[Thread] We never saw nothin' but brass taps and oak

[thefuturemaker.livejournal.com]

Who: Sephiroth and Kyuzo.
When: Tonight (after shougi~)
Where: The Lux.
What: A drinking contest. D:
Rating: Uh. PG-13 for alcohol abuse.


Fresh off a devastating shougi loss, Sephiroth stalked down to the Lux like the darkest cloud in a storm, burning to win something. He picked out the ideal table quickly; it was small, with just three seats around it, in the corner, not under a light, and close to the bar.

He was impatient to get started, so rather than wait for Kyuzo, he went directly to the bartender and asked for two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. If Kyuzo didn't like it, well, he could argue when he got there.

Sephiroth yanked out the seat by the wall for himself, set the bottle and glasses on the table rather noisily, and sat down on the very edge of the seat, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, to wait.

Comments

[crimson-swords.livejournal.com]

Kyuzo was no real stranger to the drinking game. It'd been popular all throughout the Great War in between divisions. If you couldn't drink, you'd fight, and if you couldn't fight, you'd drink. Sometimes they'd even mixed the two things together, but that usually didn't end very well.

But that had been a long time ago. It'd been a couple of years since he'd actually picked up a bottle and gone at it. But at this point, Kyuzo was looking for any excuse just to have a drink and call it a day.

And so he walked into the bar. His eyes soon adjusted to the gloom, and he was able to pick out Sephiroth in one of the darker corners. He headed over immediately. He nodded in affirmation as he neared, unhooking his sheath from his back and setting it in the corner. Pulling out the chair nearer to the bar, he eyed the chosen drink. No objections.

He took a seat, and without hesitation, poured the drinks into the tiny glasses. From there he crossed his arms and eyed his opponent with his usual facial expression (which really wasn't much of an expression at all) and said, "...so it begins."

[thefuturemaker.livejournal.com]

Sephiroth agreed by throwing back his first shot.

Several more shots followed in relative silence, with just the bar's ambient sounds and the clink of their own glasses in the air.

Sephiroth was pouring his fifth when he first realized that his hand was drifting. It was steady, but he'd managed to almost miss his glass. He blinked. Now they were getting somewhere.

He picked up the glass and contemplated it for a moment before he spoke. "If I win," he said, and trailed off. No end to the sentence came to mind immediately, so he gulped down the shot.

[crimson-swords.livejournal.com]

Five or six glasses in, Kyuzo noticed that he was smirking. He wasn't really sure how it had happened--he certainly hadn't been thinking about it, and he didn't have any reason at the moment for the particular expression, but it was there.

"So what, we get prizes now?" He said after a pause, surprised and a little amused that it'd taken him so long to get out that response. It was just made all the more amusing by the fact that this was a surefire sign: the alcohol was working.

He poured another and noticed his mind wandering. Castle, castle. His mind did that on it's own, usually, but focus was something he'd rather have at the moment. But still, wonder what was happening in the journal? He kept it with him, despite the idiocy it contained. Another shot and he was just the slightest bit more diverted from the game.

[thefuturemaker.livejournal.com]

Sephiroth picked at the bowl of pretzels next to him. Things were beginning to develop a vaguely pleasant distance, a detachment that made him feel like no matter what he did, it wouldn't affect him or anything (or anyone) else.

"It is a competition," he said, nodding. He poured his sixth shot as he tried to think of suitable prizes. The same things kept drifting into his mind: sword, coat. Sword, coat.

"You can't have my sword or my coat," he decided, and threw back the shot.

[crimson-swords.livejournal.com]

And so they passed the time. Eventually Kyuzo got out his journal, and the whole thing went rather downhill from there. Soon he'd entirely forgotten how many shots he'd downed, or what the hell they were competing for, or why Yukimura was drawing hearts everywhere. But at that point, it was safe to say that he didn't really care, either.

Eventually, though, he reached the inevitable limit. It'd taken him a while to realize that after putting his face near the table he'd actually hit the table, and he didn't feel much like moving. Tunnel-vision, cue the fuzzy sounds, and then before he knew what had happened, he went out like a light.

[thefuturemaker.livejournal.com]

Immediately after he realized what had happened, Sephiroth reached over the table, snatched the journal and pen, and scrawled his victory across the bottom of the page.

He couldn't remember what he'd won, but he knew that he'd have to get it tomorrow, because there seemed to be an invisible weight pressing down on him. He stood up to shake it off, turned to give the other patrons a supercilious look, and promptly fell back into his seat. It took too much effort to stand when all he really wanted to do was put his head down on the table and sleep--which he did.