nysalogs | . all you have's your axe to grind . closed

[It's not often Takasugi is accused of knowing how to have a good time. In many circles, he's known as the downer of a party. The guy who just sits in the corner and acts like he's better than everyone getting wildly smashed.

The two don't have to be mutually exclusive.

His smile settles in, and he idly taps his glass for a refill.]

If your idea of a good time includes the risk of a bounty on your head.

[He assumes that it does.]

Heh. I was in the Mafia. A bounty on my head would just make me feel more at home.

[Chuuya matches him drink for drink, until he’s very much swaying on his barstool.]

Why? You got a dangerous streak?

[Chuuya doesn’t sound worried in the slightest.]

[Was in the mafia. Too bad. Takasugi wonders if this guy will find himself back in that life here. Maybe he should start his own family-

He has the charisma for it.

Takasugi takes his drink like a shot, tasting what he can of it before asking for another and doing the same.]

Aa.

Back home I was quite the terrorist. [War hero to some, public menace to others.

He'd take on either title, when it suited him.]

[If you count stealing wine, getting revenge on kidnappers, and making deals with demons, then yes, he’s living that kind of life again.]

Yeah? You look like the type.

[Which isn’t actually said as an insult.

But damn, Chuuya is reaching his limit far quicker than he’d anticipated. That booze really must be something.]

Tch. No fair. You’re used to drinking this stuff. I never get drunk this fast.

[With a curt laugh, Takasugi leans back. There's sway to his motion; he reclines a bit too far and returns, pausing to sigh.

He doesn't take the man's observation as an insult at all.]

Want to put an end to it? We'll drink ourselves to death, just sitting here.

How about a test? [A race, or some other means to determine who is more functional... though that may not coincide with who is less inebriated.

Oh well, close enough.]

[Chuuya snorts when he sees Takasugi sway on his stool, as if he’s in any better shape.]

Sure. How about we see who can make it to the door first?

[He stands up from his stool on wobbly legs and nearly faceplants in the first few steps. So graceful.

It’s probably cheating to use his ability, so he’ll just keep swaying along to see who falls first.]

Let’s do this.

[The door?

Takasugi casts a long, forlorn glance towards the suggested destination. It's far, and he can't quite tell if there are chairs... tables... people... in the way. Dim lighting does nothing to help a narrowed eye and swimming vision.

But he's a man who doesn't back down from even the most impossible of challenges. So what the hell is a door?

Takasugi stands, not sloppy in step only because he's anchored himself to the bar with one arm.] Aa.

Ready-

[No set. No go. He's off. At an incredibly unimpressive pace, but at least he's consistent, flowing from table to table with some amount of finesse.]

[It does seem rather far to the door...but Chuuya isn’t one to give up easily, and he copies Takasugi, floating from table to chair to wall to table again like a man adrift at sea. It feels like he’s swimming right now, actually, with how heavy his body feels, but eventually he slams right into the front door with a grunt.]

I won.

[He declares without knowing if Takasugi actually made it to the door or not. He’s just gonna assume that he won, because he’s cocky like that.

And then he’ll just...support himself against the door. Because if he doesn’t he’ll fall over.]

Haha...you’re wasted.

Edited 2018-06-12 17:06 (UTC)

[His competitor reaches the door first - seeing a black blur rush by his outstretched hand nearly makes Takasugi stop. But if he doesn't keep moving he may lose more than a race, his stomach lurching and urging him forward.

He wraps his hand around the handle and jerks the door open, dislodging the redhead from a stable perch.]

You shouldn't stop.

[A slurred warning uttered before Takasugi slides out onto the street. Leaving his companion and the bill behind.

He won't complain if the man follows him - right now, pettily avoiding the loss of silver seems way more important than ever coming back to this bar again.]

Oi!

[He nearly falls right on his face when Takasugi throws the door open, but he manages to stumble back to his feet and follow Takasugi out onto the street because what else is he supposed to do?? He has no silver to foot the bill, so he’s gonna drink and dash as well.

Which means Takasugi will have to deal with Chuuya stumbling after him.]

Oi!! Where are we going??

[There's shouting, and at first Takasugi can't parse the voice from any of the rest that had made up the din of the bar. He keeps moving, stumbling forward in the street until he's doors away.

Unsure which building he'd even spilled from.

A single glance back, to make sure he isn't being pursued by the owner or security - his only company seems to be the drunk embroiled in this mess with him.]

Ah? [We?] You need a place?

[Much as Chuuya is loathe to admit that he needs help...]

Yeah.

[He doesn’t know his way home from here, and he’s likely to end up dead wandering around in his drunken state.]

Lemme come with you. I’m not gonna rob you or anything.

[The thought makes Takasugi laugh - short and sharp.

He has absolutely nothing to steal. Maybe some mold? Or a pile of wax that's at least five decades old. Have at it, Mr. Robber.]

Mm- [He stares at the man longer than he actually considers the invitation.

It's fine.

Takasugi turns away, stumbling back to his shambling apartment with no apparent haste. Inside there isn't much, a table, two windowsills deep enough to sit in, and a hallway that leads back to a stuffy mattress on the ground. He takes the path to his bedroom, indicating fuck-all for his company.

Share the bed? Sleep on the floor? There's nothing else soft to lay on, sorry buddy.]

[Okay, maybe he’s a little spoiled from living in a mansion, but it’s better than sleeping on the streets, right? Chuuya follows him inside, and of course, being Chuuya, makes himself comfortable by flopping face first onto the “bed”.]

...I’ll leave in the morning.

[Hopefully. If he’s not too hungover.]

You gonna sleep?

[The bed is big enough for two, though comfort is dubious in that situation. His company didn't exactly lay in a way that accommodates him also settling in (read: sprawling), though, which leaves Takasugi staring down at him.

He gives him a hard nudge in the side with his foot - scoot over.

All he offers that question is a non-committal mumble, he might sleep. He might not.

~~He's absolutely going to sleep, but he doesn't like being definitive.~~]

[Chuuya grumbles when he’s pushed to the side, but at least he’s got somewhere to sleep.]

You don’t talk much, do you?

[Now he’s all huffy.]

Don’t you want company sometimes?

[Space made, Takasugi sits, back against the wall his mattress is shoved up to. It's a common perch for him; he plucks a satchel of tobacco from the low bedside table.]

Depends on the company.

Besides, I prefer to listen.

Tell me a story, if you're feeling uncomfortable in the silence.

[Dismissive, a little slurred, Takasugi lights his pipe once again.]

A story, huh?

[Chuuya kind of wants to smoke too, but he doesn’t see another pipe laying around, so he’ll just have to suck it up.

He has plenty of interesting stories, but one in particular that he’s rather proud of.]

I fought a dragon once. And won.

Ah? [He lets smoke fill his mouth and filter through cracked lips, lowering his pipe to the space between himself and his guest.

If Chuuya wants to take a turn, he won't stop him. It's just tobacco ~~this time~~.]

What were you fighting over?

[Stopping a beast set on sheer destruction is the most typical tale, but he evoke a story by simply assuming the reason tacitly.]

. all you have's your axe to grind . closed

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i hope they both just book it

God they’re both so wasted I love it

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sorry this is so late