Vodquila

Kratzer knew the need for revenge. He knew the struggle of missing last words, even if it hadn't been his brother's that he'd missed; his mother had been one of the two people he trusted. He understood the heart-rending struggle of losing everything, everyone, in one fell swoop, and what it was like to have nothing else matter.

He could see her face as clearly as day: elegant, framed by black hair, with pale eyes looking out at him under scarlet-shaded lids. The scythe had glimmered in her hands and her gaze turned towards him. Time had frozen - and then she'd turned and left, leaving him with the bodies of his siblings and his mother and the accursed life of his father.

There was nothing Kratzer could say or do to make it better. He knew that, too. But he could offer assistance. Assistance in enacting the vengeance that was the one thing that might bring peace to Boris. He knew a lot of people in a lot of places and he was damned if he couldn't find some assassin through the Guild.

Damascus was curled up with his head in his arms on the table, his shoulders shaking with weak sobs. He had started crying almost immediately after Boris had started sharing his story, and as much as he was trying, the end still wasn't anywhere in sight. Boris leaving for the restroom gave him amber oppurtunity to try to compose himself, and he came up for a large gulp of air. Scrubbing his face, he gazed around at the others present, and his gaze landed on James, who also had tears running down his face.

This only made him tear up all over again, and he felt an overwhelming compulsion to hug someone. Since Boris was gone and he was determined to keep his promise with James, he was left wrapping his arms around himself and mourning the fact that he couldn't comfort someone else at the moment.

"Wilshon, love of my life," I warbled deliriously as I stumbled into the room, "would you fetch me some water? God blessh your soul, I'm putting you in my will."

Upon further inspection, all my companions looked sombre as a Sabbath morn, even the ones who had not heard my tale. Especially Damascus, and poor James.
Had I made a mistake in leaving him so suddenly?
Through my detached delirium, I resolved to reach out.

I shambled over to James, and smiled.

"Jamesh, my dear, dear fellow, why do you look so glum? Ish it becaush I made you tell everyone you're a virgin?
I'm shorry, but that wash hilarioush."

I leaned over, and hugged him.

"Don't worry. Itsh alright. You're a charming fellow. It'll happen." I said, stroking his hair.

Kratzer stood and stumbled over to Boris and James, nearly falling into the closest chair. He proceeded to lean towards Boris. "Borish," he said. "I couldn't help but overhear yer shituation, 'n I was zinkin' zat maybe I could give ya a hand. Got lots of contacts of assassins and ze type and I'll be damned if I can't find ze one you're lookin' for zrough a few of zem if yer havin' trouble. Just call me when I'm sober."

Wilson gave Boris a nod and a smile, and went off to get some water. She decided to just get water for everyone.

James's sob didn't last very long. He soon found he had no more tears to cry - out of emotional exhaustion, but also insufficient hydration. So when Boris began to approach him his eyes were dry but raw, and he had a feeling he looked even worse off than before, so it thoroughly confused him when Boris came up to him with a smile. And then... brought up... that again.

Though just moments ago he had deeply empathized with the man, in a matter of seconds he wanted to be away from him. Somewhere, not there, someplace on the other side of the room by himself. But then he suddenly found himself being hugged, and he tensed up. His eye twitched when Boris started petting his hair, and his face was turning red again.

I released James, and moved to face Kratzer. I wondered for a spell how he'd heard us, but the thought didn't last very long, before it was washed away by a catastrophic tidal wave of gushing sentimentality.

"That'sh very, very shweet of you. I think I shtill want to do it myshelf, but I'll, I'll think about it. Damn it, you're sho, that really is shweet. It ish. Thank you." I told him.

I hugged him briefly, before moving on to Damascus.

I went up to the poor fellow, pulled up a chair, and embraced him.

"Damashcushh, honey, whatssssh the matter? Are you tired?" I crooned incoherently.

He was surprised, but didn't resist the hug. As Boris moved to Damascus, Kratzer leaned back in his chair but failed to recognize the fact that if he went too far back he'd tip himself over - proof that he'd ingested far too much alcohol - and instead of simply rocking back he soon found himself sprawled out on the floor.

"AAGH!" he let out a startled exclamation as he fell that was followed by a muffled groan. He didn't have the motivation to get back up, either, so he just laid there.

"Well...if yaz...changes yer mind...I'm...around...just ask...fer Silberfuchs," he mumbled.

Damascus blinked as Boris hugged him and quickly retaliated, wrapping his arms around the other man more gently than he usually would have. A few more tears escaped, and he wiped his face on Boris' shoulder.

"Yesssh, y'knoe, I realleh am." He responded, not wanting to go to the trouble of admitting that he had overheard he and James' conversation. Plus, now that it came to his attention, he realized that he was exhausted.

"But don' tell meh to goh tah sleep!!" This came out louder than he intended, and he realized that it had probably hurt Boris' ear, considering that his mouth was right next to it. He reached up a hand and patted the ear before continuing in a softer tone. "Youhh guysh are thuh besht friendss I've evah had. 'm shcarehd that if I go tah shleep now, everrehone will beh gahn when aye wake up."

At this thought, he fought back more tears and buried his face in Boris' shirt.

That was when someone started sobbing. Kratzer rolled over and blinked, trying to identify who was crying, and then got to his feet unsteadily. "Nnnneeeiinnnn," he said weakly as he started to try to stumble over. "Don't be saaddddd!" As he said this, he tripped over his own feet and faceplanted again. Maybe he should stop trying to go places and let Borish deal with it...

That did hurt, admittedly, but I would help him, I would protect him, I would be there, goddamn it.

"Don't you worry. I'll shtay up with you. I'll shtay. We'll all shtay. I'll make, I'll make surrre we do." I told him fiercely.

"Vat Borish shaid," Kratzer concurs from the ground.

"Th- thaaank you..." Damascus choked out, still embracing Boris fiercely. He looked up through his tears when he heard Kratzer's voice.

"Thank yew, Kratshuhh! T- try naht to hurt yer faceh, okeh?" He crooned, this time leaning slightly away before raising his voice. For no apparent reason, he choked up suddenly again.

"Aye... aye lurve you guyshhh!" Spluttering with emotion, he wrapped his arms around Boris' neck and buried his face once more.

Wilson started making her rounds around the room, putting a glass in front of James, handing one to Schadel, then Edward, and put two more for Boris and Damascus on the bar beside them. She set the last cup on the table as she walked up to Kratzer, who was clearly struggling from his place on the floor. She extended a hand towards him. "Can I help you up, mate?"

Meanwhile, James slowly sipped from his glass, watching the mess unfold from his corner of the room. He didn't want to end up like Kratzer, so he stayed put, at least until he finished drinking his water. The last thing he wanted to do was spill on himself.

"We, we love you, too." I said feverishly, ruffling Damascus' hair.

Sniffling up his remaining tears, Damascus finally pulled back from the embrace and patted Boris' shoulder. Blurrily, he glanced around for a minute, and his eyes seemed to find what they were looking for when they landed on Schadel.

"Shhhchadehl!" With a gasp, he remembered that she was still waiting to play the game. "I- I truwth yew to... anshwer meh this! Whoshe yer fafrite person yah've met here tonight?"

The question had barely left his mouth before he realized that it was a very controversial one. He gaped a little, wondering if he could take it back.