting to find the little competition between Myra and Gabe a little unhealthy.
“‘Tis clear,” Renardo huffed while he returned to his seat, retracting his cane and addressing Eva. “From what I and Daryl have learned of your recent tribulations, it’s only natural. Especially with shore leave thrust upon you.” He sat curtly, staring at his half-empty highball glass.
“Judging from the previous scene however, with your prior crew mates. You three are lucky to be in each other’s company.” A disgruntled furrow of his brow. “Meanwhile, the remaining primary Menaulion crew members are content to encourage an amnesia risen from intoxication.”
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Post by fen on Apr 30, 2019 23:38:17 GMT -6
Rusty couldn't help but to laugh loudly and frequently with the group's shenanigans. Part of it was that it was the first time in a while since he was allowed to enjoy himself, but part of it was that he knew if he didn't, his friends would be worse off. Yuki was a prime example, though she had been steadily working on her drink since they arrived, she was still as quiet as ever, even as she stuck along with Rusty and Meta. Actually, her being quiet was part of the problem! Rusty was used to her opening up when they drank, the 'Quenched Beast' as they would sometimes joke. This time, she was content with idly stirring her straw, occasionally flashing a smile at someone, but doing little else.
He'd have to fix this.
"Hey now, hey now, gather around!" Shouted the six-foot-seven mountain, slapping his hand against the table they were amassed around.
"I want everyone to grab a bottle, a cup, a drink- whatever! Bring 'em around and keep 'em in front of you!"
As the pilots gathered around (or chose not to), Rusty jostled his hefty mug, brimming with foam. Though he had been working on it for a bit, there was enough in it that he knew he'd enjoy the next part he had planned. With a wide grin on his face and red tinged cheeks, he looked around, taking in the visage of them all.
"Man... I'm not one for speeches, but after everything that happened... I just wanna say a few things real quick, you know?"
Though he paused, it was clear it was more due to an uncertainty of what to say. Eventually he continued.
"I look around this table and I see a slew of different faces, different people, and I think about the people we lost and..." He broke his speech for a few moments, taking a breath. "I just wanted to say... I didn't know if I had it in me to keep going, but after seeing the energy in this room, I know I'm in good hands."
He thrust his drink into the air, allowing it to shine under the light.
"So let's make some toasts!"
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Post by Charredgp on May 3, 2019 19:53:23 GMT -6
"It ain't 'bout the drink, or even bein' efficient. It's 'bout sendin' a message." Gabe replied calmly, looking between the two of them. He ignored Rusty's admittedly nice speech to focus on Myra chugging the bottle of vodka, waiting patiently for her to finish.
"Alright, not bad. Points for ballsiness, I'll give ya that."
With the bottle offered, he really only had one choice of rebuttal. Grabbing it from her hand, he would bring it to his lips and proudly chugging the rest, even as his rational mind and body both protested this incredibly poor decision. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Like Myra, he couldn't resist a shudder as he finally pulled the empty bottle from his lips, but he'd shoot a cocky grin at Myra regardless.
"Y'ain't gonna beat me with vodka, Myra. Don't forget where I was stationed."
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Mary
Little Twinkle
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Post by Mary on May 4, 2019 0:41:11 GMT -6
Eva chuckled, focus kept on the empty bottle in her hands as she listened to Renardo's words, trying to keep up with the energy of the room despite the ever present pit growing at the bottom of her stomach. Alcohol helps she thought a bit too somberly before the downing of the next bottle helped alleviate that little problem. "You know, your words a tad bit flowery even for the ex-theater kid." Eva shot a playful smile at the direction of her new stuffy friend, patting his shoulder as she made her way up to the bar. "And I know exactly how to remedy that." In truth, her efforts were half an attempt to get him to loosen up, half of an excuse to duck away from the subject at hand. Drinking to forget, drinking to celebrate a tragic, certainly unexpected, reunion wasn't aided by the situation being highlighted by someone else. Still, he meant well in his words, even if they were a bit stuffy. A quick exchange at the bar awarded her with two glasses of her favorite cocktail, Horchata White Russian, which she set down in front of Renardo just as Rusty called everyone to attention.
Eva gave a tired sort of smile as Rusty gave it his best speech, words befitting of such a large boy who wore his feelings on his sleeve. "You sentimental idiot..." Eva chuckled, holding up her glass to go along with the energy of the room. "But honestly, I feel the same way. How quickly things turned when....when everything happened, it's hard to feel grounded after that. But this right here? This feels like home....And that's what we need right now." She clinked her glass with Renardo's, followed by Rusty's before giving it her best laugh. "So here's to new friends! ...And to all the ones we left behind." Her tone was more somber as she quietly added the second part, mostly to herself, before letting the mood of the room sweep her back to normal.
"So how about we get you talking, Renardo?"
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on May 4, 2019 11:55:38 GMT -6
“Those were smaller gulps,” Myra muttered indignantly. Though she only caught the tail end of Rusty’s rousing speech, too deep into the bottle of vodka to join the first round of toasts in anything but spirit, she thought it inappropriate to ignore him entirely.
“...to all the ones we left behind,” she repeated as she slid several dollars towards the bartender in exchange for a glass of cabernet. “Their deaths won’t be forgotten nor forgiven.”
Myra took a long, delicate sip of the red wine resting between her fingers. It was a welcome break from the stomach-churning vodka. She turned to Gabe and gave him a half-hearted shrug.
“If vodka is your territory, then wine is mine,” she explained to him. “Something tells me you couldn’t tell a merlot from a chardonnay, and that blank look on your face tells me that I’m right.”
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Post by fen on May 17, 2019 17:16:53 GMT -6
Though the bar was by no means crowded, there was enough foot traffic that the collection of faces slowly shifted over the night, starting with some locals and quickly changing into the visages belonging to tourists and other visitors. They were no exception. Though the party of pilots was by far the largest, their table was one of the few long enough to host that many people in the bar, that otherwise preferred to use a collection of smaller tables and booths along the sides. Up on the second floor in particular was a round table, just recently filled by four fresh butts that had just come in for a drink after a smoke session. The air was still a little cloudy as one of the taller ones, a man with unkempt strawberry blonde hair and sharp features, still had his light on him. Dressed in an attire not too unlike a biker, he seemed like someone that would be better left alone.
Amusingly, to his right was a lady not unlike him, with the same strawberry blonde hair, but longer and fluffier. She was dressed a bit more casually, with a dress she managed to snag and a pair of heels. Unlike her brother, she was clearly more social- usually. Maybe it was because her night plans involved going clubbing, not hitting up a stray bar full of homeless. Her bored expression was glued to her phone, which seemed to have undergone a brief makeover, sporting a keychain of some sort of Martian mascot. To her right was another lady, though compared to miss blondie, the two were nothing alike. Ragged shorts led up to serviceable crop top, hidden mostly by a brown jacket that seemed to have been cut horizontally across the middle, leaving her midriff bare. Her sleeves were also cut, which in turn let her flex her guns each time she lifted her hefty mug of beer to her lips. Her short chestnut hair framed her face, and her equally bored but clearly satisfied from booze alone gaze was enough to stifle most conversation.
...Unfortunately, the three of them were not alone. They had brought along a straggler. Someone who-
"I swear those are the pilots! Look- look!"
Leaning over onto the table with an unknown drink in his hand, was someone else. Unlike the other three, he was much paler, and much thinner- he was almost like a skeleton, if a skeleton had the poor choice to wear an ill-fitting suit to a night out in a bar. His slicked back red hair stood out in a crowd, and at least half of that reason was because of how much gel he thought he needed to use. Despite being on the second floor, he couldn't help but to lean onto the railing to squint that freckled face down at the collection of pilots on the ground floor, scrutinizing their every move. The blonde man sitting next to him couldn't help but to stare, a slow frown growing on his face.
"Bianca?" He asked, setting his smoke down.
"Mmm?" The woman across from him replied, mid-chug from her mug.
"Why did we have to bring him?" He asked again, this time staring straight at her, even as his tablemate quietly went "Hey!".
Bianca shrugged, finally setting her mug down. "He just kind of tagged along."
"I did n-"
"Oh my god guys, can you just shut up?!"
Gretel finally spoke up, slamming her phone down, still hunched forward- sheer boredom reeking from her figure. "Who cares if those are the pilots or whatever? We're not fighting right now so it doesn't matter!" She shook her head with every word, as if to emphasize how much she didn't want to be talking to him.
"Well... I mean... Sure, but they still killed a bunch of people so... I figure we could dump some beer on them?"
The table went silent.
"Sure." "Yeah, I guess." "It's not a war crime, so that's a start."
The scrawny man ripped Bianca's mug with surprising ferocity, and scuttled over to the railing, lifting it over and dumping a cold waterfall of booze onto a certain short-stuff's mottled brown and very drunk head.
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Post by Captain Ameijin! on May 20, 2019 21:17:56 GMT -6
“So ah, let me get this straight.” Myra massaged her temples as if it might help her process through her drunken stupor. “These were live grenades you’re talking about here? ‘Boom boom kablow’ explode-in-your-face kinda grenades?” “Ya insult both of us by insinuatin’ otherwise.” Gabe paused, long enough to gesticulate mildly to emphasize his point. “Little watered down for the strikes, but we still left some craters.” “...and neither of you lost an arm in all that.” She paused to consider what he’d told her. “Yeah, I’m calling bullshit.” “Ha!” With a loud cry of triumph that likely had several heads turning his way with its volume he pointed at Myra’s drink. “Totally true. Heads gave us a lecture for like two hours ‘bout wastin’ perfectly good ordinance, safety, sanity, all kindsa shit. If Sean were here he’d be laughin’ at ya for thinkin’ otherwise. Take your shot.” “No fucking way,” she said as she reluctantly brought the liquor to her lips—at this point she wasn’t entirely certain what was inside her glass but it sure did burn going down— and watched as beer cascaded over Gabe’s head. “Hey… is that piss?" For a moment, Gabe had drunkenly assumed that perhaps Myra had decided to get revenge for him having so many ridiculous victories in their latest game. It was only after a second of staring that he realized no, this wasn’t Myra’s fault. And of course, there was only one way to really tell the difference between poor beer and piss. He’d put a single finger to his cheek, running up to get a decent dollop to press to his tongue. “Hm...Don’t taste like piss. Tastes like finger.” “Wha— how the hell do you know what piss tastes like?” “How do ya not?” “Can’t just answer my question with another question,” Myra replied, deciding that she didn’t really want to know the answer anyways as her eyes slowly followed the trail of trickling beer up onto the second floor. There she found their harassers standing with slightly smug and perfectly punchable looks on their faces. Not that she could see their faces all that well from where she was. "Hey asswipes! Come down here and apologize to my friend or we'll... or we'll... (what should we do if they don't help clean this up?)" Instinctively, Gabe’s eyes would follow Myra’s upward, if only to see who had, in fact, pissed on poured beer on him. He didn’t expect to recognize anyone, but it was good to know who to be mad at when he was able to focus enough to care. “Mop the table with their faces? Or piss on ‘em.” “What is it with you and piss?” “Ya brought it up first.”
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