[Closed] Show me people who drink too much, who have to try out fancy drinks...
Characters; Vash and Wolfwood
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; drinking hall
Date & Time; Day 3, night (Backdated)
Warnings; Extreme stupidity and Trigun manga spoilers (this sounds familiar)
Briefing; Wolfwood and Vash meet up again in the evening to do a little catching up. And what's catching up without copious amounts of alcohol?
Evening came around quickly, and for the second night in a row, Wolfwood found himself in the military bar. He sat at the exact same table as he did last night, in the same chair that monopolized the entrance view. However, tonight he was there alone. Livio declared he wished to be elsewhere, something about exploring the rest of the camp. Wolfwood figured the kid just didn't want to get drunk again but had enough on his mind to not call Livio out on it.
On the table sat a large pitcher of the tomas piss they called beer, and in front of him was a tankard poured full. In the empty spot across from his, a second tankard, as empty as the seat, was placed.
The cigarette in Wolfwood's hand burned quietly, lit and forgotten. Its ashen half broke off and fell without notice to the tray below, letting a thin stream of gray smoke curl up from the liberated end. Staring at the empty chair before him, with his long legs stretched out beneath the table, Wolfwood waited, thinking.
Setting/Location; Ex Favila; drinking hall
Date & Time; Day 3, night (Backdated)
Warnings; Extreme stupidity and Trigun manga spoilers (this sounds familiar)
Briefing; Wolfwood and Vash meet up again in the evening to do a little catching up. And what's catching up without copious amounts of alcohol?
Evening came around quickly, and for the second night in a row, Wolfwood found himself in the military bar. He sat at the exact same table as he did last night, in the same chair that monopolized the entrance view. However, tonight he was there alone. Livio declared he wished to be elsewhere, something about exploring the rest of the camp. Wolfwood figured the kid just didn't want to get drunk again but had enough on his mind to not call Livio out on it.
On the table sat a large pitcher of the tomas piss they called beer, and in front of him was a tankard poured full. In the empty spot across from his, a second tankard, as empty as the seat, was placed.
The cigarette in Wolfwood's hand burned quietly, lit and forgotten. Its ashen half broke off and fell without notice to the tray below, letting a thin stream of gray smoke curl up from the liberated end. Staring at the empty chair before him, with his long legs stretched out beneath the table, Wolfwood waited, thinking.