To Drown Out

[warriorscribe]

Characters: Enoch never intended it but, everyone who's up for drinking!
Setting: Cafeteria, throughout the day (sorry team indigo)
Format: Party, do what you want!
Summary: With Riki being generous with the food again, Enoch decides to see, first, if he can still get drunk at all, and second, if being drunk will help keep his new headmate quiet. A (not-so-) surprising amount of people are likely to be interested in drinking with him.
Warnings: Drunken shenanigans. Possible angst because he might actually talk about Eleven under the influence. Might also talk about gory details of the meeting with Ruana. Did I say drunken shenanigans? I think I need to say that again.

*Much like just before the glamour failure, Enoch sits with several bottles of red wine from the kitchen stock. Unlike then, he has no extra glasses out to share with. He is not drinking to a plunge into the unknown. He is drinking to drown things. Mostly, the voice screaming in his head.

But nothing really changes the fact that any modern wine is of much higher quality than anything his time could produce, and he's savoring its flavor too, in long sips. It's almost a distraction, itself.

Speaking of distractions, he certainly won't object to any company, and if it turns into a larger gathering he may get so caught up in it he'll forget how much he's had.

And so might you. Care to grab a drink for yourself? He won't mind if you ask for some of the wine he has.*

((ooc: Of course you can approach Enoch like any other log, but due to interest expressed this is actually more of a mingle! Start games and contests if you'd like or just hang out and have your characters get drunk or bodyguard or spectate. Please identify new games and contests in the header to make it clearer to people scrolling through! Naturally there can be several threads of the same game, considering this isn't organized at all.

Have fun, and do keep an eye out for monsters...))

Comments

[destructiveprinciples]

[ His ears perk up at the sound of footsteps approaching his corner of the room, and wariness half-stirs when he senses it's an older Servant.

Oh, Goldie? With a hairstyle-change. . . Well then, that guy wasn't usually inclined to start a fight when he could be drinking all the wine instead. Good enough. ]

Yeah? [ He lowers his cup, eyebrow lifting up. ]

[bowandblade]

You give off a ... stench, for a Servant. Who are you? [Okay, stench probably wasn't the most appealing of ways to describe the vibe, but hey -- he'll tell it like it is.

It'll probably take him a bit, but he's sensed something like this from the dark Saber he had met.]

[destructiveprinciples]

[ He chuckles carelessly, understand what the question was referring to yet deliberately choosing to be unhelpful about it. ] Are you sayin' I stink? Niice, Goldie. Maybe I just haven't taken a bath in awhile, huh?

[ That wariness hasn't left, but Gilgamesh, even one that seemed a little oFf, was predictable. A name wouldn't hurt. ] Avenger.

[bowandblade]

Avenger. [He tilts his head at the name, the title, and his eyes briefly fall half-lidded with a probing look. Some sort of irregular Servant? Or someone from a world where Servants had been redefined?

The aura alone told him he wasn't looking at a Heroic Spirit.

But he'll let that pass for now, cutting to a quick smile as he leans in to poke the smaller Servant in the chest.]

How very bold of you to blame your stench on a lack of hygiene. So are you now trying to drink until you smell of wine?

[sixbillionsins]

Don't wear it out. [ He says into his drink.

And then Gilgamesh, smiling, leans in to jab a finger towards his chest and Avenger immediately tips back in his chair, leaning away from him so the only thing he pokes is empty air. The cup is left on the table.

There's no visible displeasure or disgust in his eyes; just the refusal to be touched. Then he shoves the older Servant' hand away, resuming his prior position and setting the chair back on its legs. He's grinning again. ]

Can't say I'm overly familiar with taking a dip in hot water, anyway. [ A languid blink. ] Huh? Does drink smell that much better than filth?

[bowandblade]

[He hums but says nothing judgmentally to the way that Avenger leans away from his touch, clearly amused but fine with leaving the matter at that for now.

He's too busy scoffing over the question, taking the hand he had intended to poke with and instead flapping it dismissively.]

The drink is of low quality, but it is still more appealing than you. You should drink until it improves your state.

[destructiveprinciples]

[ Not that he would have cared about judgmental words had Gilgamesh chosen to utter any. He clicks his tongue at the dismissive hand flapping, considering whether or not he should tip his drink onto the older Servant's shoes. Or in his face. ]

Harsh words, huh? Okay, okay, your Majesty. [ He says with dry sarcasm. Your fashion sense was even less appealing than he was, but you didn't see him nagging you about it, eh? ]

Grab a low-quality drink and we'll give it a shot. No promises of improvement.

[bowandblade]

[Archer smirks, his eyes almost glittering at that sarcastic tinge and title from this strange Servant. Was he using his title as king in jest? Not even the hound was so flippant.

But at the suggestion, he nods in approval.] We will see improvement, one way or another.

[Even if he had to beat it into him. The prospect broadens his smile as he goes to retrieve a few bottles more of the wine.]

[sixbillionsins]

[ He's smirking too. ] Just bursting with certainty, aren't you?

[ While Gilgamesh, smiling a tad too happily, is retrieving a couple more wine bottles to bring back to the table, Angra empties the cup he already had filled. Said empty cup had vanished from the table by the time Archer returns. (He lobbed it at some distant, unlucky's bystander's head and broke it.) ]