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

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.

Whiskey in Mind

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