hamelinic | tfln meme

[No one ever actually wants to play whist. There is no level of drunkenness. None. Cynric is very firm about this.

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.

[Horatio wants to play wist! Don't be such a hater, Cynric!]

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?

[Hatred originating from disreputable gentleman is going to continually persist, as the kids say.

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.

How much have you had already?

[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.]

[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.]

[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.]

Have you been on your own all day?

[Aka: Have you been drinking alone all day?]

[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.

You are your own worst enemy. I'm sure you'd have found someone to look after you earlier if you'd made any attempt...

[Did he say look after? He meant hang out with. Yes. Hanging out, not babysitting.]

Terrible.

[Terrible but keeping him upright. A delicate place to be.]

's put rum in th' coffee.

[Horatio carefully maneuvers Cynric into the main ship, and it's a mercifully short stagger to his quarters from there.]

We'll see. It would be a terrible shame to ruin the flavor of the coffee, wouldn't it?

[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?

These are the questions.]

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.]

Hey, no wait!

[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.]

[But now the door is open. How is this not the entire point. How are praises not being rained down on him for his brilliance.

And how is he being punished.]

--but. But you said.

[And how drunk is he that the bottle isn't noticed right away.]

[Oh god no don't look at Horatio like that.]

You just kicked my door in, Sir! If you are too drunk to remember how to open a door, you are simply too drunk.

...even coffee?

[Wounded.

Do you see how you've wounded him, Horatio.

Do you see his broken heart on his sleeve and swimming in his eyes.

Do you see.]

[Oh god Cynric stop looking at him like that he literally can't cope with it right now.]

Of course you can have coffee, I just don't want you getting so drunk that you're ill.

[ill all over his stuff, he means.]

[He'll stop when you stop breaking his tiny puppy heart, sir.

Which might be never.]

'll not be. If-- I sit.

[Promise. Look how he promises.]

Then sit, and I'll make you something to eat, and you must have some coffee. Then, perhaps we shall have some rum.

[Once he's tricked Cynric into forgetting about it, hopefully. Horatio's cabin is small. A narrow bed, a coffee table, a desk and chair, and a counter with a very small array of cooking supplies upon it. Horatio reaches to snag the rum bottle from the coffee table, and turns to put the kettle on.]

[Look how he sits. Look how he sits right here at this desk where he's set. Look how he sits upright on his own.

Look how proud he is of himself. Beaming, really, about his skill of sitting.]

...holy crumbs! Hello again! :D

Yes! Hello again back! :>

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Action?

Brackets or prose?

Brackets seems to be what the spirit is calling for!

o7

\o/

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