Who: Ari & James What: Some harmless alcohol consumption Where:The Tipsy Sheep When: Backdated: very late August Rating: PG-ish Status: Complete
Ari firmly believed it wasn’t a problem. Was she getting rather drunk -- all alone -- for the third time in a few weeks? All right, yes. But she was being sensible about it, wasn’t she? She’d get herself up the stairs after somehow, so it wasn’t as though home was far. And she had gotten through her run of auditions stone cold sober, so clearly, a bit (or a lot) of wine was just a perfectly acceptable indulgence.
Just a bit of a private wake of sorts, really. Her father would understand, she was certain (her mother, on the other hand, would be horrified, but this was why Ari wasn’t in Anjou anymore).
It wasn’t a particularly busy night at the Sheep, so she had the taproom almost entirely to herself. In her corner, she set herself to polishing off her first bottle of Syrah when the door opened to admit another customer in search of alcohol -- or perhaps a mediocre meal.
James never saw a particular problem with getting drunk all alone. Getting drunk was certainly more fun with company usually, but since he wasn’t generally a very social person, it happened that now and again he drank alone. In fact, it was probably what was going to happen tonight since he was only stopping in to the city briefly and unannounced.
The Ranger entered The Tipsy Sheep and in scanning for a place to sit, discovered that maybe he didn’t have to drink alone tonight. Ari was sitting in a corner looking rather unhappy, something that was probably to expected. James wasn’t the kind of person to attempt consolations, but he could certainly offer a companion for over-drinking.
Strolling over to her table, he gestured to the empty chair, “Is this seat taken?” he asked with a crooked grin.
She hadn’t been certain he’d approach her -- their few interactions prior to this moment had generally been in cheerier surroundings, and not everyone liked to mope in company -- but she was not opposed to the idea of him coming over, and her smile came easily enough in response to the grin.
“By all means,” she said. “My imaginary drinking companion has just stepped out, leaving me sadly all alone. You’ll be doing me a favor, really.” The veneer of brightness was not so difficult to slip on -- if she walked around looking sour again, people would begin to talk, and Aries had been bad enough for that. In comparison (or so she kept telling herself) this calamity was far more manageable. “What brings you to the Theatre District tonight? I must say you aren’t dressed for the opera.”
Not that there weren’t all manner of other amusements available here as well, of course, even if the Sheep was foremost in nothing except perhaps convenience.
James was not opposed to moping, either. So long as she didn’t expect actual comfort or nurturing from him. He was the wrong guy for advice or caring. But drinking away some problems? No problem.
“I never bought much in to the idea that drinking alone was all that terrible. However, for someone from the theater, I suppose that appearances must be kept up, hm?” James joked. At her question and follow up comment about the opera, he raised his eyebrow at her. “You think I’m the kind of person to attend an opera?” he replied seriously, though his eyes may have sparkled somewhat in amusement. “No, I have no particular business here tonight. This tavern just happens to be closest to where I came in to the city tonight,” he explained. Not that he did not partake of the other amusements offered in the area. He just wasn’t here for that specifically tonight.
The barmaid happened by at that point, and James gave his order. When it arrived, he took a sip from the glass and then set it down.
“A life without opera in it is a sad life,” Ari pronounced. “You should come and see one of mine sometime, at least. I might even forgive the shirt, though the usher may reserve the right to deny entrance to the theatre.”
When his glass arrived, she clinked hers against it before taking a sip, then said, “I would tell you your company is welcome for more than the sake of appearances, but I have some doubts about whether or not you’d believe me. Let’s just say that this proprietress has seen me in much worse states -- I am neither dancing drunkenly on a table nor missing any article of clothing. Really, it’s a good day.”
She took another sip of her wine before asking, “Anything interesting in the Outlands? Hopefully no oversized cactuars with unfashionable facial hair.” Although, all things considered, she thought there was probably only one such in all of Ivalice.
“Hey, what’s wrong with this shirt?” he challenged with a grin. “You’ve clearly never seen me dress for an official event.” His later education hadn’t been entirely devoid of customary societal manners. He did, in fact, own a single outfit (a rather nice one, actually) for special occasions. Because he wore it so rarely, it didn’t matter that is somewhat old; it looked new. “Tell you what - tell me when your next one is, and I will show you that I own more than this dusty set of clothing.” James had no interest in the opera. But to please a pretty lady? He could give up an evening for what he expected would be only a moderately entertaining evening - through no fault of the entertainers, of course. But when one comes from a land where men killing each other is the highest form of entertainment... Opera might seem a bit bland.
“Missing an article of clothing?” James asked. “Tell me - how could that possibly be a bad day?” He grinned rakishly at Ari, unable to resist a little teasing.
“Ah, no. Nothing that interesting. There has been more monster activity of late, since they’ve pulled us closer to the city.” James paused then and looked at his glass, swirling the liquid inside. He was still unhappy about the decision, and this was the reason why. He took another sip before setting his glass down again.
“As soon as I know when my next one is, you’ll know, I assure you,” she told him. “We shall see if any of Emillion’s casting directors fancy me this season.” At least one would, surely; she’d never been so unlucky as to be left without work when she wanted it, and her recent roles had netted her a fair amount of acclaim. “And as for missing clothing, I call that an unfortunate day for me -- for other denizens of the bar at the time, I daresay that might not be such a misfortune at all.” She grinned back at him, then, polishing off her glass and holding it out for him to refill it, added, “I am terribly sorry -- I am not nearly that drunk yet.”
Though she wasn’t objecting to getting a bit drunker. The conversation was a nice distraction from her otherwise unpleasant thoughts (between Miles and complicated conversations with Drake and Aspel’s injuries and the giant vanishing cactuar, she had quite the collection).
“Well, I suppose I must point out that the monster activity in the city is even more worrying, as the aforementioned giant cactuar appeared in the center of town and not somewhere south near the Ordalian border. Though you look as annoyed to be tethered here as I would be to be forced into camping.”
“They would be foolish not to,” James said with a grin. While he could speak little of her actual talent, having not seen her performances, he found Ari more than just physically attractive. If she didn’t have more than just looks to offer, he would not have actively sought out her company (not since they weren’t fucking). James assumed her pleasant company had some sort of vague correlation with her talent.
“I don’t know...” the Ranger insisted, still grinning. “The question is, did you have fun? Because if you did, I would say it isn’t necessarily unfortunate, even for you, as the undresser.” And to her assertion that she wasn’t drunk enough, James’s grin grew and he acquiesced to her unspoken request and filled her glass. “I think we can remedy that,” he said slyly. James had no ill-intentions. This was how they talked to each other - banter and flirting. He may have had little social wherewithal, but he did have a moral code of his own.
Ari’s comments drained the amusement from the monk’s face, and he grew very serious. The number of monsters attacking the city was alarming. While it happened occasionally, the population of the city should have naturally deterred them from outright attacking the populace in most cases. Stragglers and caravans outside the walls were to be expected. It seemed unnatural. And it concerned him, even more than his frustration with being kept out of what he considered was his natural territory and guardianship.
The idea of Ari camping, though, drew the merriment from him again, and he grinned slightly, sipping at his drink. “Now, I think that would be quite the test. How well could you act perfectly natural and comfortable on a camping trip?”
“The fun was relative,” Ari said with a laugh and a shrug. “I did -- more or less -- at the time -- but I paid for it in spades the next day. But if you aim to make me drunk enough to consider it this evening, by all means, pour. I’m here to drink, after all.” A bit unusual for her, in a sense -- she rarely went out with the sole purpose of drinking to excess -- but she doubted he’d notice the anomaly, or care, particularly. They weren’t the sort of friends -- if they could be called friends at all -- to pry into each other’s business.
“I did go camping about a year and a half ago,” she said thoughtfully. “It was miserable. It rained the whole time. We were looking for a magical moose someone claimed to have seen -- that’s moose, with two ‘o’s, and stumbled upon a magical mousse -- as in flan -- which tried to eat us or potentially simply drench us in mud while slinging spells about. I was natural enough during the fight, I assume, but I seem to recall spending the rest of the trip complaining… or contemplating whose bedroll would be warmest and dryest.” She made a face. “If I never go camping again, it will be too soon.”
“Mmm, consequences. You’d think that by now there would be a spell to nullify that,” he said, still looking entertained. Certainly they had something - nullifying poison or some such thing. But few would use precious mana for something as trivial as that. And, regrettable as it was, a hangover was somehow part of the whole ritual of drinking to excess. It was a test of how well you could handle the pain that came with the fun - were you tough enough to tough it out, or were you too quick to cave, and therefore undeserving of the prior evening’s epic festivities? Throwing a spell at it seemed cheap.
James couldn’t contain his laughter over the image of a flan trying laying seige to a group of the city’s finest. It was deep and hearty, though not intended to be cruel or callous. “Well, if I had been on that trip, I can assure you, mine would have been the warmest,” he mentioned when he finally composed himself.
“Esuna and Cure in conjunction,” she said promptly. “Or Soul Etude. The trouble is singing while wanting to void the contents of one’s stomach at the same time. Or casting, I suppose, if someone’s got that skill set. I certainly don’t.” Her own Cure was so pathetic as to be practically negligible. “Antidotes get expensive, sadly, or I’d keep them stocked… anyway.”
She shrugged and moved on without another thought: “You would have had competition, by the way, from a corsair nearly seven feet tall with substantial muscles and such a propensity to generate heat that I never once saw him wear a shirt, not even in the snow.” That his interests had lain firmly elsewhere didn’t require mentioning; as she recalled now, she’d selected Drake’s bedroll in the end. “In any case, if ever I go camping -- sans corsair -- I will keep in mind that upon inviting you I will stand to gain a warm bedroll.”
James paused, a bewildered look on his face as Ari began rapidly to fire off the names of magical cures. He blinked, and then shrugged, the blank expression quickly fading. The former gladiator did not like to reveal any weakness, though anyone who knew him would know that magical prowess was his; James had absolutely no skill in the magic arts. It was something he did not like about himself, if he was honest. He prided himself on being capable of handling himself, and being without that skill set seemed like a gaping hole. However, James did not often think about it - most likely, so that he did not have to be honest with himself.
The Ranger seemed to sit a little bit taller as Ari went into detail about how the corsair outweighed him in both physical impressiveness, and in the ability (supposedly) to provide a warm bedroll. He took a sip of his drink, rolling it around in his mouth thoughtfully. “Oh really?” he finally said, setting down his glass, and leaning back a bit, an amused grin on his lips as he crossed his arms across his chest.
She only laughed. “Don’t puff up, darling, he flew off into the sunset some time ago.” She could say it without the pang of sadness now. Wherever Wil was…
Well, she was certain he was having the sorts of adventures she could only dream of.
“And that,” she decided, “is the last I’ll say of people leaving. I think we should focus on wine. Pour me another.”
All in all, alcohol trumped remembrance, and the company would be enough to take her mind off her troubles until she’d drunk a sufficient amount -- at that point, the wine would take care of the rest.