Fire up that fiddle, boy, and bring me one last drink [open]

[truthsandlyres]

Who: Apollo and YOU, please

What: Having a drink

Where: One of the taverns by the inn

When: Sukkardi (Saturday)evening

Notes: Multiple threads okay!

Warnings:Tipsy Apollo?

Apollo was not unfamiliar with battle. He'd watched dozens of them. Hundreds of them, maybe. He knew how war worked, understood that people were drawn to bloodshed, believed that world peace would never be achieved. Still, it had never mattered before.

He had never been in the middle of it before.

The whole event had left a bad taste in his mouth, which was why he found himself knocking back drinks. More than ever, he was eager to get back home, to be able to distance himself from all the unpleasantry again. "Another," he called out, pushing his empty glass back. Half distracted by a woman down at the other end of the bar with dark eyes and a large chest. Eyeing him less than discretely and he felt nothing. A sigh of disgust. What was wrong with him?

Comments

[heardmermaids.livejournal.com]

Sebastian has been cooped up in Hellsing's guild hall for nearly the entirety of the week and while he was able to function well and do all the work that needed doing, he relishes the ability to take Velcro and just go have a seat in some random tavern. After answering a few questions about his dog (yes, well-behaved, yes, necessary) and placing his order for a snack and whatever was good and non-alcoholic, he takes a seat near the end of the bar to wait.

[edsidlemirth.livejournal.com]

Eddie is not so much interested in hanging out in any bars as he is knowing which ones are where, and what sorts of people can be found there. It's a preliminary and pretty trivial sort of exploration, but necessary, and hey, if there's people around having fun, or at least trying to relax after the past week's insanity, it's not going to be boring.

He approaches the bar slowly, chatting with a few people as he makes his way across the room. Finally, he sits down, all smiles.

[wandandsickle]

Jones was still trying to get a sense of the lay of the land around Baedal, after getting settled in the inn. For one thing, she still hadn't found a coffee shop. Was this one--no, another tavern. Dammit.

Then again, she could also do with a drink drink after a day like this. She elbowed her way through the crowd and took a seat at the bar a couple seats down from a tall blond man who was, apparently, attempting to drink his way through the establishment's stock.

She waved the bartender over. "Sidecar, please," she said.

[cassie_of_troy]

Sometimes, Cassandra just knew things. At first, when she was younger, she would often blame it on the prophecy curse. Gradually, over time, however, she had learned otherwise. Prophecies were all well and good, but she could glean just as much knowledge from observation. That was a side effect of the prophecy, or rather, a side effect of what the prophecy had done to her, socially speaking. She was very good at being on the outside and looking in. And somehow, that instinct kicked in as she was walking past the tavern, on her way back to the inn.

She was tired and dirty and sick to death of all of the creeping, crawling things that had been visiting the city, but nevertheless, she stepped inside of the tavern. The smell of alcohol was overbearing. It reminded her of the symposiums her father would sometimes hold. But rather than fling the dregs of their drinks into a cup, the drunken men seemed more preoccupied with a well-endowed woman sitting at the bar.

Cassandra sighed, ready to leave, but as she was turning, she spotted Apollo out of the corner of her eye. For a moment, she seriously considered cracking him over the head with her bow. Don't tell anyone, he said. Well, that had gone well. And of course, where had he been while all the rest of them were fighting for their lives? She suspected he had been here, eying the busty woman. Her blood began to boil.

[indiscreet]

The Huntress was sorry to see the endless battle end -- and that was just the problem. Anna had given her other self free reign during the invasion, and now, recalling the bloodshed and the destruction, just thinking of her behavior, of the way she had laughed, made her stomach twist with something like nausea. It had to be in her head, she knew -- she was beyond such silly mortal matters as feeling sick to her stomach. Nevertheless, it had been far harder to reclaim herself, to reclaim Anna, than she wanted to admit.

And for now, a bar full of drunk men looked like nothing more than blessed familiarity. If she were lucky, perhaps she would even manage a drink -- after all, she had less blood than she would like, now that she'd used it to heal.

She sat down at the bar and did her best to look open to flirtation.