InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I like cheerios better"

Marcus Flint (marcedflint) wrote in finnigans_rpg,
@ 2014-08-28 23:03:00

Entry tags:

character: blaise zabini, character: marcus flint

Who: Marcus and Blaise
What: Friends drinking
Where: Finnegan's
When: August 28, 2004; early evening
Rating: TBD - Currently SFW, but may change.

Marcus still found it a little strange that he spent so much of his free time in a bar, given that his own drinking habits tended to be 'little to none'. But it was the atmosphere and the social environment that kept bringing him back, rather than the alcohol, and when Blaise had asked for company tonight, there had been absolutely no reason not to join.

So once practice had ended for the day, he'd headed out rather than just staying home. He walked from his apartment, rather than taking any magical means, because even now it was a wonder to have the freedom to do. The ability to put one foot in front of the other that took him to a destination of his choosing that wasn't another wall, and to breath in clean, fresh air while he did so was no longer a novelty, but still not something to be taken for granted. It may have taken him a little longer than it would have otherwise, but his enjoyment in the action far outweighed the few extra minutes it took to navigate his way through Diagon and Monument Alleys to get to the pub.

Stepping inside, Marcus moved out of the way of the door and stood still for a moment, giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the difference in the lighting before looking around for the familiar face of his friend. Not seeing the other man anywhere, he made his away further into the room, claiming a table for four along one of the walls. He sat down to wait for Blaise and whomever else might be joining them, consciously choosing a seat with his back to the wall so that he was less likely to be sneaked up on, just one of the quirks he hadn't quite been able to rid himself of since the war.

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dark_blaise
2014-08-30 03:10 am UTC (link)

If you had asked Blaise in his formative years if he would have been a regular at a pub the answer would have been no. Pubs were typically full of sleazy people who had nothing better to do with their time than drink. However, time had taught Blaise that is was definitely more pathetic to drink at home alone than it was to head out with or in search of companions.

When he arrived at Finnigan's Blaise immediately ordered two drinks and made his way up to the roost. He was compelled to take a look around and was glad he'd finished the first glass by the time he entered the room as he hadn't been expecting any activity. Then again the only time he was ever up here was the occasional Tuesday. Blaise placed the now empty glass at the first table he passed before leaning against the wall and nursing the other while he watched the match that was playing out before him.

When he finished his drink he watched until a winner was declared before heading downstairs. He walked straight to the bar and ordered another round and placed enough galleons on the bar to keep the next four coming. Blaise had meant it when he said he was going to drink until it was impossible to think tonight. He turned and leaned against the bar as he came close to finishing off his third and spotted Marcus across the bar at a table. Placing the now empty glass on the bar he took up his fourth and instructed for the others to be sent one at a time to the table. After all, he wasn't planning on actually getting up.

"Marcus," he said without expanding on their interaction as he took a seat.

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marcedflint
2014-08-30 10:23 pm UTC (link)

Having spotted Blaise across the bar, Marcus kept half an eye on his friend, taking note of the determined manner in which the man was drinking. That observation served to solidify his instinct that it had been a good idea to come out tonight, if only for the possibility of being a shoulder to lean on for the trip back home. He didn't need to know the reason for being supportive, only that it was needed, and that was why he was here.

"Blaise," he responded in kind as the other man sat down, bringing the majority of his attention to his friend. He was here to be supportive, no matter if that meant sitting in silence, or listening to whatever Blaise had going on in his head if he needed to get it off his chest, or taking part in a completely frivolous conversation to take his mind of whatever was bothering him. Not sure what sort of answer he'd receive, he still felt it was necessary to ask, "How've you been?"