[ She shoots him a baleful look in response to that... snicker. In fact, she keeps shooting it the more he goes on—and it's not like she can't admit that he has a point. Maybe. She's just not admitting it right now, because that stubborn streak of hers is a mile wide and she hasn't quite exhausted it yet.
Or maybe she's just a shitty teenager talking back to her drunkle. She's got the pout for it and everything. ]
Why can I not do both?
[ As for the glass of... something definitely alcoholic, judging by the smell... she eyes it warily, looking a little green around the gills. The thought of drinking that, after what happened last night— ]
Are you certain this will work?
[ Well, if he says so... what does she has to lose? Probably what she's eaten of her breakfast, actually. With a deep breath, she picks up the shotglass and clinks it against his. ]
[Oh brother. To be perfectly fair, Richie had been a far bigger handful as a youngin' himself, but even so he can start to see how parental fatigue was a chronic epidemic.]
No one is impressed if you topple a dumbass. Evolution'll take care of them. Besides, they're usually too stupid to know when they're good and reamed. Would you say the nails driving in your skull are worth it right now? Bet you couldn't even point the suckers out in a crowd. They don't matter one bit, so beating them doesn't either.
[She's none too pleased to see the return of the devil that did her dirty, but she's not declining. Richie happily toasts along with her.]
'Course it will. Cheers, my liege!
[He takes his back with only a slight wince, and returns to his brunch.]
[ The whiskey burns down her throat, but she somehow manages to knock it all back at once—somehow. It makes her cough when she comes back up, her face twisted into an expression of disgust. ]
Oh, goodness... my word! Do people truly drink this... swill?
[ Because that's what it tastes like to her. She's probably used to like, vintage wines and cuvee champagnes—and she probably couldn't even taste what she was drinking last night anymore.
Mila help her. At least the whiskey settles all right in her stomach, which is probably the best she could've hoped for. She isn't sure if it's making her feel better yet, though... does it take a while to kick in? In the meantime, she's just going to keep digging into this delicious food. ]
Yes, I believe you've quite made your point. [ Not that she's saying anything about agreeing with it. She frowns and looks away—sighs. ] I should apologize, in any case, for losing my patience just now. My brother has long warned me that I can be far too willful.
I do appreciate your assistance, both yesternight and now—as well as your wisdom.
[Obviously they do, because Richie's looking happy as a clam. That could also be that she's having such a struggle with it. Children.]
You'll warm up to it. Give it a few years. Maybe ease in with a couple cocktails first. Bet you'd like a whiskey sour, that's got tang and sweet to pull back the punch.
[Her brother sounds right. It's not necessarily a bad thing. And lord knows Richie's good enough to dish out the platitudes, but does he follow his own advice? Do as I say and not as I do, as that old adage goes. Hard to be a certified trash talker and not take some pride in knocking around dunderheads with clever barbs.
Even so, that's different.]
No apology needed. You are actually about the most polite person I've met, come to think of it. And I'm saying that after I've seen you puking, so you best believe I'm being honest.
[He does smile at the gratitude, and warmly so. None of the shit-eating grin that he'd been throwing left, right, and center.] Well, you're welcome. Don't know about wisdom, but I've been on the other end of this conversation enough. Time to start shaking fingers at the people repeating my mistakes, I reckon.
What do you do around here? When you're not, uh, riding the pegasus or whatever. You got a job?
[ The look on her face advertises her extreme skepticism, but she does give him this: ]
I must take your word for it.
[ Her brow creases a little at the mention of her least finest moment, if only because she just really... wants to forget about it. She had thought that it couldn't get worse than the last time she'd puked, to borrow his succinct phrasing, but it seems that she's topped herself. What a mess.
But the expression on his face is such a sincere one that she finds her frown softening, little by little, into a smile. ]
I can see that you are a truly kind man, Mister Tozier—ah, Rich.
Ah, yes, my job! [ She perks up. Who looks this happy to talk about their job? Well... ] I work at Shades Darker as a server. Is that not so very quaint?
[ Yeah, she's never held down a job in her life, so it's still all so very Novel and Exciting to her, even months later. Exchanging labor for money? What a concept! ]
[That's a little bit adorable. Jesus. He mimes whipping out a pen and paper, poising them like some overzealous newsboy grabbing the scoop. You can practically see the length of the pen whipping back and forth and loop-de-loop as he jots the testimony down.] Uh huh uh huh, may I quote ya on that one, Missy? We've got accounts by the dozen and they're all contradicting harder than a pinko pitted 'gainst his own platform, it's good to get the real scoop, y'see? Trying to get the big picture on this Tozier fella has been a real muck-a-round.
[The second bit comes as news to him. The act is dropped as pleasant befuddlement assumes its seat.]
Are you now? Well I'll be, I'm a bartender there. How is it that we've missed each other? [And, because she is very young and quite cute, he feels a pressing need to ask:] Uh...no one's gone bothering you there, have they?
[There were classier places to wait on tables, Lady Clair, and he knows what men are like. Sweet Lord does he know.]
[ This impression also goes right over her head, since she's from medieval times so why they hell would she have any context for a reporter kabby seriously why does he keep doing this. They haven't invented newspapers in Valentia yet. Or printing presses. Or reading, probably, if you're a peasant.
She still watches with amusement anyway, if only because she's pretty easily amused, and if only in mostly uncomprehending amusement. ]
I suppose it is a rather large establishment...
[ She taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. Maybe they just have different schedules? Who knows, really.
As for the next question— ]
Oh, no! [ She sniffs. ] Hmph, well—no one of any importance, in any case.
[ That is, no one she can't handle. Do you really think she puts up with even the smallest amount of nonsense? But in all honesty, the amount of customers who make trouble for her is a small fraction of the total. Most patrons have their hands full enough with the models, anyway, that they usually leave her in peace. ]
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Or maybe she's just a shitty teenager talking back to her drunkle. She's got the pout for it and everything. ]
Why can I not do both?
[ As for the glass of... something definitely alcoholic, judging by the smell... she eyes it warily, looking a little green around the gills. The thought of drinking that, after what happened last night— ]
Are you certain this will work?
[ Well, if he says so... what does she has to lose? Probably what she's eaten of her breakfast, actually. With a deep breath, she picks up the shotglass and clinks it against his. ]
To the new year, then. Cheers!
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No one is impressed if you topple a dumbass. Evolution'll take care of them. Besides, they're usually too stupid to know when they're good and reamed. Would you say the nails driving in your skull are worth it right now? Bet you couldn't even point the suckers out in a crowd. They don't matter one bit, so beating them doesn't either.
[She's none too pleased to see the return of the devil that did her dirty, but she's not declining. Richie happily toasts along with her.]
'Course it will. Cheers, my liege!
[He takes his back with only a slight wince, and returns to his brunch.]
Not totally, mind you. But it helps.
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Oh, goodness... my word! Do people truly drink this... swill?
[ Because that's what it tastes like to her. She's probably used to like, vintage wines and cuvee champagnes—and she probably couldn't even taste what she was drinking last night anymore.
Mila help her. At least the whiskey settles all right in her stomach, which is probably the best she could've hoped for. She isn't sure if it's making her feel better yet, though... does it take a while to kick in? In the meantime, she's just going to keep digging into this delicious food. ]
Yes, I believe you've quite made your point. [ Not that she's saying anything about agreeing with it. She frowns and looks away—sighs. ] I should apologize, in any case, for losing my patience just now. My brother has long warned me that I can be far too willful.
I do appreciate your assistance, both yesternight and now—as well as your wisdom.
[ Yeah, old man. ]
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You'll warm up to it. Give it a few years. Maybe ease in with a couple cocktails first. Bet you'd like a whiskey sour, that's got tang and sweet to pull back the punch.
[Her brother sounds right. It's not necessarily a bad thing. And lord knows Richie's good enough to dish out the platitudes, but does he follow his own advice? Do as I say and not as I do, as that old adage goes. Hard to be a certified trash talker and not take some pride in knocking around dunderheads with clever barbs.
Even so, that's different.]
No apology needed. You are actually about the most polite person I've met, come to think of it. And I'm saying that after I've seen you puking, so you best believe I'm being honest.
[He does smile at the gratitude, and warmly so. None of the shit-eating grin that he'd been throwing left, right, and center.] Well, you're welcome. Don't know about wisdom, but I've been on the other end of this conversation enough. Time to start shaking fingers at the people repeating my mistakes, I reckon.
What do you do around here? When you're not, uh, riding the pegasus or whatever. You got a job?
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I must take your word for it.
[ Her brow creases a little at the mention of her least finest moment, if only because she just really... wants to forget about it. She had thought that it couldn't get worse than the last time she'd puked, to borrow his succinct phrasing, but it seems that she's topped herself. What a mess.
But the expression on his face is such a sincere one that she finds her frown softening, little by little, into a smile. ]
I can see that you are a truly kind man, Mister Tozier—ah, Rich.
Ah, yes, my job! [ She perks up. Who looks this happy to talk about their job? Well... ] I work at Shades Darker as a server. Is that not so very quaint?
[ Yeah, she's never held down a job in her life, so it's still all so very Novel and Exciting to her, even months later. Exchanging labor for money? What a concept! ]
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[The second bit comes as news to him. The act is dropped as pleasant befuddlement assumes its seat.]
Are you now? Well I'll be, I'm a bartender there. How is it that we've missed each other? [And, because she is very young and quite cute, he feels a pressing need to ask:] Uh...no one's gone bothering you there, have they?
[There were classier places to wait on tables, Lady Clair, and he knows what men are like. Sweet Lord does he know.]
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She still watches with amusement anyway, if only because she's pretty easily amused, and if only in mostly uncomprehending amusement. ]
I suppose it is a rather large establishment...
[ She taps a finger against her chin thoughtfully. Maybe they just have different schedules? Who knows, really.
As for the next question— ]
Oh, no! [ She sniffs. ] Hmph, well—no one of any importance, in any case.
[ That is, no one she can't handle. Do you really think she puts up with even the smallest amount of nonsense? But in all honesty, the amount of customers who make trouble for her is a small fraction of the total. Most patrons have their hands full enough with the models, anyway, that they usually leave her in peace. ]