AFTERPARTY III: Never Have I Ever Been Quite This Drunk

[mirrite]

[There's absolutely nothing celebratory about this drinking party. "Party" isn't even the right word, not really-- it's more like a "drink until you forget and/or black out" session for anyone who wants to participate, and even the bartender isn't immune from that much. Please forgive him if your drink isn't mixed quite right; he's trying his best under the circumstances.

There's food, too, if anyone wants to attempt to stave off a hangover tomorrow, or just get something in their stomach after the events of the day: stirfry from Makoto, vegetable soup from Nageki (mediocre, but hey, a genuine effort was made and that's what counts), and some tea for those who would rather abstain from the harder stuff. (Is that even many people tonight? Probably not.)

Come on by the bar if you're hungry or want a drink, or even if you just don't want to be alone right now. That much, at least, is something that can be guaranteed tonight.]

Comments

[heroicact]

[It's perhaps notable that when Jack shows up to the afterparty -- and show up he does, rather like the clockwork that's deviled them all this time but quite late indeed, clad in a complete change of clothing that looks both plainer and more sober than his usual; but at least it doesn't look like something grabbed from the daytime boutique, perish the thought -- he doesn't take the time to deliver greetings except to the bar counter and there...

He does murmur a soft apology to those running the joint, a little repentant about being unable to be here in any particular capacity than one: he'll spend most of his time slowly, dutifully asking for and then downing drinks (though still, he goes for the sweeter ones, rather than the hard liquor; it really is a time for indulgences). One, two, three. Four. Five.

Those passing by will either find him still at it, though they might get a small tilted smile and a not-particularly coherent, half-sung remark--]

Ah, if you're looking for the bar -- the bartender, I'm afraid, I'm afraid that I was here first.

[--but he won't stop anyone else from sitting down, joining him, and so on. The later it gets, though, the more liable he is to be found just plain dozing against the counter, half-curled around a little sheet of notes and his usual pen.]

counter

[amortristis]

I wasn't looking for one.

[ She sighs, sitting next to Jack and eying the drinks. ]

Should you be drinking any more?

[ The answer is pretty explicit in her tone. ]

[heroicact]

Ah.......

[It takes him a moment to look up at her, and in fact he overshoots a little bit and has to correct his somewhat wobbly head but he does meet her eyes -- it's a bit of a dazed look but he does still manage to focus enough where there's some form of realization.

A little bit sheepishly--]

I guess -- this isn't really what we agreed on, but? Um. [his aimless little smile spreads, just a bit, though that lets a little sadness slither in like a shadow] I was running an experiment. With a lot of drinks.

If you want to help.

[amortristis]

An experiment.

[ Her face is kind of (X) DOUBT, but with that lil bit of sadness in his expression, she'll bite with a sigh. ]

What exactly are you trying to do?

[heroicact]

Oh, I'm no scientist whatsoever, so I'm taking the name in vain...

[That probably makes sense in some galaxy out there where everyone lives in a bottle, but back here Jack really is just rambling a bit aimlessly as he swirls the ice in his glass, letting it clink-clink-clink in a pretty little rhythm like he's making it dance.

He stares at it for a long moment before he seemingly remembers that he still has a question to answer, and then he raises it up as though in toast. Tilts his head towards Morgan.]

But how many drinks nowadays does it take, I wonder... Five? Or ten? There are some places, you see -- where time's forgot. Like the clocktower, and closed spaces. Dimensions. [he continues to be not-so-coherent while acting like he knows exactly what he's talking about... and also emptying the glass in a few] Like this. How many drinks-- would it take to go back a few days?

I think I would still dance with her, regardless.

[amortristis]

[ She listens to him ramble for a little bit, her expression more or less the same as it's been. ]

Even if time has seemingly little meaning here, there is no amount of alcohol that will allow you to repeat the events of the past. Going back is... not possible.

[heroicact]

[He doesn't at all seem to mind the more muted reaction. Perhaps he's simply the type of drunk that likes to hear himself talk, but then again, he's not particularly laconic while sober, either.]

Ah, but no, but that is the paradox, you see? If it were possible to turn back time-- Or if it were possible to change things-- You see?

How would you know? For it would all be overwritten, rewritten, unwritten. Everything...

[There's a dramatic gesture with his hand that nearly sends his glass flying but after all of that he finally quiets down a little.]

Well, that is why it is a legend.

[mirrite]

You've... had too many.

[States the bartender, who has also definitely had a few more than he really should by this point and probably should not still be trying to mix drinks.]

'Course, so've I, so that makes us even.

[heroicact]

But if you can still say that, Marcus -- remember?

Then neither of us have drunk enough.

[It's completely mysterious what Marcus is supposed to be remembering, Jack picking up the thread of conversation like they've been in a dialogue all night when most likely he'd only exchanged greetings and nudges for drinks at some point.

But he manages a slightly more alert smile and perches his chin on the bar, watching Marcus at whatever mixing he's trying to do now, or if he's just bustling about doing bartender things... more or less competently.]

Take a break with me? We can... race. Maybe.

[This is yet another thing where maybe a race doesn't make sense, but. Who's counting.]

[mirrite]

[To his credit, the drink he's mixing right now is reasonably close to the recipe when one considers that he isn't actually measuring the proportions and is too drunk to be trying to eyeball them. Passable, certainly, if nothing else...

... now if only he could remember who he was supposed to be making this for. Where did they go? After a moment of looking around doesn't manage to jog his memory, he shrugs and... bottoms up.]

Suppose you're right. And now I've had one more.

[...]

Kinda hard to make it a race when I don't... have any idea how many you've had, though...

[heroicact]

[Muscle memory, it's all muscle memory, just like the tap-tap-tap of Jack's fingers against the counter occasionally when he remembers some snatch of melody; sometimes he hums them, sometimes he just plays them out silently and without any particular fanfare, but there's always at least a little noise coming from him when he's up here, usually.

For what a week's worth of bar-diving has established, anyway -- tonight he's remarkably quiet otherwise even if he's still engaging in conversation.

His smile tilts a little more as Marcus finishes off his drink, all spontaneous.]

More than five... less than fifteen? I was counting, but... [maybe at some point he lost track, somewhere between being maudlin and people appearing at the bar] Can start from zero. I won't tell.