knightsoflegend | Whiskey in Mind

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Whiskey in Mind

WHO || Tybalt, Amrita anyone who might be wandering by or having a drink.
WHAT || Tybalt indulges in his second favorite pastime and runs into another squire on his way out.
WHERE || The Castle Bar, first floor
WHEN || Tuesday, Mar 12th, early evening
HOW || Prose OR Actionspam

Tybalt had spent most of the day in the training room, practicing with his sword and generally doing a little too well at avoiding the company of his fellow squires. It wasn't as if he particularly disliked any of them, he just had never been the best at social interactions. In fact, in general he was terrible at them. His blunt honesty had a tendency of stirring up fights, and Tybalt's enjoyment of those fights had never left much drive to stop being the prickly feline he was. He could be plenty civil, but he bristled at anything he considered a personal insult. It just wasn't very conducive to making friends.

He spends most of the latter half of the day in the castle bar until late in the evening when he finally decides to head to his bedroom. It's possible he might even get into actual conversations with people at the bar. He's his most personable when he has a drink in his hand. Otherwise it's just as likely to bump into him on his way out. A bit softened around the edges by alcohol and less prone to start a fight.

Come prod the feline prickly pear.

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Amrita's day had been spent in the library, familiarizing herself with the system and where everything was, and constantly getting stuck in volumes regarding various subjects that caught her interest.

Now she finally felt that it was time for her to retire to her quite frankly sinfully wonderful room and spend the rest of the evening there.

Catching sight of Tybalt as soon as she walked through the library doors, however, she came to a halt and gave him a nod in greeting.

"Good evening."

"Good Evening, Sir... Bha..Bhard... Bardwage."

Tybalt's brows furrowed as the combination of slight alcohol haze and difficulty of the foreign name on his tongue forced him to stumble on the words. He cleared his throat and looked for anyone around to give him an excuse to get away fast. Not finding any such luck, his eyes moved back to hers and then to the library behind her.

"Find something interesting in those dusty old cow-hides?"

Yes, you're doing a fine job so far Tybalt. Good conversational skills. That didn't at all sound as if it were worded poorly.

She put a hand on her hip and regarded him with poorly hidden skepticism. Was her name really that hard to pronounce, or had he just been drinking that much? It was hard to tell.

The dismissive tone she felt he was taking towards studying books coupled with his apparent fondness for fighting that she could recall from their first meeting wasn't really helping with putting her in a friendly state of mind either.

"I found plenty, thank you. Have you enjoyed your evening of introducing a neurotoxin into your system?"

"Immensely."

So that was an exaggeration but her obvious disdain was rubbing him the wrong way already and he wasn't particularly inclined to humor her. His difficulties were really a combination of both, as the feline shape-shifter could hold his liquor rather impressively. Apparently he had built up some form of resistance in his life before.

He studies her for another moment before glancing at the library.

"Someone forcing you to do research the old fashioned way?"

As if he was one to talk about old fashioned. Nearly everything about him was old-fashioned, usually including his chivalry toward women. Somehow that didn't seem to be coming into play around this particular woman. Whatever the case, he clearly didn't have a very high opinion of books at all.

"Familiar with research methods, are you?"

Her attempt at hiding her doubt regarding that was a poor one, if indeed an attempt was being made at all.

"I was mostly getting acquainted with the system. Where everything is and such."

"As a matter of fact, I am."

Yes, that was just the slightest bit smug. He has to protect his pride, after all.

"I prefer more direct methods."

Of course, by direct he really means 'faster'. Old-fashioned as he is in most things, research is something Tybalt was quick to adopt a less time-consuming method. Less book involved.

"Like what, kicking it until it works?"

All right, time to take a deep breath and count to ten. Apparently manners were hard to hang on to around this guy.

"Sorry, that was rude."

"I usually try asking questions. From people. Otherwise they have this very useful new invention here called a search engine."

But here he was being rude as well. And to a lady. Well. A woman, at least. Generally he was far more... what was the word. Chivalrous? Gentlemanly? He had a certain notion of how women should be treated, with respect and a sense of composure, that apparently he failed to keep hold of around this particular woman.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, a wave of dizziness from the quantity of alcohol he had consumed, and forced a smile for her.

"No. I am sorry. I have not exactly been a gentleman."

"I suppose we can just call it even then."

She gave him a thoughtful look, not one to touch alcohol herself but plenty familiar with its effects on people seeing as she's not friendless and have had her share of hungover people laying in miserable piles on her couch.

"You should drink some water. Or a lot of it. And eat something salty."

He knew how to handle his alcohol and he considered telling her as much, but luckily this time the cat thought better of it.

He cleared his throat and glanced back at her and then at the library behind her.

"Yes, I might do as much. Good luck with your... researching."

There was a hint of a grin though, on his lips after a moment. He could admire a person with fire in their spirit.

[ there's a couple knights at the bar down the way who have just plain had way too much to drink. between annoying rounds of song and spilling all over the floor, punctuated with irritating bursts of laughter, they've been driving the few other patrons in here crazy, and the bartender finally tells them they've had enough. which only means that the one floats a bottle off the shelf and into his hand with magic when his back is turned. they crack up laughing and not much longer, have both passed out and slid off their stools. the bartender makes a call and eventually a woman in deep blue robes enters the room, looking around uncertainly, as if she's not accustomed to this particular facility of the castle, before the bartender points to the floor where the bodies are sprawled. she steps around tybalt to get a better view of them. ] Oh! I see what you mean. [ she looks at the bottle lying empty on the counter ] ... I suppose it doesn't help that they were downing ogre mead.

[Tybalt had been doing his best to ignore those knights. He really was trying not to start fights that Wynn might hear about later. Still he had been tempted more than a few times, and had no problem snickering at them when the pair of them collapsed.

He straightened when the woman arrived however, a well dressed lady, and one who seemed to know very well what she was doing.

After a moment of watching them he cleared his throat, getting to his feet with a little less-than-steady legwork of his own. And how lucky he was not to lose his balance, because there was little a cat liked less than others being witness to any slips of pride. Thank whatever gods or powers were responsible for his constitution (and his liver).]

They seemed to be enjoying themselves quite a bit.

[ a fortitude save vs. drunkenness! 15 or above will be fine, 10-15 is a little tipsy, less than 10 equals oh god, going straight to his head...

Risa looks over at him when he comments, and then clucks her tongue as she shakes her head ] Too much, maybe.

I don't know if they're ever going to learn if I just fix them up so easily.

[21, Tybalt is a very lucky feline. He gives a slight smirk at her comment, eying the drunken knights with a shade of amusement.]

I say let them suffer their hangovers. They knew what they were getting into when they started.

[ she looks sorely tempted by the idea... ] I don't know how compassionate that would be.

[Oh that was a grin]

A little tough love could do them some good. How will they learn if they don't have to face the consequences?

It would be nice not to have to run every time someone put themselves in a bad spot here.

We could just move them back to their rooms and leave them to suffer their own bad decisions where they won't be in anyone's way.

If you're offering to help carry them. I don't think I can handle it alone.

Why not. We are a team, are we not? It would be irresponsible of me not to help a lady in need.

[He straightened his jacket and gave her a smile. It was probably improper not to refer to her as Sir, but his upbringing was deeper rooted than the Knights code. What he remembered of it.]

[ she doesn't seem to mind, smiling slightly and extending a delicate hand ] Risa, by the way.

Tybalt.

[He shakes her hand with a slightly lopsided smile and a gentle grip. Not how he expected his evening to end, but despite outward appearances and attitude, the prickly cat wasn't a bad guy. He could be really rather charming and friendly if he had a reason to be.]

Do you know where their rooms are?

No... but luckily, there's a spell for that. [ she draws up the sun shaped pendant at her neck and holds it aloft. ] Show me.

A spell?

[Tybalt arches a brow at that, watching her and that pendant with interest. He hasn't seen a lot of magic first hand, so spells are interesting.]

It helps me find the easiest path to whatever I'm looking for.

It really wasn't surprising to find Reynard at the bar. It wasn't as if he was that prone to getting drunk - although it certainly happened often enough - but he liked people. He had always been, in his way, a people-person, starting when he first tried being, well, a person.

Of course, his way of being a people-person might widely differ from the common definition, but it worked well enough for him most of the time.

Reynard didn't generally tell anyone his true nature. It wasn't embarrassment, it was self-preservation. Being able to turn into a fox came in handy when he had to get away and no one knew he could do that.

But he couldn't keep it secret from everyone and so he approached the cat, guessing that he could smell the truth on him just as he could in turn.

"What are you drinking?"

That made them terribly unfortunate opposites in several respects. Because Tybalt was anything but a people person, and he came to the bar with the specific intent of getting drunk, and in bars other than this one, the intent (which he would deny despite his dislike of lying) of getting into brawls, just to prove to himself he could take these people.

There was no honor in those fights. Just a prickly cat trying to stoke a bruised ego and injured pride. ~~And possibly some deep-seated inferiority complex.~~

But he could smell the fox even over the strong, burning scent of his alcohol, and managed to do an impressive impersonation of a tail twitch in human form. The slight tick of a sneer that was gone half as fast as it formed.

"Some form of mead, I believe." He had not been too picky in ordering. It wasn't about taste, obviously.

"Then I'll have whatever it is you're having." Reynard gestured to the man behind the bar and stayed next to Tybalt, watching him and how he held himself, reading more into it all than most might have been able to, although it remained to be seen whether he was right about any of it.

"Having a bad day or having a normal day in a bad life, friend?" Different nicknames were just on the tip of his tongue, but for today he left them out.

A sharp retort that he wasn't Reynard's friend was on the tip of his tongue, but he washed it down with another drink. These people were his comrades now. Civility was something he needed to at least make attempts at.

"Neither. Just enjoying a quiet drink."

Was that emphasis on quiet? It might have been.

"Think quietness is easier to come by when you're somewhere alone."

Yes, he might have picked up on that emphasis and he also proceeded not to give a fuck. He took a sip when his drink was set before him.

"How long have you been here?"

"Three hours."

He purposefully ignored what that question might have been referring to. It's hard not to bristle when someone refuses to take an obvious hint, so the cat just drinks his alcohol and focuses on the knights in the bar, rather than the other squire.

"And you don't even smell it." A lie, but well. "How long then, I wonder, have you been part of the knights."

Obviously rudeness wasn't deterring him. If anything, it might make him just that bit more determined.

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Whiskey in Mind

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Fortitude Save maybe?

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