01.14.09 - Drunken Behavior

Location: Redwall Infirmary, Wine Cellar

Characters Involved: Darcy, Brenden

Brenden has his back to the main room as he leans over a counter, looking at a few books. He has a steaming cup of tea beside him that he occasionally takes a sip of.

Darcy enters from the hallway after a few hours spent working upstairs. "Soon as this is over," she mutters, "I am taking a well-deserved hiatus from any and all healing, I /swear/. ... hey Brenden." The doe steps up behind him, sidestepping a little and peering over at the book that has his attention.

Brenden seems to be totally engrossed in the book, until Darcy says his name. He turns and smiles, "'Ey Darcy. Whats wrong?" Then, when he notices her attention towards the book he shifts to the side slightly so she could see. It's one of the medicine journals from the abby library.

"I am awash in a shimmering blaze of cynicism," Darcy mutters, tone light, almost cheerful, while edged with sarcasm. Her eyes slip up to his face in profile, then down at the book. "Mmf. I think my eyes'd fall out just now if I tried to read anything." And she nudges the book back at the right angle for him.

Brenden gets a smirk on his face, "I'm no stranger to sarcasm." He glances at the book and pushes it away, turning to lean his back against the counter so he could face her. He reaches for his cup and smiles, "Want some tea?"

Darcy backs up a half-step when Brenden turns, though her face has to tilt up to see him. "No stranger? Well here's your chance to get to know each other even better then," she mutters, eyes a little narrowed. Tired, but amused. The doe shakes her head. "No .. I'm tired of tea. I could really go for a pint though. Something delightfully alcoholic."

Brenden tilts his head to the side at her further comment about sarcasm, then blinks at the mention of alcohol, "I've been heah fah a bit now. And this is tha first time I've heahd mention of alcohol." He gets a grin on his face, "A pint of bittah would do nicely."

"What, no exploration of the cellars? That's the first place I went when I got here," Darcy chuckles. Her eyes flick away from him, over the infirmary, but things are quiet and there's a Brother nearby, as well as several novices. The doe backs up a step, and grins at the Private. "... well come on then."

Brenden shakes his head, "When I first got heah, I was put on tha walls. Then I had tah leave tah do some trainin. Came back tah find a plague." He grins and motions towards the doors, "Aftah you."

"Well you're military, you have orders to follow," Darcy says with a smirk. "/I/ couldn't be Long Patrol anyway. I prefer to be giving the orders, if anything. I'm sure you've noticed..." A little snicker follows this as she heads out into the hall.

Brenden follows her out into the hall and chuckles, "I hadn't noticed."

Darcy pads down the steps into the cellar after stealing through the kitchens. She pushes up her sleeves while pausing at the bottom of the steps, looking back at him. "This will be an interesting excursion," she notes, "since I've completely forgotten to bring along mugs. What's your poison, then?"

Brenden follows her down, looking around at all the casks and barrels with a big grin on his face, "Now this is what I'm talkin about..." he mutters under his breath. He looks over at Darcy with the same grin, "I'll have what you're havin."

"That," Darcy says with a soft snicker, "is not at all wise. Take a seat, Private, let's see what I can dish us out." And she wanders off, deeper into the cellar, moving behind some stacked barrels and a shelf of wine bottles, mostly out of sight.

Brenden grins and tilts his head to the side, "Why's that?" He does comply though, moving over to a barrel on the side and taking a seat on it, watching the doe move off until he couldn't see her.

"'cause you have no bleeding idea what I might choose," Darcy points out. She emerges with a flask in one hand, dusting off the label and aiming a triumphant smile at Brenden. "Vodka. .. berry vodka, looks like. You game, mister?"

Brenden shakes his head, "It don' mattah what yah pick. I can drink yah undah tha table." He chuckles and points out, "I been drinkin with tha Long Patrol Darcy."

"Be that as it may," Darcy replies, tugging the cork out of the flask and taking a quick swallow. It's cold and berry-ish and /divine/. "... I am tiny and my tolerance is minimal and if you still like me after you've seen me drunk, I just might keep you." She offers the bottle.

Brenden gives a genuine smile and accepts the bottle, "So it depends on if I like yah aftah I see yah drunk?" He takes a drink, then makes a face and shakes his head, then goes back to smiling, "I'd 'ave thought that it'd be you that would determine whether 'r not tah keep me aftah seein' /me/ drunk." Then he passes the bottle back.

Darcy considers him with her eyes a little squinted, licking her lower lip and then shrugging. "... well there's that too." She clasps the bottle in one hand, lifting it and taking a swig, then a second one before she passes it back. The doe moves to arrange herself on another barrel, near him - close enough to pass the drink back and forth. "But I figure if you're repulsed by my, ahh.. heh. Drunken behavior. That's a sure indication that I shouldn't bother, right?"

Brenden watches her and accepts the bottle, taking a long drink before he speaks again, "My question is though," he says as he passes the bottle back, "What made yah want to 'bothah' in tha first place? We'd only met once before, when.....oh.....whats his name? Decided tah staht a fuss in heah."

No fair, no asking questions of the tipsy doe! She's getting there, anyway. Darcy gives her drinking buddy a broad smirk. "... well. You're /not/ an idiot." Which is apparently impressive or something. "... you're also /not/ .. ugly. Or something. Same question!" She grins and then takes a swallow.

Brenden reaches over and takes another long drink. It's been a while since he's had any, and his tolerance was lacking as a result. "I ain't rightly sure. I always 'ave 'ad an attraction tah smallah does." He gives Darcy a wink before he goes on, "Especially the moah attractive ones. Plus, yah know yah job and yah don't get on mah nerves with stupid meaningless speak."

"/Petite/," Darcy inserts into his answer, eyes narrowed, her ears back. One hand lifts, all fingers curled except for one, who points upward in some sort of faux philosophical gesture. "I am. .. /petite/. If you /must/, /must/ draw attention to my wee, wee stature. Then at least use a word that .. /sounds/ complimentary, see?" She's tipsy now - emphasizing more words, trying to fight back a grin without much success. "... so. Brenden."

Brenden watches the paw, and the finger that points, with a grin. Then he gets a mock serious face, "I do apologize, I had no intention to be insulting." Then he can't keep his grin hidden any longer, "Petite it is then Darcy. Jolly good. Now...so, Brenden, what?"

"So /Brenden/," Darcy snickers, shaking her head. The hand drops, landing on her thigh while the other brings up the bottle of vodka to her mouth, and she takes another swallow. "... so Bren. Brrrenden. You know I like your name. Brrr.. enden. What's your last name, hmmm?"

Brenden starts to chuckle softly, then takes the bottle away from her again so he can drink. "Thatchah. And come tah think of it, I don't know yah last name eithah," he says before taking a long drink, trying to get on the same level as she was. He was just glad that his parents didn't like him drinking, so he got good at speaking like he was sober.

Darcy's squinted eyes widen a little, and she blink-blinks into the dimness. "Emerson," is the doe's response. ".. it's Emerson. Heh, Thatcher. So was your dad a .. ... /Thatcher/? You know. The kind that .. thatches .. roofs and stuff?" she asks musingly, then gives a sudden giggle and snatches to reclaim the bottle, leaning a little precariously toward him to do so.

Brenden lets her take the bottle, and starts to put his arm out so he could catch her if she happened to fall. He still smiles, "My gran'fathah was. Now....my fathah is just a fahmah." He looks at Darcy, and meets her eyes with his. "I've...a...question. What did yah think...when I kissed yah fahst?"

Darcy doesn't fall; she wobbles a little and then rights herself by leaning the other way, taking a swallow of the vodka and then peering quizzically at the buck's face. "I .. thought ... 'oh bloody hell .. when did /this/ happen?'"

Brenden raises a brow at her, "When did what happen? Tha kiss? Yestahday....I think..." Then he takes the bottle from her again, taking another long drink. He was far from making a face at this point, but at least he found a beast he could share a drink with.

"No. .. no that's what I /thought/!" Darcy says with a low laugh, shaking her head. She makes a vague gesture with one hand, bangs in her face. "You kissed me, right? And I was thinking. 'when did this happen?' .. /this/ being .. ahh. Heh! Having someone interested in kissing me. Or. Or /something/. I mean I don't /know/ .. you. Right? ... right." Nod.

Brenden looks up for a second in thought, then finally nods, "Right." He wasn't sure what else he could say. He wasn't totally sure how he was feeling at the moment in question, or now for that matter.

"Right." Darcy is grinning. She claims the vodka again - or has she been holding it? The doe takes a drink, eyes the level of the liquid in the flask, and takes another drink, ending this with a little hiccuped sound of triumph. "... it's okay. You're cute. And I'm drunk. ... or I'm /nearly/ /there/ anyway. Are .. you repulsed yet?" It's asked with a little laugh, almost teasing.

Brenden watches the doe take a drink of the vodka. Impressed yes, repulsed, no. He shakes his head, "Can't say that I am. Yah 'aven't done anythin' 'at would irritate me." Then he reaches over to take the bottle from her, it was his turn and he wouldn't be stopped now. After he takes his drink, "I think yah cute too Dahcy. Ah'm glad I met yah." Then he gives her an honest smile.

Darcy extends her hand as the bottle is taken, a sort of grabby-hand motion that doesn't complete itself. Her fingers splay in the air and then curl toward her palm. "... say my name again," she tells him, muzzle working back into a little cheeky kind of grin, eyes sliding upward to meet his. "I like it. How .. heh, heheheh, your ah.. your accent and all. Say it again."

Brenden chuckles and takes another drink, since she didn't take it away and all. He then rests the bottle on his thigh and grins, "Dahcy. Dahcy Emahson." He takes in a breath and lets it out slowly, "Ah trah tah not let mah accent show so much. S'easiah tah blend in."

Darcy's eyes narrow a little and there's a look of affection in her gaze as it focused on his face. Tries to, anyway. "... well. I like it," the doe says with a decisive little nod. "So if you /must/ keep it in check. Heh. You have to at least say my name that way, okay?" As she makes this request - round-about demand, whatever it is - Darcy leans in, peering at him in an obviously tipsy manner and tapping her fingertips against the side of his muzzle for a moment. The other hand sneaks out to steal back the bottle.

Brenden nods after she is done, "Ah'll trah tah say yah name like 'at from now on." Then he smiles when she taps her fingers against his muzzle, getting distracted enough for her to take the bottle. He chuckles, "Yah didn' want anythin but tha drink. I see 'ow it is. Jolly good then wot?"

"... well. Whatever works then, right?" the doe says with a sideways look at him, nearly beaming, then tipping her head back for several swallows all at once. She's really pushing her limit. Darcy licks her lips and keeps ahold of the flask after, sniggering at him. "... so. Any more, ahh. .. hhn. Questions? I am a venerable /well/ of .." Hiccup. ".. information. Or not! You don't know til you try."

Brenden chuckles and doesn't reach for the bottle. He pulls his gaze away and thinks for a moment. After a bit he asks, "Weah yah glad I kissed yah?" Simple question, something that he'd not likely ask any other time.

Darcy's eyes narrow into more of a sly expression. "... I maybe wasn't /not/ glad you did!" is her response.

Brenden looks back over and raises a brow, "Maybe?"

Darcy sways in her seat, over toward Brenden, holding the bottle in one hand and bracing her other against his knee. "... that's what I said. You know. Just 'cause I'm drunk doesn't mean you're getting straight answers. .. straight/er/.. not-crooked. Or .. or twirly or twisty or ... heh."

Brenden starts to laugh at her reply, then reaches out to take the bottle. "Yah not gettin this back until I /do/ get a straight ansah theah, Dahcy Emahson."

Darcy's eyes widen almost comically and she makes a grab for the bottle. "Hey! That. That is /not/ /fair/, mister. Not ... mmphfine. You know I couldn't walk a straight /line/ right now much less provide a straight answer." She pouts at him, which is leagues from sulky and really just a pretty kind of endearing. "... you're an arse. Yes. Yes, what! /That's/ what I said!" This seems amusing because she starts cackling, low in the back of her throat, and pitches sideways off her barrel, stumbles, and knocks into Brenden with a little chirp of drunken dismay.

Brenden catches her when she falls into him, but still keeps the bottle away, "So...wots it?" When he blinks, it's a very slow blink. Everything about him says that he's not very far behind Darcy. His ears are even drooping on the sides of his head, with the right one bend in the middle, half covering his eye.

".. what's what?" Darcy mumbles back at him, blinking at Brenden's face and then straightening. She stands, sways, and turns her gaze to the bottle of vodka, staring hard, as if this alone will bring it back to her. ".. oh. Ohoh /oh/ you.. heh. You asked a question. ... what was it?"

Brenden chuckles and shakes his head, "I can't even 'membah." He looks into her eyes, then reaches out with a paw to sort of pull her in so he could give her a kiss.

Darcy sways backward as she's grasped, then the motion reverses and she leans in. Her hands fumble against Brenden's shoulders and the doe gives a soft 'heh' in the back of her throat just as their mouths meet.

Brenden releases her from his kiss after a long moment, then looks into her eyes, "I need tah be gettin off tah bed Dahcy." He takes in a breath and lets it out like he would much rather be sitting there with her for the rest of the night.

Darcy leans away and studies Brenden's face for a moment, very seriously. Or she's trying to look serious, which is more difficult to achieve given her complete lack of sobriety. "... I will have a headache tomorrow," she predicts, smirking, then flashing a grin. "And /then/ I will. I will .. not be glad of this. But right now I am. ... glad." And she nods, half-turning and making a gesture with her hand, like 'you can go now'.

Brenden doesn't leave right when he's 'dismissed'. He's far too stubborn for that. He's content to sit there with his arm around her for another long moment before he asks, "Will yah be able tah get tah yah room?"

Darcy tilts her head, considering the floor. Specifically the distance between where they are and the steps up to the kitchen. "You would be surprised," she says musingly, voice sounding more level, less... drunk. "I can act alarmingly sober when I need to. ... I'll be fine." And she shoots Brenden a little fond sideways look.

Brenden shakes his head, and sounds more caring than he usually does, "Ah'll stick around tah make sure yah make it safe." Then he turns his head away and hugs her close, "Ah'm not tha kind tah leave yah sittin heah aftah drinkin."

Darcy wrinkles her nose slightly at him. "... well. Let's go up, then? ... I'm sleepy." This is mumbled. "I. Am. ... a sleepy drunk." Her eyes close, then open, and she wanders swayingly toward the exit, pulling out of his grasp to do so.

Brenden follows her, making sure that she didn't fall. He would have wished that she didn't pull away from him, but he wasn't going to fight it. Right now his whole goal was to get her in bed so he could sleep.