driftfleet | [Video]

Entry tags:

[Video]

[Tyrion has looked better, truth be told. His mis-matched eyes were distant, sad, and a little red-rimmed. Winn's bottle of wine was open at his elbow, half empty, but it appeared that he had slowed down his consumption from the last time people saw him endulge.

Voice quiet, but steady, he spoke directly into the camera.]

For those who have, or have not been paying attention ... Daenyrs Stormborn Targaryan has gone home. Drogon, I believe, has gone with her.

[With that, he clicks off the feed. Fzzzzzt. Silence.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[True to his word, Tyrion pushes a bottle of wine into the elf's hand, and tips up his own in salute, before pouring himself another glass.]

Love, my friend, is a shithole.

[Simply stated.]

Which we keep falling into.

[Ah. Love. That...explains a lot. The elf exhales slowly, before taking a long drink.]

It is an exceptionally cruel mistress. Even more so here, where people can be taken from you so quickly.

[Tyrion stares at the cup in his hand, his mis-matched eyes saddened once more.]

It is quite true. We seem to be disappearing by the dozens these days.

I am sure it will even out. Or, if not, perhaps one day we will be sent home, also.

[Or they'll drift in space forever. That too. ]

...and how likely do you think that is?

[Was Tyrion's rather dry reply.]

[Tyrion if you're gonna bring sarcasm to the table, he's just gonna double down. ]

About as likely as you winning a competition for the tallest man.

[Tyrion had his glass halfway to his mouth, before he stopped and eyed Fenris.]

So right up there with your chances of winning Most Congenial, then.

[The elf smirks faintly. ]

I have the trophy in my room. Pride of place.

[Tyrion chuckles into his cup.]

Which I am sure you shine with the scarves of all the women who have tossed them at you as you sang them charming poetry outside their balconies, no less.

Oh yes. Plenty of them. A couple from some very poetry-keen men, too.

[Because even in his shitty jokes, he's inclusive! ]

See, and that is the mark of someone truly glorious. When you get the poetry keen men. I've only got the one so ...

[An elegant shrug.] Clearly I am less charming.

Perhaps with more practise, you will become better at it?

Clearly I going to have to practice. [Tyrion mused, before he batted his eyelashes at Fenris.

Because one good sarcastic turn deserves mock-flirtation.]

[The elf gives a soft snort of laughter at that.]

I'm afraid you will have to join the queue on that one.

Is it a long queue? Will I have to grab one of those little paper tickets?

[Tyrion stated, his smile quirking up at the corners.]

It's longer than I would have expected, honestly. The little paper tickets may be something I shall have to invest in.

You know ... I could make you a machine for that. Pops out little paper stubs. Line up here, to flirt with the great Fenris.

[He gestured broadly, his voice deepening with appropriate dramatic flair.]