He Gods to Swear

[touchofcashmere]

Who: Cede Sonnet (Baptin) and ...all three of you... [OTA]
What: gin, rum, tequila, pina colada (one for each hand), vodka, whiskey....
When: June 30 year of our lord ...somethin' with a lotta 2s
Where: I dunno just...everyhere
Warnings: this man




I. At Hurikane

[Give him two pina coladas... or three. Or four. Because the ghosts won't and he's trying to pull the drink from the invisible hands]

I'm fine. I can handle it. I can handle anything! Don't tell me I can't liquor my handle!


II. At John's

[who is holding a bottle of tequila, sitting on the piano and intermittently throwing books at the screen? It's him. It's fine. He's fine. Everything's fine. Why do you ask?]


III. Chatterbox

[it is karaoke time and he is just in time for having a good time, reading the lyrics badly]

Tell me why ain't nothin' but a heartache
tell me why ain't nothing but a missed skate
tell me why I never wanna hear you say
I want it that day!

Come on! Sing with me!


IV. Scoops
I'll have one of everything please. [and then seeing someone come up, clings to the window] It's all mine. Go away. Shoo.


V. Elsewhere
[Stede is clinging to the railing, making his way along or otherwise rambling back and forth across the deck]

Wow! Choppy seas? Am I right? Of course I'm right. Must be a storm. [he chugs a bottle of rum]

If we die... I hope the captain is fucked. Fucked. Absolutely a hundered percent ten eggs deep.

Comments

[touchofcashmere]

...why the fuck is it so dark in here?

[...and cramped and...is that a hangar]

Shit

[ninetoes]

Stede, get the fuck out of my closet.

[touchofcashmere]

Fine. But only because it's small and useless. [and it takes him a moment to grope for the door, and stagger to the other one, groping for the knob before opening it and checking that it is the corridor and not another closet that's somehow bigger on the inside]

Just like you. [and he steps out, closing the door behind him, only to get his coat and some buttons caught in the closed door. With a grunt he pulls it free after several tugs, leaving buttons to fly everywhere.

It's fine. This is fine. Everything is fine. He'd only made an ass of himself.

Again.

And now... now he needs a drink]

[ninetoes]

[Izzy watches Hurricane Stede untangle and wreck himself in one clunky move and waits until the door closes before exhaling and scrubbing his face with his hands.

Make that two who need a drink now.]