Sept 28th, afternoon: Drinking...maybe fighting

[Winston Sharpe]

The bar wasn't overly flashy, it was new, modern, had wall to wall carpeting, but still seemed slightly dreary. There were hammocks in the corner, where a small niche lay and smoked, another group sat laughing around a glass table on a circular lounge and the bar itself was lined with others. Winston and Rick happened to be such others, having been there for a little under an hour, arriving at this place from another bar and had been passing the time by digging into the cheaply priced drinks on offer.

With a goofy grin and the slightest spillage of White Russian on his sleeves Winston finished his anecdote, "So shee said yes, I like parties and--and I went, good, cause there's one in my pants and everyones cumming, hahaha... then she kicked my nuts."

[Rick Ferguson]

Though that joke would normally have only merited a small smirk from Rick, it was apparently much funnier to him when he had downed more shots and pints than he could remember at this point.

"Hah, damn! Ya ever notice how pick-up lines always do the opposite of what ya'd want? *Burp*" Ahh, drunken epiphanies.

[Winston Sharpe]

"Yea, they're great--epiphanies, not pickup lines," Winston sculled down what was left of his glass, scrunching his face up as he swallowed, "Epiphananies suck, wait no, pickup lines suck."

[Rick Ferguson]

"Puns aren't that great either. They just get your murds wuddled." It would be a bit hard to tell if Rick said that deliberately, or if it was the booze talking.

[Winston Sharpe]

Winston chuckled, maybe for a bit longer than he should have in response, "That's good...it's like that one, with uh, do you know what the most important thing about jokes is timing, heh." Winston groaned and tried to spin his empty glass, "That's a shit joke."

The glass rolled onto its side and made its way to the edge of the bar, teetering precariously.

[Rick Ferguson]

Rick laughed right along with the attempted joke. "It's all good. Won't take much ta make me laugh right now, yanno?" His mind wandered a bit, back to the XUB they had met at earlier.

"So ya say ya fought those vampires, right? And made aaalllll that mess in the hallway. Sooo, what is it that ya do, anyways?"

[Winston Sharpe]

"Yup, took down at least three of them meself," Winston grinned broadly, overindulging himself in mock arrogance, trying his best to make his voice sound classy, though the fact that he waved his hands to further express his point seemed to ruin the visage.

"I make explosions man, I'm TNT, fucking dynamite. I absorb shit, not shit but like punch energy and it lets me make an explosion... if that makes sense."

[Rick Ferguson]

"Wow, that explains it then! That must be awesome to use, heheh." Why does that powerset sound familiar? Huh.

[Winston Sharpe]

"It was man, it really was." Winstons smile remained as he put his empty glass back up and asked the bartender for another, "And you in your thing fight with vampires good?...How, about, your, fight... besides from the...hostage."

[Rick Ferguson]

"I got to kick some ass, and help demolish part of their house. My part in it was actually kinda fun." The alcohol-soaked gears were slowly turning, and he finally thought to ask another simple question.

"So, I don't think we've even introduced. My name's Rick. And you're....?"

[Winston Sharpe]

"Sweet, that's the kind of stuff I want to sign up for, demolition, you would have had fun lucky schmuck," as the bartender returned, Winstons features expressed slight puzzlement as he too realised they'd lacked an introduction, "And you're right...um, Rick, nice to meet you? I'm Winston."

[Rick Ferguson]

Oh, hell. "Winston, eh? Cool, nice ta meet ya. Sooo the mens' room in Sydney got trashed a few days ago. Yanno anything about that?"

[Winston Sharpe]

"I might," Winston shifted himself on his seat slightly, "Some jerks stormed in and picked a fight from what I heard."

He tried to hide his smile, "I think they ended up learning a thing or two about fight picking, why'da'ya ask?"

[Rick Ferguson]

"Because I know both of those 'jerks'," he replied, without looking up from taking a sip of his beer. "And I know that they don't start crap."

[Winston Sharpe]

...crap Winstons face slowly turned stonewall blank as he turned back to his own drink before mumbling and slurring, "Maybe not when they're sober, people can do all sorts of things you wouldn't of expected of them when they're not sober."

[Rick Ferguson]

"I'm pretty sure Marcus was sober, but I also hope that that's not a threat," he said coldly.

[Winston Sharpe]

"He mightn't of been, doesn't mean he didn't join in without me provoking 'im...and it depends," Winston turned his head, his chin nuzzeled into his chest with his hands wrapped around his upperarms, "was that?"

[Rick Ferguson]

"I really dunno, but I'll go ahead an' hope for you sake that it wasn't, 'friend'." He slid off of the barstool was was seated on, and dug around in his wallet for some cash and a tip.

[Winston Sharpe]

"What's that meant to mean? My sake..." Winston spat the last too words out with disgust and glared at Rick before turning his back on his "friend" to sip at his drink, wincing a little when Rick pulled out his wallet, half expecting him to have flung a punch instead.

[Rick Ferguson]

"I meant that I know what I'm doin' in a fight. Really trained, yanno? Of course, if you really did kill three bloodsuckers in one fight, you're not too shabby." And I guess I can't be totally mad at you. "Seems kinn'a doubtful, though. Really, is that why they won't let ya on the teams? Ya like picking fights just for the fun of it or something?"

[Winston Sharpe]

"How else can I use my power but in a fight? It's not like I go out searching for fights but..." He took another sip from his glass, dripping a little onto the barmat before wiping his mouth on his sleeve and continuing, "It's all it's good for." All I'm good for... hmm, drunken epiphany.

"And your jerk friends were supposedly really trained too," Winston mumbled, half-to himself as he straightened his back.

[Rick Ferguson]

"He woulda won if the fight hadn't been stopped. I'm pretty damn sure of that. 'Sides, just because ya can blow shit up doesn't mean ya should look for reasons to do it all the time.

[Winston Sharpe]

"S'not like I do and s'not like I want it...No--wait, I do want it sometimes," Winston swivelled on his chair to face Rick, before slowly asking, "You're on a team, no? You've been in plenty of fights."

Winston took another drink, though he kept his eyes on his "friend", "Don't you enjoy it when you can let it all out on something, someone, just vent yourself, put all the blame for shit on them and smash them for it?"

[Rick Ferguson]

"Sure I do! Those vampire sons o' bitches killed my friend Charlie; y'think I didn't enjoy plowing over a few of 'em? Of course I did! But yanno what makes me different from you? I focus! I train, I prepare, and I fight for a cause! An' honestly, 'friend', that's exactly what you need."

[Winston Sharpe]

"Heh, of course you enjoy'd it, we all enjoy it, it's..." Winston faltered, racking his alchohol soaked brain for words, coming up dry and deciding to move on, "I train...ok, I don't prepare, but there's nothing to prepare for if you're not'n a team, and on a team you're rewarded for letting it all out on whoever they throw you at, it's like, the ultimate job."

[Rick Ferguson]

"Okay. Fine. If ya held your own yesterday, ya aren't bad at what ya do. If ya wanna be on the teams that bad, find a way to join, and maybe the rest of us will start to show ya a little respect."

[Winston Sharpe]

"I can...I can make the teams fine, I've been trying for a few whiles but," Winston finished off his glass and slid it back towards the bartender, fumbling with his other hand for his own wallet, "Yea, I can make it, I will eventually...what was that about respect?"

[Rick Ferguson]

"I said we might start to show ya some respect! Can't speak for everyone else, though. And not picking fights with people I know will probably getcha somewhere, too," he said with a smirk.

[Winston Sharpe]

"Heh, ok, good to know but how am I meant to tell them apart from everyone else?" Winston said as he placed a few notes on the bar.

[Rick Ferguson]

"Just assume that there's a small chance I know anyone at school that ya come across." Maybe that'll keep him out of trouble. Maybe. He paid for all of his drinks and proceeded to head for the door.

[Winston Sharpe]

"Oh, Mr. Popular?" With his drinks paid for too, Winston followed Rick out, stumbling into a few of the patrons as he went.

[Rick Ferguson]

"No, 'Mr. Trying-to-keep-you-outta-trouble' is more like it. Ugh....I really hope campus isn't too far away."

[Winston Sharpe]

"Hehehe, I can look after my-self just fine Mr-Mr...um, pfft," Winston tried to hide his then limited mental state with a shrug as he passed Rick by and attempted to kick the door to the bar open, though upon closer inspection he'd find it would have the word PULL written across it.

Winston swivelled on the spot, slightly embarrassed, though he tried to pass it off by answering Ricks question, "Um, and it's not too far away for memory..." I don't remember the way.

[Rick Ferguson]

Rick smirked, pulling the bar door open and getting back out on the streets. "Prob'ly not. I'm sure we'll find it if we wander around enough." Maybe.

[Winston Sharpe]

"Heck if not I still, I still gots plenty of money, we can go to another bar," Winston laughed despite the lack of joke in his sentence as he followed Rick out, "this place had a shitty vibe anyways."

{{Exit}}