Who: Cyrus and Esther What: Drunken awkwardness, tbh Where: Some bar! When: Backdated: the night before this Rating: A for Awkward Status: Complete
After a hearty meal and a mug of very adequate mead, Cyrus was feeling better, overall, about the big city and his presence here. Granted, he hadn’t meant to find a tavern at all, but he’d wound up turned around once again, finally locating the shop he had meant to visit only after its doors were closed for the day. The invitingly lit tavern across the street had seemed a natural enough place to go after that -- he was hungry, not to mention still a little uncertain what he was meant to be doing until such time as he was called by the Rangers into the Outlands again.
Look, the Captain had told him. Listen. And after all, what better place than a tavern to do both?
Fortunately, the clientele and staff seemed friendly enough, and Cyrus hadn’t managed to give away all of his gil today, having attempted to save it for the shop he hadn’t actually managed to visit. He’d been drawn into conversation by a group of merchants. After introducing himself and buying a round, he’d settled back and listened, curbing the urge to interrupt. Strange things indeed -- giant monsters and mad mages and walking buildings. He had seen many things traveling the Outlands, but even to him, these stories seemed odd indeed.
Mead finished with, and talk turning to the price of bread (less interesting to the Captain, he had to assume), he excused himself and set out to find the bathroom. It had been a rather large mug.
To assume Lady Glass was a wallflower was very wrong, if anything, she looked more like one — but after a pint or two, she was incredibly - well. Not unladylike because it was ingrained in her, however the way she stumbled out of the bathroom (limbs loose and flailing) was not particularly graceful.
Dressed in plain clothes, hair pulled back simply she blended into the crowd far easier than had she been properly dressed according to her station. “Whoops.” She laughed as she crashed into the unfortunate man who was heading to the bathroom.
He’d caught the figure hurtling out of the narrow hall on instinct, arms coming up before the other person could fall, the weight against him inconsequential. “Ba care --” And then, of course, it was like his tongue suddenly swelled to three times its size, between the cheerfully bright laugh and the prettily flushed face and a whole lot of dark hair and (don’t talk, and you’ll be fine, Caspar’s voice ingrained in his head the only reason he didn’t blurt out something completely unnecessary) finally he managed, after a pause to finish, “--ful.”
Village girls with their pretty smiles were trouble enough; city women, polished and to his eyes impossibly elegant even in their simplest garb were something else again.
And he was still holding her up, he realized.
He nearly picked her up to prop her against a wall, stopped himself just in time to simply attempt to steady her on her feet. “I -- my fault,” he said lamely, even if it hadn’t been.
Esther had collided with many people in her drunken shenanigans, she couldn’t help but laugh the incident off (in this occasion, there had been no beer splashed across unwelcome surfaces). His hands on her waist didn’t really register until he settled her on her feet and she gave him a curious look, “No, it wasn’t.” Esther tilted her head up to meet his eyes, not shy.
“I drank too much.” Enough to allow her own tongue to loosen and just blab.
"Oh," he said, as though this were some sort of revelation, even if, upon observation of her state, he might have worked that out on his own by and by. "Well, that's... good," he managed, then quickly backtracked, "I mean, if that was what you wanted to do -- if you've had too much in error or -- not to imply you would."
Really, was it any wonder Cas cautioned him against talking?
"I'll just get out of your way," he said defeatedly, stepping to the side of the narrow hall to give her room to pass. "Have a good evening, miss."
Her mind didn’t quite follow what his point was, but Esther took his tone to be amicable enough not to take offence and instead shifted her position so she was blocking his way; feet on the left and her shoulder on the right wall - thank Faram it was a narrow corridor. Otherwise she’d be on the floor.
“I’m not sure I follow what you’re talking about.” the admission held no judgement, Esther’s eyes bright and curious (and drunk) and she was smiling again at him. “Slower, again.”
One of the (very, very many) confounding things about women for Cy was the fact that he could never quite tell when they meant to tease and when they were serious. Did she really want a repeat of his babbling? Though it was probably better for him that she hadn’t understood. An opportunity to do better -- if only he had any notion of what to say to her at all. Really her drinking too much (or not), purposeful or accidental, was none of his business!
“I meant to say,” he said, speaking slowly as he gathered his scattered thoughts, “that you are… enjoying your evening. Which is good.” There, that was better, wasn’t it? And… was she leaning against the wall for balance? Would she topple if not for its support?
“Do you require assistance?” he asked. “To your seat, that is.” If she were dizzy, he couldn’t simply leave her here.
“I am enjoying my evening, very much.” Esther replied agreeably, it seemed like she was going to cooperate and not tease him. Whoever this man was, he was remarkably awkward, enough for Esther to make a note of it in her intoxicated state. “Oh, yes. Carry me.” Which really meant that she was fine but she was a horrible person and not above taking advantage of a kind offer from a stranger.
Especially if it meant she could drape herself across another in a companionable fashion.
Carry her? But it didn’t occur to him that she could be playing -- she was leaning up against a wall for balance! -- and he had offered, and what else could he do now, really, but acquiesce?
“If that is what you need,” he said. “Please excuse my -- excuse me.” Fortunately, she did not weigh so very much, in the grand scheme of things, even if trying to hold her in the most respectful manner possible (what exactly that looked like he was uncertain, but he was trying) was a bit awkward.
As was turning around in the narrow hallway without jostling her against one of the walls, which he managed eventually to avoid altogether by backing out of the hallway with her in hand before he turned and realized… “I… do not know where you were sitting.”
This poor, poor man. Esther was giggling and took the time to wrap herself comfortably against him when he lifted her up with ease. They didn’t collide against any walls which gave him major points.
She flashed Cy a smile, “...Neither do I, oops?” She was lying of course, but she was not in the teasing stage and this was making her laugh. It had been a while since she’d felt so entertained by simple actions like this. It made her feel young, like she was just a silly teenager.
Well, at least she was having a good time (it was beginning to dawn on him that perhaps at least some of the laughter was at his expense, but in his defense he had tried to talk as little as possible; he had no idea how Cas would have insisted he handle such a situation but having no one to instruct him, he was improvising to the best of his ability). Still, he couldn’t just stand here with her curled up against his chest, either.
The answer, like a revelation, came in the form of an empty table. At the very least, she could be settled in a chair there as opposed to held up by some babbling stranger (even if she did find him entertaining). He strode across the room, setting her down as lightly as he could. “I hope here will be… suitable. Until you go.” Should he talk to the bartender, he wondered, to ensure she had proper accompaniment or transport home?
What a funny man, Esther was not sure if the drink made him more amusing or if he truly was this… awkward. Not that it was a bad thing, judging others’ quirks was not in her nature (especially given that her own ways were peculiar). “It is suitable, thank you.”
Setting gil on the table, she shoved it in Cy’s direction, “Now you can get us drinks and it’ll be like I never lost my table or my company before.”
And at last, Cyrus managed to say the one correct thing he’d gotten out of his mouth all evening: “I can buy the drinks.” And before she could insist on paying, he headed to the bar to do just that, Though he would, in the end, have to grill the bartender on exactly what to bring back for her. Still, he considered a drink with a pretty woman to be an incredible success, given the circumstances, and even if he made a fool of himself for the next hour, he was still rather glad to have gotten lost tonight.