milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Castle sits in a darkened corner booth, staring blankly at the back of the booth in front of him, taking the occasional mechanical sip of some vile-looking, heavily alcoholic drink.

Oh yeah. He'll make for some fun conversation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He wisely does not offer his opinion.

"Would you like my company, or would you like to keep the sole company of your glass?"

The Vala would not intrude, as much as he may like to.

He looks up, finally. "Will you stay?"

He slides into the booth beside Lee, his arm moving to rest around his waist so that Lee could still pull away if he wishes.

"I would stay forever if it would ease your pain some," he says softly.

He doesn't pull away from the touch, but can't relax into it, just holds himself stiffly and swallows.

"No, you wouldn't. But it's nice of you to say so."

He bites back a quick retort, drawing on endless years of patience and calm.

"Why would you think that? Have I given you reason to believe I lie?"

"Not intentionally." His cynicism isn't going to be so easily deterred.

He draws his arms back, resting his hands in his lap.

"But you believe unintentionally I have." A brief pause. "I see."

"Nothing lasts forever. Especially here. Nothing lasts longer than a few months here."

"If you wish to believe that," he says quietly, "I cannot change your mind."

"I want to believe otherwise." He looks away. "I just haven't got any evidence."

"Oh?" he asks with a raised brow. "And what evidence would you accept, Lee?"

"There's no evidence that it's possible to give. If this is going to be the exception rather than the rule, I'll just have to believe it when I see it, that's all."

He stares ahead.

His last memory of Lee had been pleasant -- erotic, intense, and full of love. To be faced with this in the wake of that hurt.

"Of course, Lee," is all he says.

"But nobody else ever told me anything was going to be forever. And you of all people know what 'forever' is."

"And I would not use such a word lightly," he points out quietly. "But I will not insist. Time will indeed tell all."

He nods, staring back into his drink. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. Mortals find the idea of eternity to be daunting, frightening. I should be more careful of the words I choose."

His mood is dark now and he flags a passing waitrat for a bottle of Atlantean.

"Oh, great, that's right. Get drunk with me. More candor--that's exactly what we need."

He pauses. "Fuck. I said that out loud."

With bottle and glass in hand, he pours himself a healthy serving.

"Yes, you did. And so long as you keep your hands off of me -- which I think will not be a problem for you in your gloom -- and keep me away from my brother, then we should be fine."

And he takes his first drink.

"Oh, for god's sake." He tangles his fingers in his hair and leans his forehead on his hand. "This is shaping up to be a royal fucking mess already."

He looks sideways at him.

"I do not know what you are talking about. I am having a drink with you -- that is all."

"Sure. Great. Whatever you say."

He takes another long swig of his own, coughing slightly. "Good god, this stuff is disgusting."

He sips at his drink.

"What are you drinking?" he asks, peering at Lee from under the curtain of his hair.

"Fucked if I know. I asked the Bar for the most heavily alcoholic thing she had that wouldn't flat-out kill me." He glances irritably down into it. "I don't think she gave it to me. For all the effect it's having, this might not even be alcoholic."

Making a decision, Námo orders a pitcher of cola and another glass. When it arrives, he pours about a shot of the Atlantean into the glass and then cuts it with the cola and ice. One mixed, he scoots it toward him.

Giving the mortal straight Atlantean would not be wise, but this would still do far more than whatever else he had been drinking.

"Alcoholic and decent taste," he points out, taking another gulp of his.