He expected that he wouldn't be turned down. A few times already he'd rethought this, but hell, drinking until he was about passed out sounded like the best option (well, not 'best' as in 'most logical', but 'best' as in 'feels right').
The Doctor had an impeccable ability to be either exactly on time or very, very late (by, say, a few centuries). Having little better to do than glance at his watch and find that only five minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked at it (all right, he could've apologized to Sarah Jane, or to Jack, or to everyone else, but most of all to Sarah Jane), this time he was on time--slipping into Ravenclaw at exactly eight. One of these days, he figured, something would happen to make people actually close it, but he supposed that if the only ones that took the opportunity to enter were people that caused very little trouble, that was the reason it seemed nearly perpetually open (at least when there were parties going on).
He took a seat at the bar (yes, at the bar this time, though one can be
( ... )
Wandering down, his expression one of mild boredom, Robin scanned the room for the Doctor. In fact, the Puck had been feeling at loose ends and generally just frustrated as of late. He'd spent a week or so in the Forbidden Forest, but had gotten restless and returned to the castle, only to find that the feeling hadn't faded. Studying in frantic bursts of energy and then lying around, drinking by himself in his room, Robin had welcomed the Doctor's owl. At least he'd have someone to bitch talk with while he attempted to prove that Pucks couldn't ruin their livers
( ... )
He nodded at Robin, grabbing the bottle for himself and pouring a drink. "Me, oh, been just peachy, yeah." Dripping with sarcasm, of course. "Almost surprised Bacchus isn't a student here. Turn around, and there's someone else, a god or demon or angel or something, someone that just ought not to exist. Huh."
He slid the bottle back at Robin and instead summoned his own from behind the bar. "Best have our own bottles so we don't end up fighting over it. Gonna be a lot of drinking tonight. Nice lot of drinking, good and drunk and stumbling around like an idiot. Sounds fun, that. Don't normally do that; usually telling other people not to." With a sigh, he downed his drink, refilling it eagerly.
"There's no such thing as a true 'second chance'," Robin agreed, getting up and going to the back of the bar. Hmm...martinis. He wanted martinis. As he mixed his drink, he shook his head ruefully. "You don't get to re-do anything. Ever. It's done, it's over, you have to move on. But these humans don't get it. I mean, take me for example. I can afford to spend some time pissing and moaning about something. What's a few months to me? A few years, even? Nothing." He snapped his fingers dismissively. "Like a beat of a heart, a maiden's sigh - here, gone, nothing. But to a human, a few months could be a lifetime, and yet they waste it. Just...idiots, the entire lot of them." Shaking the martini, Robin then poured it into a glass. Not bothering to garnish it, he downed it quickly and then proceeded to make another
( ... )
"Now, see," the Doctor replied after gulping down one of his drinks thoughtfully, "that sounds fairly familiar. You know...time used to be so stable. Nope, couldn't change it, was unheard of. And now, hey, I'll bend to the whims of some stupid little nineteen-year-old girl who wanted to see her father before he died when she was just a baby. Wanna know what happened with that?" The bottles couldn't be emptied fast enough, grabbing this one and that and mixing a few various other items into whatever the hell he was making (not that he would've known what it was if one had asked him--just an attempt at making something so potent that it would knock him out with a whiff. Not that that was going to happen). "She flinched. Ran away. Couldn't watch her old man die, and then you know what she did? She asked me for a second chance. Oh, now, me, hell, I'm all about second chances, really. Rather give some incredibly evil force in the universe a chance to right itself rather than make sure it doesn't exist outright or somesuch. But
( ... )
He pushed a few bottles aside and hopped up onto the bar itself. Wouldn't do to stand while getting drunk lest he stumble around and look stupid. Which wasn't to say that he wouldn't anyway once he did get drunk (oh, he could certainly feel the effects now starting), but it at least reduced the chances of, say, falling over or tripping over his own feet. "Now, Lily, she's a fine woman, yeah. I don't know. Sometimes it's the idealism that I like most about Humanity. They've got so much potential that they just squander. I like her, though. Sort of...sort of like a best friend kind of thing, yeah? I mean...she's got a great sense of humour, even if her taste in men isn't. Bright, very bright. And strong. I've always meant to invite her to tea. But, instead, sitting here with you. And alcohol. Better than lying around, staring at the stars and pondering existence. In fact, she's sort of tried to give me a bit of dating advice before
( ... )
Comments 15
Well, I never turn down a drink. Or company. Or the chance to talk with someone whose life expectancy is longer than my scotch.
I'll be in the bar, say, eightish? Just come on in - I'll prop the door open. No one ever shuts the damn thing, anyway.
- R. Goodfellow
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The Doctor had an impeccable ability to be either exactly on time or very, very late (by, say, a few centuries). Having little better to do than glance at his watch and find that only five minutes had passed since the last time he'd looked at it (all right, he could've apologized to Sarah Jane, or to Jack, or to everyone else, but most of all to Sarah Jane), this time he was on time--slipping into Ravenclaw at exactly eight. One of these days, he figured, something would happen to make people actually close it, but he supposed that if the only ones that took the opportunity to enter were people that caused very little trouble, that was the reason it seemed nearly perpetually open (at least when there were parties going on).
He took a seat at the bar (yes, at the bar this time, though one can be ( ... )
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He slid the bottle back at Robin and instead summoned his own from behind the bar. "Best have our own bottles so we don't end up fighting over it. Gonna be a lot of drinking tonight. Nice lot of drinking, good and drunk and stumbling around like an idiot. Sounds fun, that. Don't normally do that; usually telling other people not to." With a sigh, he downed his drink, refilling it eagerly.
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