over a drink

[oneholysock]

The OVER A DRINK Meme

1. Post with your character.

2. You're at a bar. What kind of bar? Any kind you want. From fantasy taverns where various species mingle to futuristic space bars where half the drinks will probably kill you, or even an overly kitsch themed place where everything is overpriced, it's all good as long as there are drinks and company.

3. Respond to other characters. Perhaps you want to buy them a drink. Or perhaps you're inclined to be bought a drink. Maybe you saw someone you knew, or maybe you just want someone to talk to. Could be there's nowhere else to sit, and could be you want to drag them out to dance.

4. Get drunk. Or don't! Be the guest, or the bartender, or the newcomer, or even the janitor. Mingle, make friends, or lurk in a corner.

5. They say alcohol lowers one's inhibitions. Might just be time to find out how much.

Comments

[protectoroftheskies]

Carol pauses as she listens to him recount his week. Logically she knows that with him sitting across from her that the skirmish is over, but she doesn’t think she will ever shake that knee jerk reaction of expecting to jump into action. At the confirmation that all is well, she relaxes and takes a long swig of her ale. “Sounds like it. Glad it all worked out.”

It’s nice to see him. Even since moving back to Earth she rarely ventures out into anything resembling a social life. Her weekly dinners at the Khans’ house are about it. It’s a treat to see him even if it’s after a long week.

“I had to oversee peace talks,” she replies with a sigh. While Carol always celebrates a new treaty being made, peace talks are the most boring thing. She gets that her presence is a deterrent to any bad actors, but she should be out doing other things. Any other things. “So it sounds like we’ve both earned these drinks.”

[ceptme]

On the whole it wasn't as bad as it could have been. There's still some kinks to work out with how the new recruits are trained and briefed, but they got the job done and no-one went home in a body bag. Maybe it wouldn't have gone down like that if he hadn't just happened to be close enough to respond to the call for backup, but this time he was, and there's no point dwelling on what-ifs. They'll know better next time.

It's still weird, being responsible for all this shit, having people look up to him for some fucking reason. He's never felt so old and fucking tired as when he's got some fresh-faced kid in a new uniform saluting and calling him Captain.

He snorts a laugh at the mention of peace talks and the sigh that accompanies it. "Nice to be important, huh?" he says wryly. Not that he isn't skating around the edges of letting himself in for that kind of bullshit too, but the Guardians haven't made quite enough of a name for themselves yet on that kind of front for anyone to expect him to pretend to be a fucking diplomat. "Yeah, I'd take my week over yours any day." He holds his glass out to clink against hers. "Cheers."

[protectoroftheskies]

“I wish that someone else was more important. I rather punch someone any day.” But she smiles at this toast and she happily clinks her glass against his own. It feels nice to have someone she can complain to who really understands the horrors of the showmanship of diplomacy. “I rather have your week, too.” Even with the tiredness. Even if Carol doesn’t look her 60 years old she sure feels it sometimes.

She’s quiet for a few moments as she relishes those first few bites of the proto mozzarella sticks. Sure, she could’ve booked it home and gone to a local pub to get some, but even after all this time, there’s still something so cool about having greasy bar food in an intergalactic bar. The company is really nice, too.

“How’s the fighter? She need another test flight soon?”

[ceptme]

Honestly he's kind of impressed that she can summon the patience to deal with all the political bullshit. He knows fine well that the day the Guardians finally hit the critical mass to get invited to that kind of shit, he's going to cause at least three separate diplomatic incidents in the first hour. And the worst part is, he can't even claim with a straight face that there's anyone else he could dispatch to cover it. He's got a smart mouth and a penchant for using that power for evil, but in the social skills stakes that alone puts him ahead of half his crew.

"You at least got some downtime coming?" he asks. He's not fishing, although if she wanted to hit Knowhere and blow off some steam he wouldn't he disappointed about it. Mostly he just knows how easy it is to roll straight into the next crisis without thinking about it, and suddenly you haven't slept in days and your crew are peeling you off of the engine room floor and threatening you with physically implausible acts of violence if you don't make a token effort to look after your own wellbeing. Not that he's speaking from experience or anything.

He takes another unhurried drink as she starts in on her food, savoring the chance to just sit and breathe for a moment in companionable quiet. Those moments aren't so rare now as once they were, but they still feel it sometimes.

"Door's open any time you feel like taking a ride," he replies, flashing her a grin. And then — a little bit on the off chance the question's pulling double duty and isn't just an innuendo, but mostly because he'll happily take any excuse to talk about the project — he continues; "She's really comin' together. I wanna build in some longer-range backups for nav and comms, but that's the sorta thing we can retrofit without too much trouble. We're lookin' at goin' to production on the rest of the wing pretty soon."