Drunk and Orderly [Open]

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Marsallo sat at the bar, pouring drinks down his throat. Big drinks. Huge even. Like... a good 65% bigger than his usual thimble of soda water.

"Must be for mmm... big people," he said, turning his head to peer deep into the large, empty thimble. He hiccuped once, then tossed the thimble aside. "Another please!" he said, slapping a coin down on the bar. Today, wasn't a good day. Third time this week that a bigger card had run him off without paying for his services. Fortunately, Marsallo's more rodentine nature really kicked in for the better, and he'd scrounged up quite a meal. Quite an unsavory meal. Washing it down was taking sterner stuff than normal. All in all, he felt that his mental capacity had been reduced by at least 20% since arriving at the bar. Maybe more, less? How much was a margin of error if you know you have a bigger margin of error, and how much less is it if you know that you know?

[Lucca]

A new figure pushed open the door of the bar with a loud creaking sound (someone needed to oil the hinges better, apparently) and large, dark eyes peered around the room before the form of the Chicken fully entered. Her feathers were fluffed up, the hat and flowy scarf she wore were in disarray, and it was painfully obvious she was out of place here.

Maybe it was this nervousness more than anything else that made her gravitate towards the Mouse, as he also seemed distinctly strange among the usual patrons of the bar. She took the stool next to him, dark eyes wide and fixed ahead of her, wings fluttering in small, nervous motions. She seemed to note his presence finally, and turned to him, more whites showing in her eyes than normal (not that you could tell). "Oh, uh...hello, sir," she tittered. "Are you...quite drunk?" She gave him a nervous, yet concerned, sort of look over.

She didn't even look over at the bartender that was trying to get her attention. She wasn't here to drink, most certainly not! She of all Cards would know better!

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Marsallo tipped back his little thimble again. At first he didn't quite catch the fact that another card was talking to him. He -was- drunk after all. Looking over at the feathery card that was speaking to him he resolved that he was not yet drunk enough, or perhaps too drunk. It was probably one or the other.

"In fact I am," the little mouse chirped back to his new companion. "Quite drunk, quite drink indeed."

Marsallo grinned, wobbling just a little bit. Balance reduced by 32%, he noted. Though he resolved that if he fell over this number would need to be reassessed. Preferably from a bed.

"If you need an accountant, or just.... a math.. er.. mather..... mmm I do numbers. Do you need numbers?"

((I am very sorry for my long disappearance, I had to move to a different state rather suddenly to start a new job and then the holidays kept me really busy and I sort of lost track of how long it'd been since I stopped by. I am now in a stable location, and have resolved to be a more reliable player here.))

[Old Gobbo]

"Not in that condition, she doesn't," a deep voice rumbled from the seat opposite the drunken Card. The bird in the bright colors that occupied that seat gave a respectful nod. "Not that I mean to interrupt. It has not exactly been a busy day here for me, I'm afraid. Didn't mean to pry, ma'am."

In point of fact, Amherst had spent some time here since he'd posted his notice. He had expected offers already. But it was as if something was in the air. People were nervous on the streets. Was something going on outside that he was unaware of? Perhaps he'd chosen this location poorly. He could have presented himself to the Court of Diamonds itself. No, no, he told himself. They will come to you if they find you worthy.

He thrust out his wing and a hand, and honest to goodness hand, reached across the table. "I'm Amherst."

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Startled by the apparent sudden appearance by the brightly colored card, Marsallo took a long look at his thimble of... what had he ordered? It was irrelevant. He put it down on the bar with a grimace. It'd taken the edge off his senses having let such a brightly colored individual go unnoticed so long. Not a good thing at all for such a small card as Marsallo. Particularly such a small card that whose disappearance would probably go unnoticed.

The name'sh Binksh.... Marshallow Binksh..." he offered, holding out a paw to the avian's... err.. wing... talon.... finally he settled on the beak, reached for it, then had a crisis of survival instinct and pulled his paw back with a nervous shrug.

[Old Gobbo]

He had frightened the fellow. Even an idiot could see that. Of course, it didn't help that the fellow was such a small guy and Amherst's father's emu heritage made him substantially larger.

Oh, and he'd interrupted them.

Oh, and the nearby halberd probably didn't help.

Oh, and the sword on his belt.

Oh.

Clearly, Amherst had overstepped his bounds. It would be proper to apologize. "I'm sorry if I startled you, Marshmallow." Er, at least that's what Amherst thought the little guy had said. "You may rest assured that I neither bite, nor scratch, nor intend to startle. I was trying only to be friendly, and failing at that."

Amherst shifted, the bright feathers falling into place around him as he hunkered over his scotch. "If you wish, I will return to my drink and not bother you further." There was a twinkle in his blue eye. "But I hope that is not your wish."

[Lucca]

Molly made a little worried noise in the back of her throat, looking the Mouse over. "Oh...oh dear. Then perhaps you should..." She trailed off, giving the half-full glass in front of him a meaningful and rather disgusted look. Of course, before she could properly put into words this feeling, he went on and said something else. Something that made no sense and came out all jumbled. She blinked. "I...I'm sorry, sir, but what?" Before the Mouse had a chance to explain, another voice, deeper and far more sober, came from across the bar.

The Chicken slowly turned to look...and caught her breath, a small blush rising to her face beneath her white feathers. Oh...oh my. Her small beak opened and closed a few times as she looked at the man, with his bright feathers and his...was that some sort of weapon, behind him?

Molly was struck speechless for several long moments, almost not hearing the words the other two were saying. When the Bird-mix--Amherst, he had said--offered to return to his drink, Molly finally found her voice. "Oh, no, there's no need for that, sir!" she said breathlessly, straightening her hat and scarf and feathers quickly with her wings. "You're not bothering us at all. My name is Molly." She hoped her voice sounded somewhat normal and he didn't think her a fool. Oh! Oh, she should have activated her Diamond charm ability! Why did she always forget to do such a thing in situations like this? But Amherst had such pretty feathers...

[Old Gobbo]

Amherst nodded slowly towards the Card. "Molly, it is a pleasure to meet you." He raised his glass of scotch toward the two cards. "To new meetings, to honored compatriots, to happy memories." He, then, drained the entire glass in one go.

It burned on the way down. That was not surprising; it was, after all, not a very good scotch. The burning sensation actually gave him pause and he was able to study his two new acquaintances. He noticed one important thing. They did not belong here.

The chicken was prim, almost proper. What was she doing in a bar that was known to get violent when the sun set over the capital? Her place was in the courts among fine linen. And the mouse was quite a conundrum too. In the Mid-Range, cards that dealt in numbers seemed to take an almost fierce pride in staying away from man's favorite pastime. Why, then, was this mouse in a bad bar getting drunk off bad liquor?

He had to ask. "If it's not too forward, may I ask what brings the both of you to Furgus'? You seem slightly out of place here." He chuckled a bit at that. After all, he seemed slightly out of place there too.

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Marsallo frowned, stirring his drink with a fingertip, then sucking the alcohol out of the fur. It was better than guzzling another one down right?

"I came to eshcape my troubles, shuch as they are," the mouse said at length. He looked up at the Emu, squinting to try to make out the larger card's face. The haze of drunkeness was not contributing well to his recognition. What had he said? something about compatriots. Did Marsallo know him? He certainly didn't think so, but then right now, Marsallo was drunk enough to believe either way. His primary, and immediate, concern was that this might perhaps be one of the non-paying patrons which had driven him to this point. If the emu wanted trouble though, he certainly didn't act it.

"I am not sho interesting myself," Marsallo said, smiling up at the emu. He looked over at the other avian: Molly. She was sober, and she seemed to like him, probably a good sign.

"Please sir, join ush for the night," another grin. He'd lost count of how many, but he was sure alcohol made him grin a lot. "What brings you to Fungush bar...?" Was that the name? He wasn't sure. He decided he didn't care.

[Lucca]

Molly let out a quiet cluck of worry when Amherst drank his entire glass down. Oh, she didn't want to be in the company of TWO horribly drunk Cards! It had been a bad idea to come here...a very bad idea. She smiled nervously, dark eyes darting around the dim bar, and moved a tiny bit closer to Marsallo. At least he seemed mostly harmless, despite being wildly drunk.

And then...she was asked that question. It wasn't one she wanted to answer, not at all, and she made a small involuntary noise, looking flustered. "Well I...I just thought I'd...try to...find someone..." It sounded foolish now, and she flushed, looking down at the counter top. She wasn't entirely sure what or who she was looking for. She'd had the half mad idea of finding the Card she'd met the other day at work and apologizing to him...but that was so silly. She didn't even know his name. She'd also had to get away from the Cards outside...they'd been bothering her...

Hearing a sucking motion, Molly turned to the Mouse beside her, glad for the distraction, and stared in horror as he wet his dexterous rodent fingers in alcohol and then licked them. "Stop that at once!" she snapped, smacking his paw with a wing. "You've had enough." She tried to push his glass away from him. A quiet fury was in her eyes, now. She felt powerless at home...she could never stop her mother from drinking. She didn't want to see someone else fall to the same fate. "This isn't going to solve your problems, Sir." This time she infused the words with Charm, her voice gentling a bit.

Basic Magical Ability: She can act charismatic and persuasive at times, whether or not she actually has the natural charm and grace to pull it off.