Not enough silver for the price.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Yeah, merry effin' Xmas.

Cypher's huddled in a booth, drunk out of his gourd, wrapped in a lovely and completely unsuitable patchwork quilt, which is pulled up over his bald head so it looks a bit like a shroud, or maybe a security blanket. He's stuffing the Christmas treats into his mouth between swigs of whiskey and the boozy strains of "Auld Lang Syne," because he's sure by this time it must be New Year's.

He's beating his new DVD on the table in time with the song he sings. That would be obnoxious, except most people came into the bar, dropped their presents and left. Not this guy. He ain't goin' nowhere.

Comments

[cywyllog]

The sound is rather obnoxious, especially when you've definitely got a hangover by now, which Cywyllog does.

"Please stop." She, of course, has no idea who it is, and frankly doesn't care.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"No," he says emphatically, not looking over at who said it for extra comedy gold, and he keeps singing.

"We'll take a cuppa kindness yet..."

[cywyllog]

She recognizes the voice now, which doesn't help her mood any.

"If you are going to sing, at least try to be in key."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"C'mon, sing with me."

He's only getting louder.

"Should old acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to miiiiiiiind...."

[cywyllog]

She just stares at him. Ok, it's more like glaring.

Chances are, though, if she knew the song, she might join him, if only to show him how it should be sung.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

He turns around to look at her, though he's still got the quilt over his head and looks rather ridiculous that way.

"Fuckin' hell, Princess." The tin of cookies gets pushed her way, almost angrily.

"Here. Have a fuckin' brownie."

[cywyllog]

She walks over to the booth and peers in the tin for a moment, before taking something that based on the colour, she assumes is a brownie.

After taking a small bite, she actually smiles a little. "This is choc.. choco something, yes?"

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"Chocolate, yeah," he grumbles, reaching for the pack of Luckies that are of course sitting on the table.

"Some wise guy thought I'd like 'em. Christmas fuckin' cheer." Of course, he's been plowing through them rather steadily since he got them, so...

[cywyllog]

"It is very good." This is only the second time she's ever had chocolate.

She sits on the edge of the opposite seat and brightens ever so slightly at the mention of Christmas. "Were they a present? I got a present today."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, fuckin' Secret Santa." More muttering as he tries to light his cigarette, but his hands aren't working too well at the moment. He keeps flicking his Zippo and can't get a flame to stay put.

"Stupid fuckin' idea. Who the hell got you a present? Huh?"

[cywyllog]

She watches him for a moment, impassively. Then, she gently takes the lighter from his hand and flicks it for him. She's seen him do it enough times now to figure out how it works.

"His name is Magius. I do not know him very well, but it was nice of him to think of me."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

His eyes move to her in surprise as she holds the flame for him. He leans into it, getting in a few good puffs, gaze locked onto hers.

He doesn't thank her, but it does seem to calm him down a little. He takes the quilt off his head and lets it lay in his lap.

Then he just watches her, smoking. Nodding vaguely.

[cywyllog]

She holds the lighter out for him to take back.

"You do not like this holiday?"

[ariseinmight]

Melkor looks over from his nearby booth, faintly annoyed.

"You're still quite early for that, from what I understand."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Cypher shakes his head at the guy.

"Can't be. This fuckin' holiday's gotta be over by now."

[ariseinmight]

Melkor shrugs.

"Sadly, not. In fact, the holiday itself has only just begun, I'm afraid. The next one is still a good seven days away."

He takes a sip of his drink.

"Bit of a pisser, if you ask me."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"Understatement of the fuckin' year."

Cypher bites the head off a gingerbread man rather savagely, then stares blearily at Melkor, talking through a mouthful of cookie.

"Whassyerdeal, you kinda got a Jesus thing goin' on there or somethin'."

[ariseinmight]

The Vala chuckles.

"Gonna go with 'or somethin' on that one. Not that you're the first one to make that comment. But no. I'm about as far from a 'Jesus thing' as one can get."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"Well, then what kinda thing are you...?"

He holds out his bottle of Jameson, offering. "Does Jesus drink...?"

[ariseinmight]

"Jesus may not, but I sure as hell do," Melkor replies, accepting the bottle.

"Name's Melkor. There's more to it than that, but most people zone out after that."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Cypher's warming up to Melkor now, a little anyway. He can like anyone with a healthy appreciation for booze.

"No, short is good. I'm Cypher. Short is better. I'm used to short names." He digs out a cookie shaped like a Christmas tree and lays waste to it.

[ariseinmight]

He takes a long drink from the bottle and passes it back.

"And what do you do, Cypher?"

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Cypher immediately takes a swig when he gets it back.

"Tonight? This week? Get trashed. What else should I do?"

He finds another cookie, this one shaped like a wreath, and pretty much devours it.

[ariseinmight]

"Nice to see you've got your priorities straight." It's difficult to tell if he's being sarcastic or not. His eyes -- or lack of them -- are especially unreadable. "I was actually referring to what you do when you're not here, however."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Does Cypher know Melkor doesn't have eyes? Tonight, he probably wouldn't care.

"When I'm not here?"

Cypher actually looks confused. Then again, he's pretty goddamn drunk.

"Was there ever a time?"