solas_ion | ☘ 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

See, you did it again! That pause right there, just what'd I drink?!

There are herbs in it. Dinnae worry, they're guid fer ye.

...right, that's why they taste like poison.

...Well, they won' kill ye.

As far as you know.

Cannae dae anythin' worse tae ye than ye already did tae yerself.

...

[Touche.]

...fine, whatever.

Dinnae worry, I hae drank it many times afore. In hauf an' hour ye'll be feelin' righ' as rain.

[If you drank as much as a Scot, you generally had effective hangover cures.]

[Trufax, bro.]

Or I'll be dead. Guess we'll see.

I didnae ken th' great Cu Chulainn would be cryin' like a bairn over a wee hangover cure.

I'm not crying.

Then why dae I hear all this wailin' about a wee bit o' drink? It's guid fer ye, so dinnae complain aboot it.

[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'.]

Hmph.

[Pouting? Naaah.]

[Don't mind Connla, he's just off to muck around in the kitchen a bit more. Look at all this weird stuff that does weird things!]

...don't set anything on fire, kid.

[Screw it. Pillow goes over head and ignoring the world starts now.]

Aye, aye...

[Just mucking around with the faucets and the refrigerator and the microwave...]

[Yep. Totally ignoring. Maybe he'd even be able to get some sleep at some point.]

[What was that weird pinging sound?]

...

[He was going to regret this, wasn't he?]

[Sighing, Lancer got up and went to investigate.]

[Connla had discovered that sticking something in the microwave and hitting a few buttons would make things hot. He was hungry and there were leftovers in the fridge, so he was going to eat something.]

[He did not know, however, that tin foil and microwaves do not mix.]

[He wasn't quite sure what to make of all those sparks, either.]

[This was Lancer.]

[This was Lancer with the end of the microwave's plug in his hand.]

Here's a tip. Sparks like that aren't usually a good thing.

Aye?

[Aww, the light show was over.]

[Facepalm.]

Keep that up and it'll probably explode or something.

It would'?

[Don't give him ideas, Lancer.]

...Connla.

[action]

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