Beau (rivalen) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-03-04 21:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, cian wilde, rivalen beau |
Who: Riv & Cian
What: Being d-bags tbh
Where: Some bar
When: Backdated - Pisces 3rd (2/21)
Rating: PG-13? They are kind of horrifying misogynistic d-bags, just…. be warned or whatever
Status: Complete
Seeking Cian’s company was something Rivalen did on his own private time, because in his opinion Cian was good company. He was helluva useful fellow too, Riv was sure, but he came here for the company and the chance to be himself (or more like the other side of himself that was kept out of public eye). “Another!” he flagged down the waitress, not caring that Cian was clearly not on the same page about getting drunk. To each their own, and Rivalen was not an emotional drunk; there would be no waxing poetry and tears about Faram-knew-what. “Gonna be toasted in short order at this rate,” Cian commented, not that he was bothered either way. He, too, found Rivalen Beau to be good company, in the warped sort of definition he had for the term. His own mug of weak beer was three quarters full, but he hardly needed an impairment to have a good time. “Any woman stupid enough to go home with you’s going to be pretty fucking disappointed,” he added, entertained at the notion despite himself. “Or are you leaving all that to me tonight? I can handle two, if that’s the way of it.” Rivalen tossed his head back and laughed, "I deserved a lot of drink for being one of the idiots out there." Which pretty much sealed how he really felt about the whole affair. "Still what is a samurai to do but to obey their retainer, right?" The women comment didn't sting his pride, women were to be used and tossed; any men he brought back with him was just the same. Here it was, ladies and gentlemen, the true face of this samurai. No chivalry or kindness here, "How about three?" The bartender left a new drink and Riv took a generous sip, "Or is two your limit?" “Drowning your sorrows, then? Not an uncommon tactic,” Cian said, amused despite himself. “Could always come work for me. I won’t send you out into the snow to fight fuck knows what.” The sort of work he would set would probably be worse, however; he didn’t bother to mention it. Riv was moderately reliable, on his scale, but getting himself involved professionally with Fighters’ Guild associates was probably a complication he didn’t necessarily need. “And as for my limit, buddy, I’ll let you know when I find it. Haven’t yet.” A slightly wolfish grin was offered, along with a suggestion: “You focus on your drinks, I’ll take care of the ladies. Seems fair all around.” Rivalen’s ambitions lay in other paths: politics, wealth, nobility. That was what he wanted to obtain, even if these ambitions were not voiced out loud. Snorting into his drink, “I’m quite happy not being your goon. You’d probably make me dress like a Chocobo or something.” He laughed, happy to stay out of Cian’s affairs — what the man did in his free time or whatever, Rivalen didn’t know nor did he care to know. “You sly dog,” an amiable clap of the shoulder was offered, “I demand proof of how many you can handle.” He knocked back his drink, “Sure, Cian, you take the ladies — drinks are more reliable. Safer too.” Cian had to laugh. “You got a spy in my human resources department?” The nonexistent one. “How’d you know about next year’s uniforms? I figure the bonus gained from distraction and gaping’ll pay off all the yellow feathers we had to round up. But hey, your loss.” At the talk of proof and safety, though, the gambler shook his head. “Going to have to agree to disagree on that one.” Alcohol, like most mood-altering substances, was something that he approached with wariness. A woman might try to stab you in your bed, sure. And if you were sober and quick enough, you could disarm her. Start drinking and then what? No, he’d take the potential assassin with the pretty face anytime. “Sounds like we’ve got a deal. You stay and get drunk like a loser, I go and get laid.” He looked around the bar, just crowded enough that he had a fair number of options. “One of those two, maybe.” His taste always had run to the petite and the blonde, but the curvy woman with her short shock of red hair wasn’t bad either. “Or both. The night is young and all that. And another drink for you.” He grinned, though the expression lacked warmth. “Seems fair.” Lack of warmth didn’t bother, if it had been noticed, but probably not because Riv was set on having a good time and friendly harassing Cian. He gave a shrug with half-hearted effort. “I will not object to you buying me drinks and all that.” He had not been joking when he expressed a preference for drinks over women, at least drinks were consistent. “Gee, I don’t know, bro — drinks seem so much more solid than those at the bar. I mean that blond one looks like she’s been around the mill. Who would want sloppy leftovers?” “You got a problem with experienced women, buddy?” Cian asked, tone deceptively mild. “I’ll make a note to leave the fumbling virgins to your care then, provided you can walk a straight line, let alone find their buttons and laces. Another for my friend over here.” his to the passing waitress, who nodded before sashaying off towards the bar. “One drink, coming right up.” “Only the too experienced type. There are only so many miles a horse can run.” His smile turned predatory, “But virgins? They’re easy to get on their backs, a little boring but they can learn.” Another shrug, he really, truly did not care about a woman’s pleasure beyond getting some of his own. “You’re a good friend, sometimes, Wilde. Can’t decide whether I like you or want to punch you.” “So you’re interested in teaching, too,” Cian said with a shake of his head. “All these things I’m learning about you today. I think we’re bonding.” The sarcasm was unmistakable, but then neither of them were exactly the bonding type, either. The waitress came by then with the samurai’s newest drink; Cian clinked his beer glass against it and said, “Likewise, buddy. Likewise.” For today, however, it seemed the face punching would be put on hold in favor of other -- more satisfying -- pursuits. |