Caritas | Thursday Evening

[fortworeasons]

Laszlo, being neither a coffee drinker nor an alcohol drinker -- really, mostly just a blood drinker -- hadn't noticed much of anything was different.

At least, not until he arrived at the bar this week and examined a few of the bottles with a thoughtful frown.

"Put 'juice' on the sign, I suppose," he called to his cameraman, then turned around to try to find him...or Tino?

They were both asleep in the lounge, for the record. Day two of cold-turkey caffeine withdrawal was no joke.

Thus -- written in careful script, the board read:

Regular Human Juices!

That looked weird, now that he was examining it. Hmm.

[open with the caveat that boy do I have some SP I'm looking at today, ugh.]

Comments

[existencemisspent]

Eliot was . . . not doing well, no.

He was shaky and disheveled as he came into the bar, and let out a loud groan when he saw the specials board.

"Et tu, Caritas?" he asked, much too blithely for his clear despair. "Please tell me you at least have some regular human drugs on hand?"

[fortworeasons]

"Not that I'm aware," Laszlo commented thoughtfully, actually going so far as to stroke his beard as he considered. "I'm sure someone does! I'm surprised you don't, to be quite honest."

Eliot seemed like the sort of well-vested, cigarette-scented person who'd have all the fanciest drugs in a pocket.

[existencemisspent]

Yes, well. Eliot had been recently turned back into a human after more than a week as a cat, only to immediately find there was no booze on the entire island.

He'd taken all his drugs.

"Fresh out," he said on a long sigh. He slumped at the counter. "And I don't have the energy to head to the mainland tonight."

It was very hard being bacchanalian on an island that was enforcing Lent.

[fortworeasons]

"Why do you suppose this is happening? I've not known this island to be cruel before now," Laszlo wondered, prodding around the bottles in the hopes that maybe there was one he'd missed. "'Juniper berry juice.' Who would ever drink juniper berry juice?"

Because normally it went great with a lime slice and tonic water, Laz.

[existencemisspent]

"It would normally be fermented," Eliot said. "And distilled. Into gin." He let out a long dramatic sigh. "God but I miss gin."

He rested his head on his shaking hand.

"And I have no idea. Maybe it's bored. We had to deal with bored gods in my kingdom before. Turned half the population into rats. Totally cockblocked me. We murdered them, of course. The gods, not the rats."

[fortworeasons]

"Were you trying to fuck one of the previously-human rats?" Laszlo asked sympathetically. "That sounds personal, really. Why weren't you a rat? Might have solved things."

If Laszlo had been able to consume any of the currently-transformed substances, he would probably take it as a personal affront, too.

[existencemisspent]

"I was the High King. The whole point of turning people into rats was to watch me, specifically, go crazy trying to fix it."

God, he hated Ember.

"Of course, then I found out that the only reason he'd made me High King in the first place was because he thought I'd be an entertaining fuck up. Apparently trying to rule properly wasn't entertaining enough, so he was pulling out his bucket list of tricks before ending the world."

[fortworeasons]

"What a charmer. Though that sounds vaguely entertaining, for someone who is not trying to rule this kingdom. I love a good conversation with a rat." Laszlo was now considering the soda guns with a thoughtful little frown. "Doesn't Coca-Cola have cocaine in it? I could rustle up some of that!"

[existencemisspent]

"Not anymore," Eliot said, sounding like this fact was a personal slight against him and his appetites. "Hasn't had it in maybe a century, more's the pity."

[fortworeasons]

"Well, that seems like a stupid decision on their parts. No one will ever drink this now," Laszlo replied, as though that had not been thoroughly disproven over said past century. "I could fly you to the mainland, if you'd like."

It would not be, like, a graceful flight.

[existencemisspent]

"I'm very tempted," Eliot said. "But I suspect Margo would kill me."

But he wasn't actually saying no just yet.

[fortworeasons]

"As someone who has been married for several hundred years, I understand," Laszlo assured him, since Margo's role in Eliot's life seemed similar enough to that of a spouse. (And Margo and Nadja would probably get on famously, really.) "But -- as someone who has been married for several hundred years...what she doesn't know won't probably hurt you. Forgiveness rather than permission."

This was how Laszlo had landed himself in situations where witches he'd once bedded decided to try to take him hostage, but you know. It didn't always shake out that way.

[existencemisspent]

"And she can't be too mad if I manage to bring her home a nice bottle of wine," Eliot mused. (It wouldn't work, but it wasn't as though he knew that yet.) "And a nice bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain. Mama needs her caffeine."