driftfleet | 002; action;

Entry tags:

002; action;

Who: Alistair and anyone who wants to get shitfaced.
Broadcast: Nope.
Action: Varric's bar on the Iskaulit.
When: Tonight. All night. PONY UP.
WARNING: Depending on how conversations go, drunk!Alistair may make vague references to child neglect/abuse, or possibly dubiously consensual sex. Other topics might include violence and extreme daddy issues. Let me know if you want me to specifically avoid any of that!

[ For all intents and purposes, Alistair feels utterly alone. Sure, there are several people in the fleet who know him, but he doesn't seem to know any of them, and so it's weird. And if he's being honest with himself, he was feeling pretty lonely well before he got here. All of the friends he made during the Blight, when they were all on the road together, pretty much left after it ended, after his coronation. Even Amell ran off somewhere with Leliana, leaving him to the tender mercies of his uncle, his late brother's widow, and the rest of the Fereldan nobility.

He's been keeping up a cheerful face - he doesn't really know how to do anything else - but what with being here, learning about things he probably shouldn't have learned about, and having a little bit of money from - somewhere, he's finally just. Showed up to the bar. Varric's is the closest thing to familiar he can find, so he's drinking whatever ale his money can buy. And he's not stopping until the money runs out or he is insensible on the floor. ]

Another. Please.

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[ in the few days since she had begun working at the space bar, lioriley learned quickly that there were a lot of different types of people that came into seedy places like this. rowdy drunks, angry brawlers, and people like alistair that just looked like they were having a rough time just by the expression on his face and the amount of booze he was consuming in such a short amount of time.

she let the first few drinks slide, glanced at him as she passed — was he familiar? vaguely. maybe she had seen him on the network before and hadn't had the chance to speak with him — to make sure he was all right as she delivered drinks to other tables. it was only when she herself was delivering him his... uh. fifth? six? drink that she stopped and asked: ]

Is everything all right, ser?

[Riona quietly meanders into the bar, nursing a split lip and a small gash above her brow, along with other hidden injuries. They were the earnings of her last underground fighting bout, along with a nice chunk of credits. But now that she finally could afford a weapon, she decided to spend her credits elsewhere: on alcohol. Partly to celebrate her final fight, partly to ease the pain, and partly to forget about everything that had been going on as of late.

Funnily enough, she doesn't notice Alistair right away. She orders a gin and tonic, a drink she only learned about just recently. It's stronger than beer and a bit tastier. It's not until she's halfway through the drink before she spots her not!husband across the bar.

He isn't "her" Alistair, but she can read him just the same, and she can tell something is not right. Of course, being new here is not easy; she's still adjusting herself. Yet she feels there's more to it than that. And she can't ignore it, no matter how much she's afraid of asking what might be wrong.

So she knocks back her drink before ordering another one. When she gets it, she slides off her stool and meanders over to Alistair. She offers him her drink with a sympathetic smile.]

This is stronger than what you've got and can do the job a bit quicker.

[ Alistair is so busy wallowing in his own little pity party that he almost doesn't realize he's being addressed. And, well, okay, it might also be that he's a few sheets to the wind, so he's even slower on the uptake than usual. ]

Who, me? Oh. 's fine.

[ He pauses, acts like he's going to let her go, and then - ]

You ever learn anything about your own future?

[ Riona's sudden appearance startles Alistair a little. He peers at the drink for a moment, as though considering whether to give it a try, and then takes a tentative sip.

Well. It's no worse than some of the ale he's had in the past.

And then he looks up and sees her face. A frown of concern creases his brow. ]

What happened?

[Steve's not drunk. He can't actually get drunk, and in any case he's not exactly trying to. He's been coming here semi-regularly, mostly for the chance to stretch his legs off his ship, and he's been going over a great deal of paperwork at one of the tables in the back, drinking soda water. The hours pass, and when he's done as much work as he cares to for the evening he gets up, gathers his files in one hand and his plates in the other (his Ma'd turn over in her grave if he didn't bus his own) and makes his way to the bar to drop the latter off.

But in the realm of the drunk, the sober man is very rarely king and so, in trying to deftly avoid another patron that's gotten a little too inured of the drink, Steve sidesteps and promptly bumps directly into Alistair in the process. The plates stay aloft, but the folder he's carrying scatters paper in every which direction. He doesn't fuss over it, instead he takes the time to slide his dishes onto the bartop, and then,]

Ah-- sorry about that.

[And then he's stooping down to collect the errant sheets. Some are covered in nothing so offensive as neat Palmer script, others are doodles or drawings (one is of a dragon, articulately drawn but being menaced by a stick figure where he'd run out of the drive to finish it) or diagrams. One's a map of the nearby station, and that's the first one he reaches for, more accident than design.]

[Nita had not expected the answer to her flippant "where's a girl gotta go to get a drink around this dump?" question to provide a real answer, but would you look at that, here she is, glancing around Varric's bar with approval.

Which is bad news for Varric, because her taste is godawful.]

Alistair! Hey!

[She slides in next to him, and then, because drinking alone is rarely a good sign and reading people is something she does very, very well:]

You okay?

[It hadn't been her intention to sneak up on him. Though normally she's wearing something a bit more audible, like armor or leather, rather than the soft clothes she's in now.

His question prompts her to duck her head a bit, almost shyly. Her injuries didn't register with her when she came over to talk to him.]

Oh, ah, nothing bad. Just a bit of competitive fighting.

[She tries to dismiss it with a little laugh and shrug.]

Ogres have done worse to me. How do you find the drink? If you don't like it you don't have to drink it.

You sure you should keep drinking?

[Nami looks at him sideways, eyebrows raised, but for now at least she's happy to pour him another ale, sliding it over the countertop. Hello, I'll be your bartender for the day.] Must've been a pretty shitty day.

Oh, no. That was probably my fault.

[ Even a few sheets to the wind, Alistair is all politeness, bending over to try and help the stranger pick up the scattered papers, even if he doesn't do a terribly good job of it. ]

Did you draw these yourself? I fought a dragon once.

Hiiiiiiiii. I'm... not okay, but it's all right. I've been worse, you know. I have lots of ale at least!

[ Alistair waves Nita over. Share his ale! It's fine. Everything is fine. ]

[ That's never how it worked with him and Solona. But Solona is a mage. ]

It's my job to take the hits, y'know.

[ He takes another sip of the drink. ]

's not bad. What's it called?

[ Alistair takes this question seriously, at least for a brief moment, and then he shrugs. ]

I'm still thinking straight, so yeah, I want to keep drinking. And - more like a shitty six months, but who's counting?

[Everything is clearly not fine, but the more of Alistair's beer she's drinking the less of a hangover he's going to have in the morning...assuming the bartender has the sense to cut him off while he can still walk.

She flips her ponytail back over her shoulder before it can drag through the various questionable liquids that end up on a bartop, and sits down beside Alistair.]

Dude, this is the kind of "all right" that ends with you informing complete strangers you love them and then needing to be carried home.

[She gives him A Look.]

Two issues with that. One, warrior here. I can take a pounding as well as you can. Two, you weren't exactly there to take said hits, so...

[She hops up onto a barstool next to him and flags down the bartender to get another drink for herself.]

Gin and tonic. It's rather tame compared to some of the other drinks I've seen offered.

[ If that's supposed to warn him off his present course, well. It's probably not going to work. ]

What's wrong with that? I mean, if the stranger is pretty and doesn't slap you...

Well, it was my job.

[ Nothing really seems to be his job anymore. ]

Not bad. Probably can't afford any more, though. 's why I'm drinking the ale.

[...oh no, not that face. OH NO.]

And you did it well. There are lots of security stints on the station if you still want to be someone's shield.

[Ugh, it's a paltry attempt at boosting his spirits. Unfortunately, it's not like people get beat up around here a lot, not like when they were traveling to fight the Blight.]

Oh, fear not good sir.

[She pulls out her coinpurse, stuffed to the brim with credit chips, and plunks it down onto the bar.]

I've got you there.

[ a lot of strange people have asked equally as strange questions in this bar, but out of all the sudden things he could have said — that had to be the oddest. the elf blinks owlishly in response, silent for a moment as she considers how to even answer that. ]

I... cannot say I have, no. [ another pause. and then: ] Have you?

I suppose. But I'd probably have to carry one of those guns. I don't like those. They're so loud!

[ He watches her plop the coin purse down on the bar curiously for a moment. That probably would get him good and soused, but - ]

I don't need your money.

Yes, and I wish I hadn't.

[ He makes a face and takes another swig of his drink. ]

Sorry, I'm being rude, aren't I? Haven't even introduced myself. Alistair. I'm Alistair.

[ And then he finally, really looks at her. ]

...And you're blue.

There is something called a bouncer. They toss rowdy folk out of the bars and clubs on the station. No weapons allowed. Might be a little more up your alley.

[Her drink finally comes and she nods in thanks. She knocks back some of it, shuddering at the after taste before setting it down.]

No, but I'm offering, and besides, it's not just for you. I plan on pulling an Oghren, too. Might as well do it together. [Not a good idea if she's going to keep talking to him, but she can't ignore him.] You look like you need a few. Are you not settling in well on your ship, or is it something else?

[This place is much better than the hustle and bustle of the station. Ciri's not sure if she wants to drink, not when money is short and the jobs offered are more stand around and look scary instead of taking care of monsters. Something she'll have to adjust to, perhaps. Regardless, she spots a somewhat-familiar form at the bar and sidles up next to him.]

Hello, Alistair.

That would probably be better than sitting around doing nothing.

[ He'll take her advice, after he gets through the hangover tonight will inevitably result in. ]

You don't want to hear my sob story. Why don't you tell me yours, instead? Why're you pulling an Oghren?

Ciri! [ He's rather falsely cheerful at the sight of her, and he gives her a broad smile as she sits next to him. ]

Here for a drink? Of course you are, so am I. Maybe more than one. More than that.

[She leans away slightly, if only because the broad smile is a little alarming in addition to the words.]

Special occasion?

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002; action;

no need to avoid any of those topics btw

HIT ME WITH ALL THE ISSUES

\o/

yessssssss

no worries re: any possible issues that come up

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