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.
Robin snorted. "Right. Gods, and angels, and fucking demons. But for every one there's a hundred humans, all wandering around and self-important and short-sighted." Staring at his glass for a moment, Robin shook his head and tipped it back, swallowing the Scotch quickly. "Yes, absolutely, my dear Doctor. Lots and lots of fucking drinking
( ... )
He stared at his bottle for a while, hardly noticing when Robin's shattered on the wall. And for a while after that, when he resumed drinking, nothing was said. He summoned over a few more bottles (damn magic was handy sometimes), different liquors, different flavours, might as well sample everything it had to offer.
When he finished off another glass, he turned in his seat to face Robin. "You ever think that there are people in the universe who are just so unlucky that they're better off alone?" Shaking his head, he started on something different--he didn't even care to look at the bottle, just grabbing whatever was sitting there. "Like they're meant to be that way? That whatever forces are at work out there have it out for certain people? Sounds a bit like rubbish, but..."
Nodding emphatically, Robin gave up on his glass - didn't hold enough and he wasted valuable drinking time pouring - and took a swig directly from the bottle of whatever this was. It was damn strong. Good. "Welcome to a Puck's life, my dear Doctor," he laughed bitterly, bowing slightly. "Didn't used to be that way, at the beginning. But then the damn human race exploded, wiped us all nearly out, and I've been alone ever since. And every time I try, I get close..." He made a derisive motion with his hand and took another drink. "Well, what's fifty or eighty years in the grand scheme of things? Ha! Fifty would be nice, actually. Since most of the fucking humans I tend to fall in with have some sort of fucking hero complex."
Glaring at the bottle, Robin tipped it back and gulped down the alcohol. "The problem is," he continued after a moment, waving the now-empty bottle around as he ranted, "is that most of them are so damn short sighted. They piss and moan about things that we know will resolve themselves, given time.
( ... )
"Gotta admit," he said between drinks, "it's pretty noble, and really, it's more thought than some races give. But the problem with it really is that they muck it all up anyway. They think that everyone ought to see things their way, all the time, that they know exactly what they're doing all the time, and that anyone who disagrees is wrong or strange. But it only works in their own little society. That's what I always tell people, take 'em somewhere new, different planet, different times, new sets of morals and laws and thinking, but no, they're a rather close-minded bunch, for the most part. And that," he added, pointing at the lack of glass Robin was using, "looks like a better idea. Not like these bottles are going to stay full for long anyway, no sense in thinking something's going to be saved when it's not going to
( ... )
"Noble? It's insane, that's what it is! They charge about, get all heated up over what? Land or religion to some god who they don't even remember or sex or some high and mighty ideal that doesn't even make sense." He slammed the bottle on the bar, fingers gripping it tightly. "They have so little time - just a moment, a breath, a fucking second - and they waste it. Throw their lives away on things that don't matter. They are so eager to destroy themselves, these humans. So fucking willing to lay down everything, for no real reason at all."
Angrily grabbing another bottle, he took a drink. "Like this woman - woman, ha! Barely more than a girl - I know here. Got herself killed in some silly war that she was never going to win. The kicker is? She got to come back. Bully for her. But, gods' honest truth, I think she'd do it again if she had the chance! Damn crazy humans, all of them. Why wouldn't she learn her lesson - live whatever amount of years she can squeeze out of this world with her head down and her nose clean
( ... )
"...Well, yeah, when you put it that way... I meant other things that they do that's more sane, like the ones that stand up for rights and equality and environment. But then, they wouldn't need to do that if they didn't muck things up to begin with. They're such a young race, barely learned how to walk, and then they look at the stars and think they're superior to everything. See," he continued, pushing aside his empty bottle and opening up another one, "some of them get it. But it's always a small amount. It's true throughout history. They want to control everything, impose their laws on everyone, and things are always the same. People fighting over everything. A hundred years at most, really, and what do they do? Bicker and squabble and kill each other."
He spun the bottle around on the bar, idly glancing over the label. "I know a guy who came back when he died. Hell, I just...had this whole argument with him. That isn't supposed to happen. I mean, I've made some friends here like that, the last they know, they were
( ... )
Listening quietly as the Doctor talked, sipping at his - what in Bacchus' name was this, anyway? No matter. It was alcohol and it was one more step to drinking himself into oblivion. Seemed like a wonderful idea. "This girl, she's just one example. But she's a good one. Barely into her twenties, she dies. Whatever the reason, doesn't matter, just one blip in the grand scheme of things. And maybe her death makes a difference...maybe it doesn't. Hard to say, really, if her dying changed the course of history any more than her living would have. But then," he chuckled mirthlessly, "she comes back. And you're right - it shouldn't be. Fucks everything up. Humans, they aren't equipped to deal with such huge second chances. But, anyway, she lives again. Isn't handling it as well as she could, but better than most, I suppose." He took another drink and stared at his bottle. "She'd do it again. All over. She's told me so. So young and ideal and full of spitfire - like she could change anything. Like she's anything more
( ... )
"Most people don't get a second chance," he agreed with a hint of disgust. "Or if they do...it's just at living, not the things they've done. Not like those stories they make up, go back and see what it's like without you there and all your friends are miserable, and you come back loving life and all that. It's all crap. I've said it before, I'll say it again--the ordinary person, that's the most important thing ever. But damn if they don't go around wasting their time and their lives." He paused in his drinking and peered over at Robin with a bit more interest.
"Now, this woman you're talking about, she sounds like someone I know. We talking about Lily?" A sly little grin appeared on his face. "Yeah, well, I think she probably scared the devil himself if she was in hell. I think of all the people in this school I wouldn't want to piss off, she'd be in my top five. Rather like her as company. Don't rather like her boyfriend." With a scoff, he drank again
( ... )
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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When he finished off another glass, he turned in his seat to face Robin. "You ever think that there are people in the universe who are just so unlucky that they're better off alone?" Shaking his head, he started on something different--he didn't even care to look at the bottle, just grabbing whatever was sitting there. "Like they're meant to be that way? That whatever forces are at work out there have it out for certain people? Sounds a bit like rubbish, but..."
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Glaring at the bottle, Robin tipped it back and gulped down the alcohol. "The problem is," he continued after a moment, waving the now-empty bottle around as he ranted, "is that most of them are so damn short sighted. They piss and moan about things that we know will resolve themselves, given time. ( ... )
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Angrily grabbing another bottle, he took a drink. "Like this woman - woman, ha! Barely more than a girl - I know here. Got herself killed in some silly war that she was never going to win. The kicker is? She got to come back. Bully for her. But, gods' honest truth, I think she'd do it again if she had the chance! Damn crazy humans, all of them. Why wouldn't she learn her lesson - live whatever amount of years she can squeeze out of this world with her head down and her nose clean ( ... )
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He spun the bottle around on the bar, idly glancing over the label. "I know a guy who came back when he died. Hell, I just...had this whole argument with him. That isn't supposed to happen. I mean, I've made some friends here like that, the last they know, they were ( ... )
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"Now, this woman you're talking about, she sounds like someone I know. We talking about Lily?" A sly little grin appeared on his face. "Yeah, well, I think she probably scared the devil himself if she was in hell. I think of all the people in this school I wouldn't want to piss off, she'd be in my top five. Rather like her as company. Don't rather like her boyfriend." With a scoff, he drank again ( ... )
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