(no subject)

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede back his way into the bar when he comes in today, holding the front of his trousers closed and laughing.

When he turns around and sees the bar the laugh fades a little, because this isn't what he'd expected to back into (and he's glad he's as clothed as he is) and he sighs a little, picking through the tables in his bare feet towards the bathrooms. When he comes back out he's considerably more straightened up, hair brushed slightly more neatly, and he sits at the bar for something to drink and a cigarette.

He's certainly interruptable.

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee catches sight of Ganymede as he enters, thinking back on all the times when that would happen to him. Dressing room shenanigans. Door to Milliways. Whoops, must'nt be indecent.

A strange thing to be nostalgic for, but those were good times.

He rises from the corner of his booth and approaches Ganymede, an unlit cigarette between his fingers.

"Got a light, darling?"

Emcee may be more quiet and subdued than usual, modestly dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar open, black trousers with suspenders. The only makeup he's wearing is eyeliner.

[the_cupbearer]

The smile returns when he sees Emcee, and lifts a match from the book he'd been given towards him.

"Certainly," he says easily, sitting comfortably shirtless. "How are you, my dear?" he asks. "You look...subdued." Like he could use a break from his like, to be honest.

[i_am_your_host]

Ah, to be so comfortably shirtless in public again. Who even was that person?

"Danke," he murmurs, bending close to light the end of his cigarette on the match flame. Taking a few puffs, he leans back, and exhales a jet of smoke on a sigh.

"I am well. And funnily enough, 'subdued' was exactly the look I was going for," he adds with a wry chuckle. "How have you been?"

[the_cupbearer]

"You're welcome," he says, drawing the match back to light his own, though he holds the smoke in until he speaks. "Why were you going for subdued?" Ganymede asks.

He doesn't dislike the look on him; it's a little more normal, but still manages rakish. "I've been alright. A little bored, to be honest, which is why you saw me come in the way I did. Photoshoot." Pornographic photoshoot, to be specific.

[i_am_your_host]

"Just one of my moods," he says with a demure little smile.

His gaze flicks up and down Ganymede's body, and he doesn't dislike his look either.

"How fun that must be! For a magazine?" The corner of Emcee's lip twitches upward in a knowing smirk.

[the_cupbearer]

"It's an interesting look on you," Ganymede says, with a smile that gives away his next answer even before he looks down at himself, bare-chested and unshaven, and in skintight leather jeans laced up the sides with black satin ribbons.

"In a manner of speaking," he admits. "Half striptease, half sex. I'll bring you the magazine if you want to see it, unless you'd like to see the rest of the photoshoot early."

[i_am_your_host]

"Interesting because it's probably the most clothed you've ever seen me?" he quips.

He then tilts his head at the offer, a familiar spark lighting up his dark eyes.

"Oh, of course I would love to see the magazine. But what do you mean--see the photoshoot?"

[the_cupbearer]

"Something like that," he laughs.

"I mean I'd take you back with me if you wanted to watch. We could stay late and have a photo shoot of our own."

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks. He's pretty sure his natural paleness has turned a flaming pink as he blushes.

"--Me?" he half-laughs with surprise. "Well, yes, I would definitely like to watch you. Thank you. As long as you can explain my suddenly being there...?"

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric comes bouncing down the stairs, smiling happily and looking much calmer and more together. He laughs to see Ganymede coming in holding onto his clothes.

He waits till Ganymede has tidied himself up before joining him at the bar. "Hello, my friend. I have to thank you. Your advice was very sound."

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede is smiling again by the time Sinric comes to him, flicking his thumb over the end of his cigarette idly. "Was it?" he asks. "I'm glad, then, you look better. Happier. Have you spoken to Athelstan and Ragnar?"

[thewidewideworld]

"I feel better." He nods, "My journey into the forest helped greatly. I feel more sure of myself than I did before."

"I've spoken with Ragnar but not with Athelstan. Athelstan has been... hard to reach of late. But I asked the bar for new rooms and she provided quite beyond anything I could have imagined."

[the_cupbearer]

"That's good to hear," he says, "What did Ragnar have to say?"

Ganymede isn't overly familiar with his lovers being distant, if only because he tends to keep relationships physical until he's sure of some kind of committment, if not exclusivity.

[thewidewideworld]

"He understood and was glad to share my first night in my new rooms. They are rather extravagant but lovely. The ceilings slope and arch to echo sound in complex and wonderful ways. A spent a day doing nothing but practicing music to explore all the different tones."

[the_cupbearer]

"It sounds beautiful," Ganymede says. "Someday I would love to play with your singing there, should you want to."

He has lovely flutes, though he's hesitant to show some of them to Sinric without knowing what the blond can tell about them, given his new changes.

[thewidewideworld]

"I would like that very much. I thought perhaps you and Hannibal might join me one evening, to share music and pleasurable company."

[the_cupbearer]

"I'm sure we'd all like that," Ganymede says with a soft smile. "At risk of it sounding like a horrible innuendo I have a bone flute that would sound lovely with your voice."

[themerlin]

Merlin smiled as he wandered through the bar, thinking on many things. When he spotted 'Alan', he smiled, wider, and headed in that direction. He wore a simple outfit all in black that clung to every curve, and his eyes danced, red, gold, and black, and back to normal, as he stepped to right behind a spot near the man, ordering an ale, and then nodding to the other man.

"Pardon me, sir, is this seat open?" His words mirrored his previous greeting, closely.

[the_cupbearer]

He's gotten that greeting many, many times before, and at first it doesn't sound like anything special: Ganymede turns his head and skimmed over the man, taking in his face and his eyes in particular. They were piercing no matter what color they were when he looked, and were so in such a manner that it sent a mild shiver up his spine, it reminded him of Zeus.

"...It is," he said slowly.

[themerlin]

"How goes your day, good sir?"

Merlin settled to the seat them, and from the bar came a decanter, duplicate to the one Merlin himself usually made. It made Merlin grin as two cups appeared.

"Drink?"

He poured himself one, and downed it, enjoying the taste of it, of old.

[the_cupbearer]

Ganymede lifted a brow as the man sat down, taking in his appearance and the drink: he was almost never offered one, especially by people who knew who he was (side effect, he assumed, not that he was usually bothered by it). "That depends," he answered, voice lilting in an ancient language rhythm he'd never been able or particularly willing to lose in his everyday speech.

"Are you going to tell me what's in it?"

[themerlin]

"Pure magic, good sir, distilled into liquid form, the essence of magic as an alcohol. Nothing else is quite like it. It does not bear the lethal poisoning of normal alcohol, nor the blackouts of growing to drunk, but even the Morrigan was befuddled by it."

He grinned lopsidedly. "Twas a good day, in the lands of Eire."

[the_cupbearer]

"Ahh," Ganymede says, and doesn't reach out to take it. "Forgive me, I've had my fill of magic wine," he replies quietly. He's had his fill of it for a very long time now. "I appreciate your offer, though. You clearly like it."

[themerlin]

"As you wish." Merlin took no offense. To each their own. He made it vanish, and then raised his own glass in salute.

"It is my own invention, my own magic, I would hope I would like it."

A long sip, and a smile.

"How do the days treat you?"

[the_cupbearer]

"Oh, the days treat me all right," he says. "The nights are a bit of another matter."