The ringleader, so polite and respectful during the day, somehow had transformed into a terribly randy drunk. It took little for John to end up in Allaster's lap in the first place, and even less urging from Allaster's hand to see John put his own hand over it and rub it up and down his thigh, his nails digging into the back of his hand playfully. He was thrown off balance when Allaster gave his legs a shove, taking a minute to get his coordination together well enough that he had both feet on the floor in some form of order. A soft, indignant "hmph" fell from his lips as he too stood up, frowning ominously at his gathered crowd. There was a fez on the head of a bust of some Greek person John couldn't think of the name of in his state, and he went over and grabbed it. Lifting it high, he placed it on his head, crowning himself. The tassel drooped into his face until he blew it away.
"Right, lads! The game!" he barked, sticking his hands onto his hips. "This is a very --" Hiccup. "Very serious matter, one that is not to be taken ssssthh--unseriously."
After wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, he strode over to where Charlie sat and leaned over, caging Charlie into the chair with both of his arms, hands planted firmly on the arms of the chair. His breath as it puffed out at Charlie smelled strongly of sugar and liquor, voice coarse and full of exaggeration.
"I'm your king now, see, and you have to do everything I say. You... hic!... squire, have to prove yourself to me how valuable you are. And you're gonna do that by doing these little tasks for us... quests, if you will." One eye squinted nearly shut, giving Charlie a cock-eyed look. Then John stood up, regally shooting out his hand and pointing at Henry.
"Lord Wilder! Your task is first. Give our squire his quest."