I drink; therefore I am. (OPEN)

[code_obsidian]

WHO: Garak and whoever shows up (Feel free to threadjack and ignore posting order, ya drunks.)
WHAT: Getting drunk, self medication, and a stunning display of healthy coping mechanisms.
WHERE: The bar.
WHEN: Early evening until.

Comments

[got_his_towel]

Ford was looking for something hoopy on the jukebox, a glass of hypervodka in his hand, when he heard someone come into the room. He turned and saw a Cardassian (though not the gul he'd met before) stalk up to the bar and begin drinking like it was his trade.

Ford turned back to the machine and settled on some Orion Light Opera, then went back to his stool, two down from the newcomer and looked at him, pouring a second kanar.

"Hi," Ford said.

[code_obsidian]

"Hello," Garak said amiably enough. He listened to the music selection, head tilted, for a moment or two and nodded his approval. It wasn't Klingon Opera. That was a blessing. Downing the kanar, he reached to pour himself a third without breaking stride. "What's your drink of choice today?" he asked. It was clear, whatever it was. He didn't think it was water judging by the glass it was in.

[got_his_towel]

"Hypervodka," Ford replied amicably. "I usually drink Gargle Blasters, but Zaphod made the best ones and he's gone now." He looked over at the Cardassian. "Kanar," he observed. "We had some at the party. Eventually."

[code_obsidian]

"Gargle Blasters," Garak said, eyes widening slightly. "I'm going to hazard a guess that you're not human. Most humans that I know would be dead from regular Gargle Blaster consumption." Or hypervodka, for that matter.

"Yes, kanar is my preferred drink, not the thick stuff, though." He waved a hand. "There was a party? A shame I missed it. I do like parties."

[got_his_towel]

"I'm from the Betelgeuse system," Ford told him. "We threw a beach party in my semi-cousin's suite. A Cardassian gul came," he explained helpfully. "Zaphod had to dig out the kanar, but the gul left before he had a drink of it. He had a couple of Gargle Blasters, then excused himself."

[code_obsidian]

"Oh, I see," Garak said, nodding. "I've never had the pleasure of visiting the system, but your reputations for good drink and good times precede you." He took a swallow of his kanar and gave no indication that the mention of someone who was almost undoubtedly Dukat caused him any discomfort. "Well," he said, "guls can be...stiff...in my experience. The military life. I can't say that such a thing would agree with me at all. I'm just a tailor. Perhaps when I've finished my bottle, I'll have a Gargle Blaster or three."

[got_his_towel]

"My people get around," Ford said with a shrug. "So the good times and good drinks do too."

He nodded in agreement about the military life. "I never had much interest in running around fighting about things," he said. "I like to travel though."

[code_obsidian]

"Me neither," Garak said emphatically. "I wouldn't be any good at it at all, anyway. I'm much better with a needle than a gun. Now travel is something I greatly enjoy. I've done a lot of it, particularly when I was younger, just getting established. Of course, you can subscribe to all the trade publications in the galaxy, but nothing beats seeing it all in person. In context, if you will." He downed the rest of the kanar and poured a fourth glass. The bottle's contents were steadily on the way down. "What did you do before finding yourself here?"

[got_his_towel]

Ford's job was a subject he always warmed to.

"I'm a contributing writer for the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," he said, pulling his credentials out of his satchel, which (as always) was slung across his shoulder. "Great way to see the galaxy," he added as he handed them over for Garak to inspect. "Hitchhiking, I mean. Well, as long as you don't have to hitch a ride with anyone too scary. Ended up on a Vogon ship not too long ago. Got thrown out of an airlock. I don't recommend it."

[code_obsidian]

"You know, I've done a bit of that, myself. Hitchhiking, I mean," he said, looking suitably impressed as he took a look at what he was offered. "It is. You never know what to expect. Vogons?" He made a soft tutting sound with his tongue. "Dreadful. Tell me they didn't subject you to what they call poetry."

[raised_fromhell]

For some reason, the hunter had managed in the time he had been in the hotel to suppress his nightmares. Of all the terrible things he had seen, lived, and done in Hell, of watching Jo bleed to death on a cold hardware store floor with a detonator in one hand, Ellen suicidal look as she handed him her shotgun, frozen bodies of thousands lying a mass grave, Cas's remains splattered across every wall of Chuck's kitchen...

It had been three nights of waking up from dead sleep, sheets coated in cold sweat, names of the dead a breath away from being cried aloud in the dark...he actually woke up screaming in the early hours of this morning. His subconscious decided to vacation in Hell and relearned the finer points of torture from his vantage point on the rack itself. All the while Alastair whispering in one ear as he twisted his razor deeper, "You left part of yourself back in the Pit. Let's see if we can get the two of you back together again, shall we?"He wasn't sure what had set it off, but Dean was sure if he didn't get any sleep

[code_obsidian]

"Friend of yours?" Garak asked very dryly as he looked over at Dean and the retreating bartender. "They leave something to be desired, although I'll give them one thing. They're prompt." He took a long swallow of his kanar, very nearly draining the glass. He was finally starting to feel a little warm inside. His years with the biochemical disaster of the wire had left him with an alcohol tolerance that would put even most Cardassians to shame. Now that he had the chance to drink without having to buy it, he intended to take full advantage.

[raised_fromhell]

Dean glanced over and realized that his company was both Garak the other Cardassian and Ford Prefect. Of course this night had to be complicated by the presence of aliens...and from the looks of the drinks...alien booze one more.

"I think the urge to put a bullet through his head doesn't exactly make us friends." The hunter replied, bringing his glass to his lips. He drank the contents in one gulp and started to pour himself another. "So, Garak, how you been since the garage?" He asked. "Hello, Ford." Dean added as an after thought, since he was interrupting their conversation.

[code_obsidian]

"For me, I'd have to say it's the utter lack of conversation skills and that vaguely stupefied look around the eyes. I like my company verbal and reasonably intelligent, oddly enough. Good, good. I can't complain. Work to do when I want it and free alcohol when I'm tired of working." He downed the last little bit of the kanar. Before he could think to ask for them, the tender brought him two Gargle Blasters and set them beside his bottle. "You see? Prompt."

[torchwood_doc]

After going up and down in the lift several times (to make sure he wasn't going to get stuck again- or at least that was what he kept telling himself, nothing to do with hoping Kaylee might turn up,) he wandered the corridors aimlessly for a while before the door to the bar appeared. Just what he needed, plenty of booze.

Julian had been right about the memories coming back, the only trouble was, they were very specific ones that repeated over and over again. Under normal circumstances, constantly seeing a naked woman smiling up at him would have been his idea of Shangri-La, unfortunately she was unavailable until he remembered a bit more than... shit, his eyelashes fluttered- not again! Cold showers had lost their effect, which meant that the only drowning was going to have to be alcohol related.

Pushing open the door, he made a bee-line for the bar, seemed like quite a few others had arrived before him with the same idea!

[got_his_towel]

Ford was glad of the interruption. Discussing his afternoon sentenced to Vogon poetry made being pushed out a Vogon airlock seem like a relief.

He raised a hand in a bit of a wave when Dean said hello to him, then eyed Garak's new Gargle Blasters with a bit of envy, though he still didn't want one. For possibly the first time in his life. He was still savouring that last one he'd had. The one Zaphod had left behind. He would stick to plain hypervodka.

He turned around when he heard the door open again. Doctor Owen. Well, at least the aliens weren't outnumbered that evening. The song on the jukebox ended and he slid off his stool, going over to the machine with his glass to choose another.