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

[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."