Damascus sighed and closed his eyes, turning his head slowly side to side and savoring the feeling of Boris' shirt. His fogged mind darted from one thing to the next, until his eyes shot open suddenly. He kept his head down, staring intensely at the floor.
"I need a shecond opehnyon, Borish." He said gravely. "have I behn doin' it wrong all theshe yearsh? I can' seem tah fixsh it, but meh human form is alwaysh covered in... fur." This last part was whispered in reverence.
"Or.. or ish it called.. hair? I alwaysh mix da two up."
"Ish normal. 'Specially for men. With your, ehh, shape? changing? situation... I'ven't the foggiesht what'sh normal for you.
...I don't know, what place, places is the hair in? If you want to check what's normal, jusht, jusht see someone elshes' body. I could, I could oblige....
...alright, I may be a harlot, but I swear that innuendo was an accident."
But you can take it how you will, I thought to myself. Thank God for self-restraint.
"But you can take it how you will." I said out loud. Damn. Nevermind.
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Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
"Oh godsh," James groaned, overhearing the two. He sunk his head between his arms and covered his ears.
Meanwhile, Wilson began to belt out the song along with Kratzer's singing as it played over the speakers. Her voice was had a tone that sounded like she had the potential to sing well if she wanted, but she was intentionally butchering it.
"BLUEEEEE BIRDS! SINGINg A SONG! NOTHIN' BUT BLUE BIRDDSSSS! ALL DAY LONG!" she sang loudly.
The pleasant grin that had been on Edward's face suddenly deepened into a frown as the song continued to play. "This-This was the song that was playing when I came back home from the war," he said. Schadel nervously gulped when she heard what she said, turning back to see that his eyes were already growing quite wet. She frantically fumbled around in her pockets for a packet of tissues, but she had forgotten it back at the agency. "My mom had company over, and I was standing on the doorstep, pounding on the door for her to let me in. I knew I was dead, but-but-"
He dropped his head down onto the table. "I just wanted her to notice me!" he shouted particularly loudly; Schadel flinched at the sudden change of volume as she went to put her drink down. "But nothing I did showed her! She even tried getting me exorcised, Schadel! I remember the priest coming and everything!"
Schadel's hand went up to cover her mouth. "Oh God," she said. Edward had never once mentioned the specifics of what had happened after he died. It had always been too personal of a subject. But, apparently, all that he had needed to open up was a few too many drinks and a song that Schadel fondly remembered hearing in Blanx's shop when she had helped there all those years ago.
Damascus' face popped up from where he had been staring at the ground. A small smile curved his lips, and his chin was very nearly perched on the man's shoulder. That would be a great help!, he nearly said. Nearly. And then Boris had elaborated. Though he had difficulty following what he was hearing, he had a vague impression that it was most likely sexual.
After a few beats of processing, his ears flushed- mostly out of embarrassment that he had been so ready to agree in his ignorance.
"...'M nah sure 'm shoshally eqipped tah anshwer that.." he finally murmured. "Nggh.. but on tah othe' hand, it woul' help meh sleep better a' nigh, tah know."
"Tell you what," I said, "Hit me up when we're shober enough to shtand, and we'll see how it goes."
I allowed my attention to wander once again, and found the two youths from before, over by the bar. One of them was crying now, seemingly taken by the sorrowful trend of the night. First it was James, followed by myself, followed by the scarred gentleman, and now this youth.
"Good Chrisht Almighty, will anyone make it through tonight with a dry eye." I said, casually, but not without sympathy.
Bad souls have born better sons, better souls born worse ones -St Vincent
James needed another drink. It was a debatable use of the word need, but he didn't care. He looked around, eyes landing on the bartender who was finishing belting out the song before another song started to fill the bar.
Wilson caught his searching gaze and bounced on her heels, grabbing a bottle of vodquila and a glass. She walked over to their table, ready to pour him a cup but he grabbed for the bottle and started to drink straight from it. She blinked a few times before shrugging.
"You might wanna make sure your new friend paces himself," she commented to the other two drunkards beside James before she skipped off back to her spot by her ipod.
Damascus looked wide-eyed at James. From what he had gathered, there was a chance that James could be even more intoxicated than himself already, which was saying something.
"Hey, uh, Jamesh.." he tapped his shoulder, "wouldja mind shharin' tha with meh?"
Though he would really rather not drink anything else, he figured that a bottle halved between them would do less harm then the rate the other man was drinking.
Last edited by ChristenedPages on Wed Sep 12, 2018 10:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Schadel gave a sorrowful nod in agreement, torn between commenting on what Edward had said and addressing it later at a time where he was more sober. So she settled on a compromise - grabbing onto his hand and giving it a tight squeeze to show her support before getting her drink refilled and taking a hearty sip out of it.
"Scheisse," she suddenly said, nearly spitting her drink out in surprise. "That's way stronger than I expected."
Damasus spluttered, exasperated and slightly flustered. He really needed to help James, and honestly hadn't expected him to refuse. All he could think of was resulting to childish behavior. He grabbed the other man's arm and tried to look as meanacing as possible.
"If you don' sh- share tha' with meh, I will lick yuh." It only took a few seconds for him to back down. "I- if ya shcared of germsh or sonmethehn', ya can powr it straieiht in mah mouf."
James stared at Damascus's hand on his arm and his eyebrows furrowed. He intended to look angry, but he mostly looked just offended, and pouty. He set the bottle on the table, though he still held it in his hands.
"You can jusht get your own bottle," he muttered, still looking at Damascus's hand. "And don't lick me. L-letsh me go," he said, pulling his arm away.
Damascus sighed and dropped his hand away, having no reasonable argument. He would just have to find another opportunity to save James from alcohol poisoning.
"Alrigh', nev'rmihn. Showeh I was bosseh."
He sat a moment and stared into space, becoming once again aware of the music in the background. As lovely as it was, it was most definitely hurting his head and preventing him from thinking as efficiently. On second thought, it was most likely the alcohol that was the cause.
"Oh, Jamesh, I know shomthin'.." he finally perked up, "drinkin' gamesh! Ya know any weh cahn plehy? Uh... if you shay yesh, I promishe nah tah touch you fo the.. the resht a tha night!"
Hopefully his failsafe was effective- he had noticed how James had seemed to get uncomfortable whenever he was touched, mostly by Damascus with his newfound lack of personal boundaries.
James grimaced, shaking his head at Damascus. He didn't want to play a drinking game. He never did - he never played drinking games. Not when he was just James. But he found himself shrinking away at the mention of being touched. What did Damascus mean by that? If he didn't play the game, what was Damascus going to try to do? Just... hold him? He pointed the bottle at Damascus again, this time his frown quivering slightly as his eyes fogged up again. He didn't know why he was getting teary-eyed again.
"You cahn promish to not touch me r-regardjlesh of s-some drinking game Damscru... damshu...d-damn."
