Open ♔ Blackbirds sing sad harmonies lost to the humming wires that feed

[attollores]

WHO || Alainn O'Rourke and Thomas Bancroft
WHAT || A night of drinking together, bro-ship style
WHERE || Wherever the bottles lead them
WHEN || Sunday, March 8th when the Russia mission returns
HOW || Prose or Actionspam, whatever you prefer

♫ This Hollow World by Johnny Hollow

Alainn knew that Thomas was probably well ahead of her in the amount he'd had to drink, though she was certain he wouldn't be inebriated as of yet. The phone call he'd had to make was terrible, the whole thing was terrible. He had shown a face to the Knights rarely seen by any, the side of him that was like the far side of the moon, where usually he was so luminescent. They shared a lot of the same qualities, the both of them, and she was glad he would accept her company for the night. They both needed this, mutual support in a terrible time, and no one there to judge them in how they chose to express their grief. With a shit-ton of alcohol.

She arrives at the door to his room, balancing an obscene amount of liquor bottles in her arms, even more clanging in the pockets of her trench coat. Having no free hands she takes the toe of her boot and gives it a few insistent kicks. Hopefully he would be there, otherwise she was going to plant herself in front of his door and start without him.

"Thomas! Are ye in there?"

Comments

[bancroft]

"No apology necessary," he says dismissively, waving a hand airily in her direction. "As for him, I have the feeling he's suffering himself, even if we're all feeling it on different levels. Every man's sorrow is the deepest sorrow, they say." He sounds vaguely amused by the saying, and glances at her once.

"Of course it's hardly a competition."

[attollores]

"And every woman's," she mumbles barely loud enough to be heard. It isn't bitter sounding, more like she just feels it should be in that saying as well. Gender-equal mourning, or something like that.

"Thank the gods we at least draw the line at that." She takes another drink of the dark liquor, hardly making a face at the fire burning down her throat. She looks back over to him curiously, a question clearly on her tongue, but she shakes her head, taking another drink and resting her forearms on her knees again.

[bancroft]

"Liquor burning the question off your tongue?" he asked, obviously having caught the look. There was good humor in the question, however, and he seemed genuinely curious.

[attollores]

She looks over at him a moment, obviously choosing which question to ask. Seeming to finally settle on one she cocks her head to the side, curiosity once more plain on her features.

"How long've you been a Knight, Thomas?"

[bancroft]

"Ohhhh," he mused, leaning his head back and looking amused as he vaguely bopped his head back and forth. "About... a hundred and nine years. Give or take."

He turned a sudden flash of smile in her direction.

[attollores]

Her eyebrows shoot up, an impressed look flashing across her features. "Well damn."

She doesn't know what else to say for a moment, her own grin flashing at him in return. She lifts her bottle once more, realizing it's empty and sets it aside to reach for another. Unscrewing the cap she taps the new bottle against his, the clink resounding satisfyingly in the air of the room as she takes a slower swallow.

"What did you do before you were a Knight?"

[bancroft]

He pauses in the act of raising his bottle to his mouth at the follow-up, a hint of something not entirely unlike sheepishness creeping into his expression. But he matches it with a grin that tempers out any real shame from the moment.

"Made a mess of things, mostly," he admitted. "And for awhile after I was one, too, if you must know."

[attollores]

She snorts, a tiny chuckle coming from between her lips as she leans back once more against the bed. "Would you tell me about it if I asked nicely?"

She rolls her head in his direction once more, her arms crossing lightly over her stomach while carefully cradling the bottle in the crook of her arm.

[bancroft]

"No, but I might if you beat it out of me," he countered, shooting her a teasing smirk, before draining the remainder of his drink. He unceremoniously tossed the bottle over his shoulder, listening to it shatter on the far side of the bed. His eyes followed the arc of it, and then he gave a little sigh. "Very satisfying, that."

[attollores]

"I seriously doubt I could take you on in the condition you're in. It would hardly be a fair fight." She couldn't help the smile from spreading as her eyes also followed the bottle. At the sound of the glass hitting the floor she swiped up another bottle, handing it over to him casually.

"Though perhaps an arm-wrestling match would be acceptable. I win, you spill. You win and... Well, okay maybe that's not the best bargain I guess cuz I don't have much to offer."

[bancroft]

"Nonsense. Everyone has a story, my dear. And I've yet to hear all of yours." He took the bottle with a grateful air, turning it to look over the label.

"Beautiful women always have interesting pasts."

[attollores]

"I got that one off a back-alley seller on my last mission. He sold the best Shadow liquor I've found yet. Too bad we had to put him out of business for dealing in black-magic artifacts too..." She nodded to the bottle he held, indicating with her tone he should be grateful to be getting such good liquor to drink.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes at his obvious deflection to her own questions she had about him. She took another pull from her bottle, rolling the alcohol around her tongue before swallowing, buying time to think.

"How about a story for a story? Quid pro quo-ish."

[bancroft]

"It's unfortunate how criminals always have a monopoly on the best booze," he lamented, cracking it open. Thomas pretended to consider for a moment, before nodding.

"Very well. Though I was rather looking forward to that arm wrestling match now."

[attollores]

"We can always wrestle afterwards, if you like." She winks at him, her eyebrows doing a dance as she chuckles. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out a quarter, bouncing it on her palm a few times as she looks at him.

"Heads you go first, tails I do. Sound fair?"

[bancroft]

"Sounds fair to me, but considering I'm blessed with unusual luck, perhaps it's not fair to all parties involved." A large grin makes it difficult to tell whether he's joking or not. "Tails seems appropriate, in either case."

[attollores]

"Very appropriate," she smirks, the quarter bouncing a few more times in her palm. Balancing the coin on her thumb and forefinger takes a few tries considering just how very intoxicated she is, but finally it rests solidly on the two digits waiting to be flipped. [I'm just going to roll a percentile- 1-49= heads and 50-100= tails?]

With a flick of her thumb the coin is in the air, the dull shine of metal catching the light as it flips over and again on it's rise high towards the ceiling, then down once more, heading straight towards her palm. [I rolled it on an online roller and got a 10. I'm not sure if this will show it to you, but here is a link to it just to prove it :P. If you wanna change how this is done just lemme know!]

Her free hand slaps over the coin so as to make sure it doesn't fall to the ground, and slowly she peels that hand away, exposing the coin as it landed heads up. Her grin flashed to Thomas, triumph in her eyes. "Heads it is."

pfft i trust you! ♥

[bancroft]

He hisses a dramatic intake of breath between his teeth, turning his head away as if he daren't look, but then peeks back and grins.

"I suppose the ol' heads have it then." He stretches his legs out long in front of him, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. "Before I was a Knight, eh. You're trusting to a lot of rusty memories here..." He glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Nigh over a hundred years now, really."

♥!

[attollores]

She grins wider at him, shrugging her shoulders at his words. "Aye, ye've said yer a fogey before. I expect a lot of references to the olden days and the such."

She leans her head back against the bed again, fingers threaded together and resting on her abdomen. "Whenever you're ready then, Bancroft."

[bancroft]

"Oh let's see then... I was born in 1867, and didn't join up til 1903. They thought I was something of a scalawag then, so you can imagine what I came from." He shoots her a grin, with his too-sharp teeth. "Unlike most of you hoodlums, however, I was born and raised in this world. My mother was the Veil traveler."

[attollores]

"You, a scalawag? I'll never believe it!" She waves her hand dramatically in a dismissive gesture, booze sloshing over the rim of her bottle and spattering her shirt and pants. She brushes absently at the spill, her focus still on Thomas.

"Did she remember anything from the Shadow World?"

[bancroft]

"Almost everything, it seems. Except for one tiny detail..." He shrugs, as if it's a humorous story, but his expression contradicts as much. "Who my father was."

[attollores]

Her eyes slide from his face for a moment, compassion entering her gaze but she masks it before turning back to look at him, not wanting to chase off his sudden honesty with girly feelings.

"So... Do you take very much after your mother?" is her feeble attempt to ferret out details about what he's been able to deduce about his lineage.

[bancroft]

"Well, I definitely got her looks," is his roguish reply, though his smirk makes it clear he knows what she was really aiming for and is enjoying letting it dangle.

[attollores]

She rolls her eyes at his obvious deflection, determined to get the answers to her questions.

"Yer dancing around the questions, Bancroft," she growls out jokingly, waggling a finger under his nose.

[bancroft]

"You should see me tango," he blithely parries, eyes following her finger with wicked amusement. "But maybe that's what this is, as I sense you might also be dancing around a question.. Spit it out now, love, don't be shy when drink is flowing."