knightsoflegend | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Whiskey in Mind

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