[RP: nexus]

[w0tcha]

It's the sort of long summer afternoon that's meant for relaxing -- and Will is doing just that. It's not entirely his choice -- Bran caught him doing the dishes, and Will found himself unceremoniously bundled out of the house with a blanket, radio and book and told not to return until he'd gone and done nothing for a good few hours. Bemused, but

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[le_desirous]

Sagramore is fairly sober at the moment, but the truth is that after the housewarming he went home and got drunk and he's been drunk nearly straight ever since. The truth is that it was always going to come down to this, that he's probably bound to keep on drinking this way until it kills him, which shouldn't take very long at the rate he's going and with his sickness. Nothing's really going to change that.

And he's tired; as usual he's feeling his age, and to-day particularly it's making him miss the way things were, back perhaps when he was younger and meeting Courfeyrac, or possibly back at sixteen, falling into Mordred's bed with an ease that wasn't practised. You can't have those things back, and as much as he's making worse for himself he isn't likely to see them again.

He lifts a hand to greet Will half-heartedly, the circles under his eyes extraordinarily pronounced, his gait painful, his dark skin bruised.

"Afternoon, gyerek."

[w0tcha]

Will's not expecting company, but somehow he's not surprised, leaning back and shading his eyes to look up at Sagramore. "Afternoon, sir."

Sagramore's definitely looking worse than he was when Will last saw him; not merely the housewarming either and it's that contrast that is uppermost in Will's mind now. "You look terrible."

[le_desirous]

He laughs. "That's why I'm staying out of the way. I've no desire to be sworn at by my daughter. May I sit with you?"

[w0tcha]

"Of course." Will shifts to make space on the blanket. "I've been sent out to rest myself," he says, waving a hand to explain the radio, book and blanket. "I didn't know you had a daughter."

[le_desirous]

"No, I suppose you didn't meet her when you saw my home. She's a good girl, but she doesn't have much patience for me when I'm not well." He sits, wincing a little.

[w0tcha]

"There was rather a lot going on at the time," Will agrees, thankful that if Sagramore was aware enough to notice Bran's blatant interest, he doesn't seem inclined to make a thing of it. "She's young, then?"

[le_desirous]

"Twenty, I suppose. A good girl. Her name's Annuska."

[w0tcha]

"You suppose? Are we likely to run into her?" It's a fair question given the Nexus and Will hopes that Sagramore sees that after the housewarming, unexpected surprises are not exactly a good thing.

[le_desirous]

"She's here rather often, so I expect you will. She looks like her mother--but then that won't mean anything to you. She's dark, she's very cheerful." Helloooo understatement.

[w0tcha]

"Sounds a bit like Annika," Will says idly. "She made us drink bubble tea." He's got enough sisters of his own not to be very interested in other people's girls except for comparison.

[le_desirous]

"I have no idea. But I expect you will see her at some time or another." He rubs his eyes carefully--they hurt, as well they might--and the faint smell of palinka wafts from him.

[w0tcha]

"Might be an idea to warn Bran then," Wills says mostly to himself rather than Sagramore. He's preoccupied trying to identify that strange smell of fruit -- he's never encountered palinka, but he recognises it all the same -- one of the perks of being an Old One is being your own Wikipedia. "Would she approve of that?"

[le_desirous]

"Approve of what? --Oh, the drink? Of course not."

[w0tcha]

"So you're avoiding home instead?" Will shakes his head. "Children talk about running away from home, but I think they'd be shocked to know adults do it."

[le_desirous]

"Don't you moralise at me, boy," easily enough.

[w0tcha]

"I'm not," Will says. "Or at least, I don't mean to be. But when you're our age, it's very easy to say things or make judgements you might not make if you knew more."