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(no subject)

Who: Anyone! Everyone!
Broadcast: If you want!
Action: On the FLOOT LOOP stations! Or the planet!
When: WHENEVER time is an illusion.

[you know the drill! this is a mingle for the stations floating around the bizarre forest planet, or the forest planet itself!

want to get away from the forest illusions? are you stopping for supplies? were you just really craving a bowl of Floot Loops for some reason? whether you are backdating for pre-planet shenanigans or just want to mess around, this is the post for you!]

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[--and he barely has a moment to look subtly horrified before it's shot time!

he's at least had plenty of years to work out how to make this look clean and dignified despite wanting to gag. ugggh...]

[Heh. Heh. Classic. She snatches up another shotglass. This one is... blue. Blue raspberry.]

Three, two, one -

[he's still making a face, setting down his glass and opening his mouth to comment-- but oh, no, apparently it's already time for round number two.

he's quick to catch up, glaring just a little as he hurries to follow her lead.

he still knows he's going to win, but she's still going to make him suffer a little for it.]

[Shot glass down.]

They're calling that one blue raspberry. I dunno about you, but I've had gold and red, but never blue. Why blue?

[But does it matter? She picks another shot glass up. This one's pink. Strawberry!]

[he holds up a finger. just so he can snag a moment to finish swallowing and make a face--he hangs his tongue out with a satisfying ulgh. it's definitely black and forked, the inside of his mouth looks to currently be of a matching color, and his teeth are sharp. maybe it helps, maybe it's a defensive reaction.]

--It makes a much better popsicle than it does alcohol.

[okay, he got a comment in. he can continue now. he picks up the next drink.]

[She has no idea what a popsicle is, and she's blatantly staring at his tongue, but she gets it together enough to count down again:]

Three, two, one -

[And take the shot. And PICK THE NEXT ONE UP. Oooh man this stuff is gonna knock even her back fast, and Hange drinks hard, but it's going to be worth it to drink off some of the restlessness that's been bothering her since the music started.]

[he's reeling, but it's absolutely only because of the taste. though he can appreciate many wines and pleasantly-flavored adult beverages, he has never particularly enjoyed drinking alcohol. stuff that tastes like syrup and chemicals is even worse.

one eye squints closed on this round and just kind of stays that way. he'd wanted to keep track of the rise of poisons in her blood, but he's honestly too distracted and assaulted to pick it up.]

Don't you ever stop to breathe?

[ugh, he picks up the next one.]

I'm here to drink, not have a lady's luncheon.

[And she takes the shot!]

Oh, I would never mistake you for a lady.

[and he follows. ...oh ew, yellow is bad.]

[Four shots. She can feel 'em. Win or lose she feels better, at least, and she laughs at his remark like he meant it to be funny and not trying to rip her up. She picks up a green one...]

Three, two, one. [And shot.]

[it's meant to be funny in the way that he's not expecting it to actually stick. it's pretty obvious that resembling a lady is the absolute last thing she cares about.

and he shakes his head after the last one, interrupting the rhythm of the assembly line she's got leading into her face by snatching out to pick up the specific one that she's reaching for next]

--Can we at least make this one fun, at least?

[please, for pity's sake. he picks it up and kind of motions toward her face, showing that he'd feed this one to her. the fact that she could do the same to him is implied. she could pour it in his eye if she wanted.]

Aw! [She pauses in surprise enough for all of that to happen smoothly. ... Then that one really makes her laugh. That's not what she was expecting at all, but -]

Sure. I'm game. [She picks up another glass. She will refrain from pouring it in his eye, too.]

[see, look. they're friends.]

Just please remember that I like this shirt very much.

[and this stuff looks like it stains.

and if she's game, he'll delicately tip the thing into her mouth when she's ready. probably much slower than she'd like for a shot, but he doesn't want it to spill. maybe he's really, really hoping for the golden rule here.

...that, and he wants to make sure that the shot is somewhere around triple potency, and is going to give her a hell of a hangover in the morning, by the time it reaches her mouth.

at least she gets to look at his tongue again. turns out that thing is almost prehensile, and he wants to steady the incoming glass as much he can.]

[Real golden rule would dictate she'd pour it in his eye about now, right? Friends they are not.

She's patient, at least, for this. And careful enough pouring her shot into his mouth, although then she's promptly putting the glass down and trying to catch his tongue in her fingers. Too fascinating.]

[well! it's like trying to catch an eel--it slips right through her fingers, and his recoiling over her fingers in his mouth mixes well with his wincing over the alcohol.

he seems in better spirits now, though. it's probably just the alcohol getting to him, right?]

--Careful, I could accidentally burn your fingers right off, you know.

[How mysterious. She's getting drunk enough to get handsy, anyway. It doesn't look like she cares about the warning as she smiles narrowly at him.]

That'd be careless of you, wouldn't it? Another, now. [She picks up another glass.] Three, two, one.

[and he looks far more content to be leered at and mildly harassed. he's sure that he's going to get what he wants, and make her pay a little price for all her annoyances, and that makes him much more amiable.]

So, how do we know when the game is over? What's the official call?

[getting ready to take the shot while he asks his question.]

[She takes the shot and then looks him over, brows pulling down, expression keen. Being drunk makes her handsy and more reckless than usual, not stupid.]

What, not feeling it?

Not as much as you are.

[he leans forward, peering at her eyes.]

Look at your pupils go~

[They are pretty blown. She takes the shot in a distracted kind of way, fixating on his face and staring at his eyes in turn.]

I don't think I believe you that you're not reptilian, sorry.

[he neglects to follow her shot with one of his own, just to see if she's paying attention.]

And why is that? Reptiles don't get fevers, and you've seen that one first-hand.

That forked tongue seems pretty reptilian to me! Snakes have 'em like that... your teeth'd fit too.

[She pauses, squints, and then makes a gesture.]

Toss one back, you clammy lizard.

Oops...

[silly him, he must not have been paying attention. so, he makes amends and serves his time knocking back another one.

ugh. it still makes him grimace.]

...It's coincidental, I promise. Completely different branch of the pantheon.

If I believed you, I'm sure I'd find that convincing.

[She relaxes back in her seat. Ahhh, drunk and the entire world cradles you and spins you around at once. Delightful.]

Your kind has always been terrible at this kind of thing.

[he holds up fingers as he lists and explains.]

Animals are dross creations, but you can trace many of their family trees back to the gods that caused them. Reptiles are animals. Their creation follows the Hungry god, he is the father of reptiles, and... honestly, they came first.

And then comes us, via a completely different creation event--different god, different process, different time. We are not related at all.

[and though he may not be drunk in actuality, the ruse gives him an excuse to get a little chatty.]