Lancer || Cu Chulainn

Yo.

[Here we have one Lancer, still very obviously sporting red and gold streaks in his hair and a nasty set of fangs.]

Got a question for ya. The number of times I've been chucked out Celadon Gym's window kind of suggests to me I might've lost my touch when it comes to women.

So how does that kind of thing work where you're all from? I mean, assuming there was a specific one in mind you were thinkin' of. And also assuming they're the kinda girl who probably shouldn't even be lookin' at you twice. What's the phrase...'out of your league'?

Basically, how d'you talk to a girl like that without gettin' tossed out a damn window?

[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.]

[Well hello there, residents of Johto. On your Pokegear and on Route 30 today, you'll find a certain blue-haired Servant with a broken fishing rod and a very displeased look on his face.]

I can take a lot of things in stride, you know. Timelines all over the place? Sure. Some kind of surreal alternate universe? Fine with me, I've been to stranger places than this. Weird monsters? I've seen worse.

But how the hell does a fishing rod just spontaneously snap in half?

[Life just isn't fair when you have the lowest Luck stat of pretty much anyone in your canon. Isn't it sad--wait, wrong game What he's not saying is how he didn't even catch anything; every time he tried, a Magikarp snapped his line. Annoyed? A tiny bit. He's starting to catch on that the universe might just hate him.]

...I'd ask 'who'd I piss off to deserve this', but I have a feeling it'd be a long list.

[Including quite a few women, a goddess, several armies...the list went on and on, and that wasn't even counting everyone he crossed as a Servant.]

Ah, well. All things considered, guess I can't complain. But if the next fishing rod is this brittle, someone's going to catch hell for it.

Guess it's back to Cherrygrove, at any rate; Olldóiteán, Aigéan, let's go.

[A Houndour and Poliwag could be seen for a moment in the background, Lancer muttering to himself in an annoyed tone of voice before cutting off the video.]