A Mite-Soused Proposal

Slopnose, Aliyah

Location: Ruingate: Via Caspius

Slopnose is leaning against the wooden door of the priory with an ear pressed up against it, his face scrunched up into one of deep concentration mixed in with some exasperation.

After a brief look around one of the many stalls lining the street, Aliyah is slowly making her way back towards the Main Square. Her sharp eyes seem to dart all over the place, and as she draws nearer Slopnose her gaze seems to come to a rest on him...to the point of almost blatantly staring at him.

The perceptive abilities of a regular imbiber of alcohol leaves much to be desired and Slopnose is no exception. He only becomes aware of Aliyah's stare slowly, like a frog being slowly boiled alive. When awareness of her presence finally permeates its way into his conscious mind, he leans back upright with a jump and then manages to land not quite on the step he was standing on. The unhappy weasel falls faceflat into the street in a clatter of armor. "Aooww my pore ol' 'ead" he moans from his prostrate position.

Aliyah smirks openly as the stoat falls over. She gives her surroundings a quick glance before slowly making her way over to him. "That was...graceful." Aliyah's voice is flat, almost cold. And all of this under a sly grin that plays across the edges of her mouth.

Slopnose rolls over on his back so that his nose does not get further sloppified by prolonged exposure to the Ruingate cobblestones. He peers up at Aliyah while rubbing his noggin with a paw, not quite sure what to make of her. At least the pain is starting to ebb back into the general noise his favorite anesthesia is providing.

Aliyah is standing directly above the stoat now, and she leans down, her head tilted slightly to one side. Her nose twitches as she sniffs the air around him, but even though she may find his odor...well...rather pungent, she retains that same sly grin. The ferret seems quite unaware, or perhaps uncaring, about how odd it is to be leaning over a stranger like this.

Slopnose has evidently decided that Aliyah wasn't much of a threat. He sneers and props himself back up to a slightly less reclined position with his forearm and elbows. "Yer a pre'y one ain' ye? Wu's a gal like ye doin' in a place for figh'ers like 'ere?"

"Who says I'm not one of these fighters, eh?" Aliyah's expression is somewhat questioning.

Slopnose grins and scrabbles back to his feet. His humiliating fall completely forgotten, he essays a warrior's strut in front of the older ferret, making sure the scabbard of his weapon clatters prominently against his armor. He doesn't respond directly to Aliyah but merely confides, grinning, "I likes yer flowers."

Aliyah follows the stoat up into a standing position. For a moment she seems almost confused by his comment, but only for a moment. "Oh, thank you." She smiles a little, although there is something hidden behind that smile.

Slopnose grins lopsidedly and teeters drunkenly toward Aliyah, his eyes looking her up and down. Suddenly, he pauses abruptly before he gets quite too uncomfortably close to her, as if just thinking of something, and pats his side with his paw for a moment before fishing out a flask secreted in his clothing. He unfastens the cap and brings it part way to his grinning maw before pausing again, shuffling another few steps closer to Aliyah, his face mere inches from her. He offers her the mouth of the flask, still grinning stupidly.

The stoat's proximity doesn't seem to bother Aliyah much, but upon being offered the flask her expression sours by a fraction. "I am afraid I do not drink. Thank you anyway." A ferret that doesn't drink? This must be madness, but all the same she lightly pushes the flask back towards the stoat.

Slopnose shrugs and takes a draught from his flask, his expression flickering a little to the sour side as the concoction in the flask appear to offend even his own long-suffering gullet.

Aliyah shakes her head slightly as the concoction is downed. "Now wonder you fell over. The smell off that flask alone could knock out a sailor."

Slopnose beams at Aliyah, taking her testimonial of the potency of his beverage as one of the best compliments a gentlebeast could receive. "O' ye've bee' on t' sea afore? Me granda' was a sailor an' th' recipe was 'is... or wassit me grandmum..." He rambles on in a rapid and confused manner. He self-consciously adds, "Ye'll 'scuse me fo' ramblin' bu' I'm used t', well, bein' smacked in th' kisser on my very firs' leer when jawin' wi' someone of t' fairer sex an' all an' ye've kep' talkin' an' all an'" He blushes a little.

Aliyah needs a few solid seconds to decipher the weasel's accent. "The sea?" She says, almost as if to confirm what she heard. "No, I've never sailed in my life. But I've know more than a few beasts who have." She represses a dry chuckle at this point. "Well, I can't imagine why any female would want to belt you." It's clearly sarcasm, but in his drunken state he might just miss it.

Slopnose nods eagerly and says confidentially aside to Aliyah. "Some'imes I c'n be a liddle off-pu'in' when I've 'ad a bit, innit. Bu' I c'n a gennelbeas' too!" He sketches a comic-looking bow for Aliyah's benefit, his armor issuing cacophonous complaints as he does so.

"Mmhmmm..." Aliyah frowns ever so slightly as he bows. "And exactly how much have you had to drink today?"

"Oh lesse now... One... two freee..." He giggles and trails off counting, the latest dose beginning to take its toll on his cognitive abilities. His laughter trails off and he begins to regard Aliyah again, working furiously to keep his eyes focused. Soon enough, the weasel falls to one knee.

Slopnose asks, "Will ye marry me?"

A tiny nervous giggle escapes from Slopnose's mouth, but he manages to suppress it after a second.

Aliyah, rather than responding with words, places a fingertip on the weasel's forehead and pushes. If he is indeed this drunk then perhaps he will fall over, which would no doubt provide some matter a amusement to her.

Slopnose topples with a yelp. His arms flail uselessly, attempting to regain his balance a little too late for it to help any -- he's already sprawled once more on the cobblestones. "'Elp! Murder!" he shouts.

For the first time, Aliyah actually laughs. It's both a humored but cold laugh. "It's not murder yet, dear. Not murder yet." She leaves the weasel to fail on the cobbled street; herself heading back to the Main Square.