milliways_bar | (no subject)

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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.

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"You've been different. Strange. Scaring people. We didn't know why."

"Scaring?" He tilts his head. "How?"

He shakes his head. "We just didn't know why you were acting weird. That's all. I thought you were pissed off at me...I know Namo thought you were pissed at him."

He shakes his head. "Oh, Lee. I was not angry at anybody. Just in an odd mood, that is all. I have been strange lately. It is none of your doing. Forgive me for worrying you, bother."

"Just glad you're back to normal." He sets his drink aside, and takes a deep breath. "I missed you, you know. Like hell."

His smile has a kind of glow about it. "I missed you, too. More than I could ever say." He craftily steals Lee's cup and takes a sip of its contents, making a face at it. "Oy, what is this swill?" he teases. "Worse than your bloody coffee, it is."

"It works." Though he doesn't take the cup back. He can deal with sobriety at the moment.

"And there is nothing wrong with coffee." To punctuate this, he flags down a waitrat and orders a large mug of the strongest, blackest coffee the Bar can offer.

"Mmm." He makes no comment on the effectiveness of Lee's horrid-tasting drink, but his arm finds its way around his brother's waist and keeps him near. He understands.

"Plenty wrong with coffee," he says. "It's not tea!"

"Tea is for wimps. I've said it once and I'll say it again. Although you prove your non-wimpiness in other ways."

He laughs and whaps Lee playfully on the arm. "Do I really. I'm glad to hear it. Maybe I should decide coffee is for uncultured heathens, then?"

"Sure. Just don't expect me to prove that I'm not one of those." He almost smiles.

"Of course! How could you prove you're not something you are?" He grins and tackles Lee, scritching his head with his knuckles, though not too hard.

"Argh." He wriggles away in defense, fingers tangling lightly in Gorlim's hair. "And if I like being an uncultured heathen? What then, eh?"

"Then it may well rub off on me!" he exclaims with mock-horror. "Look, it's already starting." He steals Lee's coffee and gulps a mouthful of it, followed immediately by much coughing and sputtering.

"Great... great stuff!" he chokes.

He can't help but laugh.

He takes the mug and knocks back several swallows of coffee without flinching. "'Great stuff, eh,'" he corrects.

"Aye. If you're an uncultured heathen, eh," Gorlim mimics. He flags a waitrat and orders a pot of tea. "I think I can feel my insides melting."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," he says solemnly. "But I can always go find Guppy."

"You know Guppy?" Gorlim asks. "I hadn't realized you did!"

"Yeah, he's a good friend. I didn't know you knew him."

He nods. "Guppy told me to find a sort of doctor to help me with... things. He told me about how the thing that's wrong with me is actually a sickness. How I hurt myself and things. He says it can be treated, but he doesn't know how."

He nods. "Yeah, it wouldn't be his specialty, but he's right. Did you find anyone?"

Gorlim shakes his head. "I know the one name he told me, Malcolm Crowe, but I've never had a chance to speak with him much. There was another name I cannot remember. I have it written somewhere."

"There are a lot of them around here." He strokes his fingers lightly through Gorlim's hair. "It would do you good, brother..."

He bows his head. "Do you think so, truly? Lee, do you know what it is they would do to me?"

"Do to you?" He sits up, still gently stroking his brother's hair. "Gorlim, they just talk to you. They don't hurt you. Sometimes they prescribe medication, but mostly it's talking. I've had to talk to some of them myself."