Drunk and Orderly [Open]

[Old Gobbo]

Amherst could see that he had somehow flustered Molly, and that had not been his intention. And Marsallo – yes, that was clearly the mouse’s name – was damn near getting his head bit off. It was time to diffuse the situation. It was time to act like the Guardian he was.

He moved as quickly around the bar as his dexterous legs let him and set himself behind, but also somewhat between the two Cards. “She’s right, you know,” Amherst told the tiny mouse. “As hard as it may be, we cannot run from our problems or forget them in a bottle of cheap booze. For your problems are always with you, and escape is just a temporary measure, one that strains the sanity if done too long or too often.”

He didn’t know why he did so all of a sudden, but he chose to help the Card that he had just met. “Lay your problems in front of us. Together, we can solve them quickly and with prejudice.” Then, he remembered what the mouse had last said. “We can even make a night of it.”

Then, he quickly turned to Molly and told her, sotto voce, “I can help, milady, if you’ll allow. I’ve been sipping that one drink for two hours now. I am fully in control of my faculties.”

[Jaryn Frostwing]

This seemed to be enough to dissuade Marsallo from reaching for the glass again. He rubbed his temples, brow furrowed in frustration.

"Forgetting, yes forgetting is the problem isn't it," he mumbled with only limited coherency. He pushed his drink away at the woman's suggestion. A drowsy blink and a slap across his own face, and the mouse seemed to sober up a bit.

"I'm shorry..." he mumbled. "Ish been a bad day. I'm afraid I losht my manners for a minute there. Yes please, tell us your troubles. I will do my besht to solve them. I feel like I could take on the whole shum of the world right now!" Marsallo grinned, for he knew the whole sum of the world, or at least a fair approximation, and it was no small number. The intoxicants he'd consumed had clearly diminished his rodentine sense of fear...

[Lucca]

Molly continued to glare at the Mouse, and when Amherst set himself a bit between she and he, the Chicken turned her glare upon him--for a moment. When he spoke, not only agreeing with her, but agreeing with her so eloquently that she knew without even looking than this Bird was a fellow Diamond, her dark eyes widened and she blinked. "That's...that's just...perfectly right," she said, flustered once more by Amherst's charms. But no...no! She needed to get herself together if she wanted to help this poor Mouse become like so many other lost souls who turned to drink and became mere shadows of their former selves.

She turned and her beak curved into a smile at Marsallo. "Oh, it's quite all right, I forgive you," she began, and then tilted her head as he asked... He'd apparently misunderstood something vital. "No, dear, it's YOUR problems we were going to discuss...you know, what led you to...this?" She gestured at the glass with a wing, and then turned to shoot Amherst a worried look. The Mouse was really confused and drunk. Could they even get anything coherent out of him? She gave him a brief smile, hoping that conveyed her gratefulness that he was here to help, and tried not to get distracted by his feathers again.

[Old Gobbo]

Amherst pulled up the bar stool next to Marsallo. It hadn't technically been empty a second ago, but whoever sat there apparently didn't like the way this conversation was headed and had left. Probably didn't like that whole talk of not drinking. Amherst had to repress a snort. The barkeep probably didn't like it either.

So, in a foolish effort to please everyone at the same time, Amherst picked up the bar menu and quickly ordered the appetizer sampler. Feeling better, he turned back to Marsallo. The mouse was showing his bravery with the last comment...or, well, it could have been the drink. Still, it was nice to think that, if he was asked the eternal question, "Are we men or mice?", he could legitimately answer "both."

He patted the mouse square on the back. "So, Mr. Binx, what is it you want to forget? And what can we could to help?"

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Marsallo swallowed hard. He was the center of attention now it seemed, and that made him uncomfortable.

"It's my job you see," he said after a moment. He started to fiddle with his hands.

"I've not been paid for... mosht of my work.. It seems that many of my clients so far have not been very up to date on the tax code, or intereshted in adhering to it," he grimaced.

"So they shout at me, tell me I am wrong, and refushe to pay for my servicesh, claiming incompetence. See, if they paid, they'd admit their own guilt or shtupidity." He scowled, staring down at the counter top. It had been a bad idea to come here. Alcohol wasn't cheap, and money was tight.

[Lucca]

Molly was a bit relieved that Amherst was ordering something. The barman had sort of been hovering near her and giving her unfriendly looks, and it had been worrying the Chicken a bit. Or perhaps she was just being paranoid. That was also possible. She really didn't belong here, after all. Foolish ideas. Foolish wild goose chase that had led her here.

That was why she was glad they were talking about the Mouse's problems, as she had no wish to feel foolish in front of Amherst. She listened to Marsallo talk and made a worried noise in the back of her throat. She wasn't quite sure what to say...her own work had never refused to pay her, after all. "Couldn't you...get the police on them for not paying you? Isn't that wrong of them not to do that?" she asked, looking unsure and hesitant. After all, she'd never had to deal with those matters. Being a secretary might not have been the best job in the world, but it was simple and she always got her paycheck on time and in the expected amount.

[Old Gobbo]

Amherst’s head dropped. This was an unfortunate tale, and not one he could lend his particular brand of expertise to. He knew how to fight, but the Code required protection, not an offensive. He was not a thug or a bruiser. He could not bully Marsallo’s employers into paying him. Molly’s idea was sound, except for the fact of…

“The police don’t have jurisdiction over breach of contract. Stealing goods is a crime, but not stealing services. Such a breach usually requires the courts to get involve, civilly. Not to mention, if you’re strapped for cash, then the courts aren’t exactly an option. However, there are the Courts, capital C.”

Yes, this is something he could do. Help for Marsallo and help for him. “We could go to the Courts together and present your case. I could act as a character witness to your integrity. Perhaps the Queens might issue an edict forcing them to pay you. It’s a little petty for the Courts to deal with, I suppose, but it has a shot.”

[Jaryn Frostwing]

Marsallo sighed, heavily. "It'sh not a bad idea really, he said, "but you've only known me for a few minutes shir, and a sad few minutesh it has been for me. Intoxicated like shome common shwamp rat. Besides, I think the real sholu.... sholu.... answer... here, ish a new line of work, with more reputable clients. No more taxesh for me."

Marsallo stood. Badly. He immediately tumbled backward into the bar with a soft thud. He rose unsteadily, clinging to the barstool for support, one hand clutching his bruised head.

"oomph... clumshy me," he said, grumbling.

[Lucca]

Molly's head fell a bit at Amherst's words. So the police could do nothing in this case? That sounded grossly unfair to Molly, as clearly the Mouse was being wronged. She hoped that Amherst did not find her a fool for thinking she was being helpful when she clearly wasn't. But at least he had another idea...although, the Courts? The Chicken's eyes widened. "Would you really do that for him?" she asked in awe, dark eyes wide. How wonderful this man was! How sweet and selfless! He was a true gentleman, she thought fiercely.

Her rather doting thoughts were interrupted by the Mouse deciding to stand up...and instead smashing his head into the bar. Molly made a worried noise and rushed to Marsallo's side. "Are you all right, Marsallo? Maybe we should bring you somewhere you can lie down..." She automatically put her wing around his shoulder, trying to support him in his further attempts to move. After all, maybe they should get him out of the bar, so he wasn't tempted to go for the bottle again, as they say. Molly shot the selection of alcoholic drinks behind them a withering look, as if they would change themselves harmlessly into water in their shame.

[Jaryn Frostwing]

((Wine into water... that'd be a nifty trick ))

Marsallo had lost all interest in the spirits. The churning in his stomach and his embarassment had certainly taken the edge off his desire to drown his sorrows. In fact it seemed to have had the opposite effect. Still, the experience had been cathartic. He'd learned two things: First, people looking for very cheap accountants often already had an answer in mind and really just wanted his signature. Second, alcohol was not agreeable to him. In fact, ergh, he was beginning to worry that if he didn't take steps to get some sort of food on his stomach, he might be voicing that disagreement in a public manner.

"No thanks... " Marsallo mumbled, grinning dumbly up at Molly. "I think I would rather get a shnack... my stomach is sore...."