(no subject)
To say Nikola was not in a good mood was to say that John Druitt was nothing more than a very naughty boy. Shirt dishevelled, cravat undone and jacket unbuttoned, Nikola was draped across a table glass in one hand and bottle in the other. Pouring himself another glass, Nikola let the alcohol almost spill all over himself before he right the glass and placed the bottle on the table, almost sending it flying.
Nikola was drunk, Nikola was in a bad mood and Nikola was... hurt. He was Helen's oldest friend, she was his best friend and the one person he trusted more than any other and she- she- she had gotten married to that prat. And she had not invited him. Nikola wasn't sure what hurt more the fact she had married someone else or the fact she didn't trust him enough. Either way Nikola was going to drink his cares away.
"What sort of a name is Magnus-Zimmerman anyway? BLOODY CONCUBINE HIJACKING MY FRIEND, NO ONE HIJACKS NIKOLA TESLA!" Nikola yelled before looking at his glass of wine. Drinking another mouthful, Nikola slumped inelegantly in his chair forgetting all about what he was yelling for.
Nikola was drunk, Nikola was in a bad mood and Nikola was... hurt. He was Helen's oldest friend, she was his best friend and the one person he trusted more than any other and she- she- she had gotten married to that prat. And she had not invited him. Nikola wasn't sure what hurt more the fact she had married someone else or the fact she didn't trust him enough. Either way Nikola was going to drink his cares away.
"What sort of a name is Magnus-Zimmerman anyway? BLOODY CONCUBINE HIJACKING MY FRIEND, NO ONE HIJACKS NIKOLA TESLA!" Nikola yelled before looking at his glass of wine. Drinking another mouthful, Nikola slumped inelegantly in his chair forgetting all about what he was yelling for.