[What, you don't want to spend hours getting drunkenly lectured on how to play a good hand of wist? Gosh, Cynric, if that's not your idea of fun then I don't know what is...]
Inviting. Or offering, if you'd prefer I come to you?
[Because not everyone wants to hang out in a tiny cabin on what seems to be a permanently docked ship.]
[And sure enough, Horatio will be hanging around dockside waiting for certain disreputable gentlemen to arrive. He would have stayed on the ship, but he's really not sure how drunk Cynric is, and visions of the man toppling off the gangplank and into the sea have been dancing in his head.]
[Which is for the best, because this gentleman (of some repute, thank you, whist-playing ridiculous man) would have been stuck counting bottles for aaaaages if he had to. Counting over 'two' is feeling a little overtricksy at this point.
So within the ballpark of fifteen minutes, Cynric will absolutely appear on the docks, walking in... not at all a straight line, but that's to be expected, right? Right.]
Brackets seems to be what the spirit is calling for!
[Oh Cynric. Oh no, Cynric, no, don't drunkenly weave over to the guardrail like that please...
Horatio decides to abandon his post at the foot of the gangplank, and go meet his drunken companion half way. Mainly in the hopes that he'll be able to catch Cynric, should he go lurching off towards the black waters of the dock.]
My god man, how early did you start? I should have promised you coffee instead...
[Would Cynric have accepted coffee? Probably not. Is it completely too late to try and renegotiate this now? Definitely.]
[But look what weaving gets him. It gets him hugs! Or, well. It gets a pole of a human being to latch onto for maintaining maximum uprightness in the face of drunkenness.]
Earlier. [And that's as specific as he can get.] 've you got some coffee?
[If there were going to be horrible non-fun games of cards insisted on, he should at least be half-alert for it. Right? Right.
Don't question; just get coffee in him before he remembers he wants to be more drunk than he already is.]
[Horatio will placidly allow any and all hugging that prevents Cynric from toppling into the icy depths of the dock. In fact, he even goes so far as to carefully wind his arm around Cynric's waist, to guide him towards the gangplank.]
I do have some coffee. Some very nice coffee indeed, actually, and fresh cream...
[The coffee is nice, but the bit about the cream is a lie. He's just really hoping Cynric can be distracted from the promise of more rum.]
[Any and all hugging is the best. Any and all hugging is exactly what the addled brain wants just now.
And coffee is apparently a suggestion which has the addled brain's attention. His hum is more tuneless than usual, but the bobbing of his head--once it's done destabilizing him--is entirely amiable.]
Nice coffee. Nice cofeeee. [Maybe it's just nice words. Who knows. It's distracting him from stumbling on the gangplank.] Very nice. You're a very nice coffee, sir.
How kind of you to say. I'm sure you're a very nice coffee as well.
[Oh god Cynric how are you possibly this adorable? You're going to have to stop it because Horatio is not supposed to find men this adorable and it makes him feel a little weird.
Still, they ascend the gangplank safely, and Horatio begins to steers Cynric towards the the main entry port.]
[Ridiculous. Men are adorable. And women are adorable. Everyone is adorable. Life is adorable. Horatio just embrace the love and joy which is the universe.
And don't overly judge the answer, which comes with just a touch of a pout.]
And only whiskey as a friend. You're all terrible friends.
[He wants to hit as many solid surfaces as possible on his way to his quarters, right? Because Cynric's feet have got that. They're all about that. Totally covered.]
Would it, though?
[Ruin the nice coffee? Or make the nice coffee into SUPER COFFEE?
Well, the only way to find out will be to try it both ways. No rum can go first.
[The gentle swaying of the ship is just a whole new adventure with Cynric's broken rudder trying to direct them. Horatio finally juts out his free hand to clasp one of the doorframes they're passing, tugging the bard carefully towards it.]
Here we are, would you please open the door for me? It's not locked.
[He only asks on account of currently having his arms currently full of Cynric and doorframe.]
[Ah yes. Hello, door, old arch-nemesis of not so long ago when trying to get to the stairs to tumble down to get here. Last time had been a battle for the ages.
This time he starts with kicking. It only takes two to get the poor wood heaving open.
He's learned! Isn't Horatio proud? Horatio should be proud.]
[No! It's too late! The door buckles in and the latch splinters, and Horatio is left propping up Cynric and just. Wincing.
It's fine. It'll be fine. He'll fix it in the morning.]
Right. No more rum for you.
[Even though he... can now see that he left it out on the table while waiting for Cynric to arrive. He just clearly underestimated how drunk his visitor would be.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
/gently follows you over from dat meme
I genuinely do not know.
/happy scree
Nor do I.[But, it occurs.]
Maybe so you'll entertain me in my broken hearted state of dashed dreams.
Please.
I actually did a thread with you ages ago with a different dude! I'm v. glad to be doing another :>
[Okay, perhaps he feels a little bad for pooping on your dream.]
I have a bottle of rum and a deck of cards?
[If Cynric is hoping for more exciting entertainment than that, he'll have to suggest it himself. Horatio isn't the wildest party animal in town.]
--zuh? No way. Whowhowho.
Are you bragging or inviting?Crazy necromancer out of Baldurs Gate, I think I thread dropped to go look at castles...
Inviting. Or offering, if you'd prefer I come to you?
[Because not everyone wants to hang out in a tiny cabin on what seems to be a permanently docked ship.]
...holy crumbs! Hello again! :D
But.]
You're inviting.[Letting people breathe in the same room as his violin? Oh no. No no no no no sir no.]And you are being generous with the rum.Yes! Hello again back! :>
How kind of me.
[Buuuut, okay he was sort of expecting to do that.]
I'm staying on board The Indefatigable, down in the docks. Should I let out the gangplank for you?
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Haters are, apparently, also going to boat-crash.]
In fifteen minutes. It's going to take me at least seven to get down the stairs.Action?
[Pause. Does it even matter?]
Never mind. I'll see you soon.
[And sure enough, Horatio will be hanging around dockside waiting for certain disreputable gentlemen to arrive. He would have stayed on the ship, but he's really not sure how drunk Cynric is, and visions of the man toppling off the gangplank and into the sea have been dancing in his head.]
Brackets or prose?
So within the ballpark of fifteen minutes, Cynric will absolutely appear on the docks, walking in... not at all a straight line, but that's to be expected, right? Right.]
Brackets seems to be what the spirit is calling for!
Horatio decides to abandon his post at the foot of the gangplank, and go meet his drunken companion half way. Mainly in the hopes that he'll be able to catch Cynric, should he go lurching off towards the black waters of the dock.]
My god man, how early did you start? I should have promised you coffee instead...
[Would Cynric have accepted coffee? Probably not. Is it completely too late to try and renegotiate this now? Definitely.]
o7
Earlier. [And that's as specific as he can get.] 've you got some coffee?
[If there were going to be horrible non-fun games of cards insisted on, he should at least be half-alert for it. Right? Right.
Don't question; just get coffee in him before he remembers he wants to be more drunk than he already is.]
\o/
I do have some coffee. Some very nice coffee indeed, actually, and fresh cream...
[The coffee is nice, but the bit about the cream is a lie. He's just really hoping Cynric can be distracted from the promise of more rum.]
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And coffee is apparently a suggestion which has the addled brain's attention. His hum is more tuneless than usual, but the bobbing of his head--once it's done destabilizing him--is entirely amiable.]
Nice coffee. Nice cofeeee. [Maybe it's just nice words. Who knows. It's distracting him from stumbling on the gangplank.] Very nice. You're a very nice coffee, sir.
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[Oh god Cynric how are you possibly this adorable? You're going to have to stop it because Horatio is not supposed to find men this adorable and it makes him feel a little weird.
Still, they ascend the gangplank safely, and Horatio begins to steers Cynric towards the the main entry port.]
Have you been on your own all day?
[Aka: Have you been drinking alone all day?]
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And don't overly judge the answer, which comes with just a touch of a pout.]
And only whiskey as a friend. You're all terrible friends.
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[Did he say look after? He meant hang out with. Yes. Hanging out, not babysitting.]
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[Terrible but keeping him upright. A delicate place to be.]
's put rum in th' coffee.
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We'll see. It would be a terrible shame to ruin the flavor of the coffee, wouldn't it?
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Would it, though?
[Ruin the nice coffee? Or make the nice coffee into SUPER COFFEE?
These are the questions.]
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[The gentle swaying of the ship is just a whole new adventure with Cynric's broken rudder trying to direct them. Horatio finally juts out his free hand to clasp one of the doorframes they're passing, tugging the bard carefully towards it.]
Here we are, would you please open the door for me? It's not locked.
[He only asks on account of currently having his arms currently full of Cynric and doorframe.]
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This time he starts with kicking. It only takes two to get the poor wood heaving open.
He's learned! Isn't Horatio proud? Horatio should be proud.]
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[No! It's too late! The door buckles in and the latch splinters, and Horatio is left propping up Cynric and just. Wincing.
It's fine. It'll be fine. He'll fix it in the morning.]
Right. No more rum for you.
[Even though he... can now see that he left it out on the table while waiting for Cynric to arrive. He just clearly underestimated how drunk his visitor would be.]
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And how is he being punished.]
--but. But you said.
[And how drunk is he that the bottle isn't noticed right away.]
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You just kicked my door in, Sir! If you are too drunk to remember how to open a door, you are simply too drunk.
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