(Untitled)

[bloody_awful]

Another day, another hangover, another Hair of the Dog that bit him... and that was one hell of a nasty dog. Demonically possessed bulldog, red eyes, frothing, and let's not even begin to think about the toxic farting

Comments

[a1enzo]

[[OOC: Third time's the charm, right?]]

"Hey! Mr. Constant!" Enzo comes running up, looking around nervously to make sure there are no adult sprites in sight. "I got you that comic."

[bloody_awful]

[OOC: Soooo sorry we missed each other! I saw your tags but with one thing or another... well, I'm an arse. Thanks for being persistent!]

John looks up. Kids. Kids and bunnies, bulldogs and hangovers. He takes a long pull of his pint and tries to smile. It looks kinda bleary. "Hey kid. Not so loud, all right then?"

A bottle of aspirin appears on the Bar. John takes a couple and washes them down with more Guinness.

[a1enzo]

Enzo was actually speaking that last part in a conspiratorial undertone, but when it comes to hangovers, volume is relative. He obligingly lowers it to a whisper: "Sorry. You all right?"

[bloody_awful]

John chuckles. "I will be. Nothing I haven't been through before, except the dog bite. No, strike that. I've been through that before as well."

He realizes he might be rambling. "Ah right. Grab yourself a seat and let's see that book. You want a drink or something?"

[broodingbacchus]

...yeah, Imri knows that feeling from the inside.

A sympathetic glance from the far-too-pretty D'Angeline boy as he quietly orders and sits on a nearby barstool.

Hey, it's cheaper than wine, all right? And fizzlier!

[bloody_awful]

Now this is more like it. John loves pretty boys, even if they're teetotalers.

He summons up a bit more energy and a bleary smile. "Morning, sunshine."

[broodingbacchus]

Imriel would facepalm, but it'd be impolite, and he's trying to be less of a prissy bastard lately.

"Good morning," he says instead, cordially and with reasonable cheer.

[bloody_awful]

"Good is a relative term. But I'm still above ground, so yeah, good'll do." He pauses. "Sorry, have we met? I'm a bit up on the slowtake this morning."

[mycursedface]

On one hand, she can taste that ashtray. Taste and smell and the line between them is blurred with snakes. Her snakes are, for the record, remaining very, very still amongst her hair, and keeping their tongues in.

On the other, it wouldn't be polite to say anything, and even if she is a monster who has been known to eat humans, her daddy raised her to be polite.

So when the winged Gorgon walks over to the Bar to order a drink, she very, very carefully doesn't say a word.

(she's thinking it, though, and the snakes are hissing with it)

[bloody_awful]

Winged Gorgons are all right with John, as long as they don't give him shit about smoking. He glances over at her, then quickly looks back down at his drink, not wanting to make eye contact. But he nods and grunts in what may pass for a greeting.

[mycursedface]

It's one of those days; her gesture could be legimately described as a facepalm.

Her voice a little muffled,

"The curse doesn't work like that."

[bloody_awful]

John looks up at her then. "Thanks for the info," he says with a bleary smile. "My memory isn't up to snuff at the moment."

[royal_guarantor]

This boy was a good few years older when John last saw him. He's little more than a child, now, and giving John's drink a very dubious look from further down the bar.

[bloody_awful]

John is not at his best this morning, so even if he would ordinarily remember the boy, he might not at the moment.

John frowns slightly, but nods and grunts a hello. It's always best to be sociable in Milliways.

[royal_guarantor]

"Hello", Roshaun returns with stiff regal politeness.

Beat. "What is that you're drinking?"

[bloody_awful]

John grins and raises his glass. "Hair of the dog. Literally."