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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"Hullo," somebody in a purple sweater said in passing.

A gentle touch, feather-light fingers lacing through Lee's hair without a word.

Just the one he happens to be looking for.

And worry immediately creases his brow.

"Lamcaraxë?" he asks, approaching carefully.

He looks up without a word and nods in greeting.

"Hi," he says dully, after a moment.

He knows it's Gorlim, would recognize Gorlim's touch anywhere, and he closes his eyes tightly, trying to let it reassure him.

He doesn't look up, but gives a soft, bitter laugh at the nickname.

He slips into the booth, his arm circling Lee's shoulders -- still his touch is light and uninvasive, Lee is free to pull away if he wants to.

"Gwador, what is wrong?" he asks softly.

He swallows, wondering if he has done something wrong. The Vala stops short, his hands clenched in front of him.

"Lee? You are not well."

I was an asshole and I pushed away the man I love and I don't know what to do without him...

"Fucked things up with Mercutio for good this time," he whispers hoarsely. "He said he never wanted to see me again..."

Asar-Suti couldn't remember having spoken to this man before, but he had seen him around - didn't he belong to the same group of people as Tony, or Kim?

"You look horrible. Can I give you something stronger and viler to drink? I recommend usca, from my home world," he said to the man.

"I tried that too. Wish it worked."

Again he says not a word, but pulls Lee towards him, arms around him, kisses his head and coos the song of a mourning dove in quiet reassurance.

If he weren't quite so miserable, he would laugh at that, but he merely nods and catches a waitrat.

"Thanks. How do you pronounce it again? Usca?"

"No, m'not." He stares into his drink.

"Mercutio left me. I was an asshole, and he left."

"Works for me," he mutters, and takes a swig, grimacing at the bitterness.

Námo is silent.

He keeps his thoughts about Mercutio to himself.

"I am sorry, love," he says quietly, taking another step toward him.

He wraps his arms around Gorlim, glad of his brother's reassurance, glad to hear him chirping birdsong again, glad that Gorlim seems to be right again even when absolutely everything else is wrong.

"It was my fault," he says dully, taking another long drink. "I was horrible to him...I mean, fuck, when you tell someone you should have dumped them three months ago, what the fuck should you expect them to do but turn around and dump your sorry ass?"

Guppy sits down in front of him, making no efforts to remove the drink. That, after all, would be hypocritical.

"Anything I can do to help?"

The waitrat sat up and pointed at Asar-Suti with a paw, as if renouncing all responsibility for usca and/or accusing Asar-Suti of attempted poisoning.

"Yes, Everard, it's all right - I'll conjure him some," Asar-Suti said.

He drew a squiggle in the air with his raised forefinger; there were some purple sparks, and then he held a small clay cup containing a clear, slightly yellowed liquid that smelled strongly and roughly of alcohol.

"Here you are - usca," he said to the depressed fellow.

He holds his brother in a protective embrace, nuzzling his head. "Do you want me to take you away from here?" he asks. "Somewhere quieter?"

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 shakes his head and sits up. "I'd rather stay down here," he says quietly.

He takes the cup with a nod of thanks and looks up at Asar-Suti.

"You look kind of familiar," he notes, for the first time.

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