(no subject)

[golden_lyre]

[OOM: If I could I would make you a raging river,
with angry rapids, supplied with rain,
so you could always meander
and forever be able to run away
without contending with myths wrongly interpreted, with pain.
A harsh wind.]

One of the odd (and sometimes quite nice) things about Milliways is that time works differently here.

So while it was only last night that Orpheus fled from the apparently terrifying prospect of dancing with someone he genuinely cared about, from the perspective of the bar, it's been about a week for him in Paris.

He's hardly eaten or showered since he left, and he's still slightly inebriated as he stumbles into the bar, reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. He seems surprised to find himself there, and stumbles into an empty table.

"Oops, sorry," he mutters, not looking to see who he might be apologizing to, and carries his guitar (fingers raw from playing for nearly a week straight) to the bar to get another drink.

The trouble with releasing your emotions in a torrent on the city of Paris is that it leaves you rather, well, drained.

Comments

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

[ooc: Can Orpheus handle more Steve or would that just make things worse?]

[golden_lyre]

[ooc: He can handle more Steve. :)]

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

[ooc: Then he shall have more Steve.]

"Oh, my God," Steve says when he sees Orpheus, and goes to his table at once.

And there he hesitates. When someone flees from you, generally they don't want to see you again.

"Orpheus?" he says quietly. "Are you okay?" Though he's, very obviously, not.

[golden_lyre]

"Hang on," Orpheus says, not glancing up from the bar as he orders himself a whiskey.

Once it's arrived, he turns to Steve with a very weary sort of smile. "Hi."

[thekidfrombrooklyn]

"Hi," Steve says, hands flexing like he wants to reach for Orpheus and can barely restrain himself. "I've been worried about you."

[golden_lyre]

"Have you?" Orpheus asks, still faintly smiling. "That's nice."

And then he frowns a bit. "How long was I gone?"

[onceaviking]

(ooc: not drained in any important way, says he - how about an Eric?)

[golden_lyre]

[ooc: Go for it!]

[onceaviking]

"Good evening, Orpheus," Eric says. leaning on the bar next to him. His voice is cool and calm. He's just making an observation after all. The man also looks disheveled, drunk, and somewhat depressed, but tired seemed like a better place to start.

Not a bad state to be in. At least from Eric's point of view.

[golden_lyre]

"Is it?" Orpheus asks, pausing a moment to ask the bar for a whiskey before turning to look at Eric.

"Oh, it's you." His voice is also calm, and a little bit gruff.

[onceaviking]

"It's me. Were you expecting someone else?"

[golden_lyre]

"Wasn't expecting anybody."

He leans heavily against the bar.

[onceaviking]

Eric cants his head a little, looking at him.

"Drinking to forget?" he asks. It seems plausible.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus smiles at that, the expression hazy.

"Can't remember."

[no_mere_marble]

There is a young man in classical clothing in the bar tonight, and when he sees Orpheus stumble his way through the bar, he steps out of his way.

Drunken men with musical instruments are probably to be expected in taverns. Even in this one.

[golden_lyre]

When Orpheus finally makes it to the bar, he taps the counter lightly, wincing when his fingers touch the wood.

"Whiskey please, sweetheart."

[no_mere_marble]

Antinoos looks at the guitar, which is rather unlike the musical instruments of his time.

Bigger than a normal kithara, to start with.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus is far too exhausted, far too wrapped up in himself to notice one young man eyeing his instrument.

He finishes his drink and taps the bar for a refill, wincing again.

[no_mere_marble]

That man is well and truly drunk, and on his way to becoming utterly legless. He's probably not notice if somebody stole his nose.

Tentatively, Antinoos touches a string on the guitar, to hear what kind of sound-unlike-a-kithara it makes.

[golden_lyre]

He notices that.

Orpheus' hand snakes out, quick as lightning, wrapping around the man's wrist before he reaches that string.

"Don't," he says, voice rough and low and just a little bit dangerous.

[alsoagreengrass]

Oh, Orpheus definitely stinks. And his fingers?

Scorpius nearly grabs his hand just to inspect those fingers.

" - What...?"

He'd been watching Orpheus' unsteady path to the bar and now he's standing near him, frowning in concern.

[golden_lyre]

Orpheus looks at him a moment before responding.

"Hi," he says, trying for a smile.

[alsoagreengrass]

Right, so. He's looking, but Scorpius is not sure he's seeing.

He snaps his fingers in front of Orpheus' nose.

"Hi. I think you need to sit down."

And he needs to order a very large pot of tea.

[golden_lyre]

He was going to go for whiskey, but maybe if Scorpius gets there first...

Orpheus' eyes follow his fingers, so that's...something.

"Yeah, okay."

He looks around for a seat. (There are several nearby.)

[alsoagreengrass]

"Over here," Scorpius says, sighing and directing him to the nearest.

"And I'm going to get you something to drink."