driftfleet | First Breath Mingle

Debating logic with a drunk, morose man isn't exactly advisable, Furiosa ... mostly because I simply want to put my head on your bosum and wail 'But that's not fair'.

[He wobbled for a moment, because her words ... struck home. He was afraid - and whenever he was afraid he did go hide in a bottle. It gave him liquid courage to face the shithole that his life had been in Westeros.

Or it had at least made him numb enough not to care.

His stubby fingers lovingly caress a leaf.]

I am afraid of going back. I am afraid of losing what I never really had - true friendships, people who actually care about me and not how much money I have. I do not want to go back to my world, Furiosa. I do not want to be hunted, and hated, and hunt and hate in kind.

[She listens. No, 'debating locig with a drunk' was usually a futile excersize, but it did make a man more honest and give her a chance to see their intentions; Imperators would boast, and she'd find their weakness. War boys would wax poetic and she'd find their inspiration. And here, Tyrion told her his fears. She listens, fully invested, giving his words a moment to settle given their gravity. She commiserated, because she had been there; thinking there would never be a way out. Seven thousand days she had tried and hoped and failed and tried again.]

[And even as she withdrew, even as she fell more fully into the life of an Imperator under Immortan Joe's rule, she had never stopped looking for that moment, and when it came, she grabbed it like a steel trap.]

[She reaches out and sets her hand on his shoulder, and looks him in the eye.] I hope you don't have to face that, but if you do; don't ever stop fighting. If you came out of that world, then there has to be others who are worthwhile; look for them. Don't ever lose hope. That's what you have to promise me.

[He had spent his entire life getting drunk, and trying to lose himself in that drink. He tended to wax poetic -- but he also became his most truthful, most vulnerable self in some aspects. He stroked the leaf again, before he answered with that same quiet voice as he looks up at her.]

If I have lost hope, Furiosa, I have lost everything. That much ... that much I know. No coin, no family, no one who loves me -- but I have always hoped for better. That is both a failing when I seek through hope more than I can ask, and a blessing ... for I never give up. It is a promise ... easily given.

[His mouth twisted.] Finding others who agree will be slightly more difficult.

[Furiosa smiles at him, small, but genuine.]

Then I will fight tooth and nail if the Atroma come for me.

[The Wives had proven themselves clever and quick-witted, and they had the benefit of the remaining Vuvalini. Perhaps the people here had a greater need for her? She brought her hand down and offered it to Tyrion to shake on their pact.]

[He looked at her for a long, long moment, before he took her hand and shook it firmly. Then after a moment, he took it up to his lips and kissed it gently. His voice came out ... hoarse.]

Thank you.

[That's ... unexpected. It takes Furiosa a few moments to process, but she doesn't let go. She reminds herself he's drunk. But, it was still a fruitful conversation.]

You're welcome.

[Her voice is soft, but steady. She gives his hand a little squeeze, then lets go, and reaches back for his wine bottle to hand it back to him.]

Maybe ... you'll want to cut down on this.

[But, she sets it down for him to make his own decision about.]

[He gives her a keen look, before his mouth twisted up into a wry smile as she puts the bottle in front of him.]

Maybe ... I shall.

[He sighed, heavily, before he dropped back into his seat.]

Maybe I'll just stare broodingly into space for awhile instead.

Don't turn into Max, I've already got my hands full with one.

[Teasing, of course. but also a light warning not to obsess himself with brooding. She stands to leave.] If you change your mind about brooding, let me know.

I would never. Even I cannot perfect that expression of sheer doom.

[Tyrion stated with a hint of teasing tartness, before he smirked at her.] No worries. Allow me to sober up a little and I shall come and thrash you with chess soon enough.

[She knows a little about where that expression comes from, the sort of things that's honed it into Max's being, so she can't exactly share Tyrion's lightness of it, remaining unreadable herself for a moment. She does smirk with his mention of chess, though]

It's no challenge if we already know who's going to win, but -- I'd be open to learning if you'd rather teach me instead.

Now that - I will be pleased to do.

[He gave her another bow.] I am a fierce taskmaster, though. If you are to learn from me, I shall make you one of the best so we have more players to go around.

[She smiles a little wider.]

I wouldn't ask for anything less.

[It would be good - welcome, even - to find something to pull and stretch herself in the quiet stillness of the Fleet.]

Well good, because you would get no quarter regardless.

[He grinned in turn, before he sat himself down.] ... clearly this is after the world stops spinning in the opposite direction.

[She chuckles, disappears for a moment, and returns with a cup of water. She sets it down within reach.]

Better get it to stop; you have a ship to tend to.

[Not that there's much going on, but ... she is leaving him in control.]

I'll check back later.

Tsk, that's you making a rather good point.

[He did, however, he took up a glass of water.]

Okay.

First Breath Mingle

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