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☘ 006; [video; backdated to 3/17]
[As it turns out, there is a bar in Violet City. Which, tonight, is inhabited by a famed heroic spirit of myth--]
Faither--!
[--who currently has his only son in a headlock.]
Something wrong, kid? C'mon, don't tell me you can't get out of this!
[The resulting scuffle seems to have knocked his Pokegear out of his bag--and as Lancer's E-rank luck dictates, of course it will turn on and record this to embarrass the hell out of him. Meanwhile, the rather hesitant NPC bartender carefully hinted that hey, maybe Lancer should ease up on the getting drunk. Judging by the mostly-empty bottle of alcohol nearby, he was probably right.]
[With his free hand--the one which lacked a flailing teenager--Lancer pointed at the poor bastard with a look of absolute seriousness on his face. Which probably made the situation seem even more ludicrous.]
Hey. HEY. Nobody tells the Hound of Ulster when he's drunk. Back home that'd have gotten you a lance to the chest. And you don't want a cursed lance to the chest.
[A pause--he immediately seemed to forget about the ~horrible offense~ the bartender had committed by suggesting Lancer was drunk.]
...Man, I miss that lance. [He addressed the still-flailing Connla, headlock more of an awkward one-armed hug now.] Your aunt Scathach is gonna kick my ass if she ever finds out I lost it.
[The video timed out shortly after, Lancer's miserable fortune seemingly in full swing even if nothing else was. Drop a few more hints about your identity, why don't you?]
[ooc: IC responses will be delayed by a few hours. Drunk Lancer is quite drunk.]
Faither--!
[--who currently has his only son in a headlock.]
Something wrong, kid? C'mon, don't tell me you can't get out of this!
[The resulting scuffle seems to have knocked his Pokegear out of his bag--and as Lancer's E-rank luck dictates, of course it will turn on and record this to embarrass the hell out of him. Meanwhile, the rather hesitant NPC bartender carefully hinted that hey, maybe Lancer should ease up on the getting drunk. Judging by the mostly-empty bottle of alcohol nearby, he was probably right.]
[With his free hand--the one which lacked a flailing teenager--Lancer pointed at the poor bastard with a look of absolute seriousness on his face. Which probably made the situation seem even more ludicrous.]
Hey. HEY. Nobody tells the Hound of Ulster when he's drunk. Back home that'd have gotten you a lance to the chest. And you don't want a cursed lance to the chest.
[A pause--he immediately seemed to forget about the ~horrible offense~ the bartender had committed by suggesting Lancer was drunk.]
...Man, I miss that lance. [He addressed the still-flailing Connla, headlock more of an awkward one-armed hug now.] Your aunt Scathach is gonna kick my ass if she ever finds out I lost it.
[The video timed out shortly after, Lancer's miserable fortune seemingly in full swing even if nothing else was. Drop a few more hints about your identity, why don't you?]
[ooc: IC responses will be delayed by a few hours. Drunk Lancer is quite drunk.]
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[And made everyone that drank it feel like the hangover might have been a good alternative.]
[Or maybe that was just Lancer.]
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[:D? :D?]
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[oh god WHAT DID HE JUST DRINK]
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[See I can be a good son, just like you wanted! :D :D :D]
It's made o' oatmeal, creim, a wee bit o' whisky and... herbs.
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[That was somehow one of the more ominous ellipses Lancer had encountered in recent memory.]
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[Pause? There was no pause.]
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[Touche.]
...fine, whatever.
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[If you drank as much as a Scot, you generally had effective hangover cures.]
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Or I'll be dead. Guess we'll see.
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[This was approximately the same argument Scathach gave him when he didn't want to eat things that he didn't like. 'It's good for you, so just eat it and stop whining'.]
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[Pouting? Naaah.]
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[Screw it. Pillow goes over head and ignoring the world starts now.]
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[Just mucking around with the faucets and the refrigerator and the microwave...]
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