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Tweak says, "Expecto Patronum"

Dr. John Watson (beltandbraces) wrote in hobbs_end,
@ 2015-06-03 13:49:00

Entry tags:

ouat: killian jones, rating: pg, ritchieverse: dr john watson

WHO: Watson & Hook.
WHERE: Scarlet Crown Hotel's pub, around 9pm~
WHAT: Potential drunken conversation, and more.
RATING PG.
STATUS: Completed.

What better time was there to linger at a pub, if it didn’t involve being trapped in a town? And an unknown town, at that? It had been roughly one week since Watson arrived in Hobb’s End, though arrived perhaps wasn’t the best word. For instance, he had never heard of this town before, and he had no recollection as to how he arrived. At most, all he could say was that one day he was home in London, and all of a sudden he was in Hobb’s End. There was no telling where this town is, be it in the same country or somewhere else entirely. The architecture could, and should have been a clue, but judging by the varying styles… Hobb’s End could be anywhere.

For the first few days, Watson had done as much as he could in finding other people, of which there were only a few. Hobb’s End wasn’t a very lively place. Time would tell if that was a positive sign, one that Watson didn’t concern himself with. There were more important matters, such as how difficult it was to leave the town. There were still a few exits left to test, as it were, but Watson had had enough of literal dead-ends, hence why he was now at the Scarlet Crown Hotel’s pub. It seemed like the best choice, because it didn't require him to leave the hotel itself. As far as he knew, his new-found flat-mate was upstairs, or was out somewhere in town. Watson hadn't seen the pirate captain since mid-morning. It might not have been the best decision, sharing a room with Jones, but all things considered.. Watson had never liked living on his own.

He probably should have waited for Jones to show up at the pub, but there wasn’t a genuine need to. It wasn’t as though there was nearly nothing left behind the counter, and that there were no staff, no matter what time it was. Watson had decided to start a check-list. Something to keep a record of what was available, how much, and a rough estimate of when the liiquor supply would run out. In his opinion, that wouldn’t happen for quite some time, if he and Jones were truly on their own.

Presently, Watson had moved from the counter to a table, that was next to a billiards table. He didn’t stay seated for long at the table, eventually moving to stand by the far end of the billiards table. Leaning against the table’s edge, a half-full glass of whiskey in his left hand, and with his opposite hand he was idly rolling a couple billiard balls across the table. His drink barely had any water in it; diluting the whiskey tonight wasn’t an option. If- and when Jones finally showed up, Watson might change his mind, might not. It partly depended on if the other man was interested in talking. For the time being, Watson just took the opportunity to enjoy the whiskey’s buzzing sensation.

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arcane
2015-06-17 12:01 pm UTC (link)

No harm ever came from trying - well, most of the time. But Killian was far too stubborn not to, especially when he was trapped. Sure, it may seem like a gilded cage at first, what with the supply of alcohol and entertainment (like billiards, and clack - when he took his next turn, there sunk a couple of balls, how the fuck he could still see straight was a question for the ages). But in all actuality, this place was dangerous. Just the air itself, breathing it in, seemed heavy and suffocating and toxic - something was quite amiss.

The sooner that they left, the better. In his opinion.

Cue stick also set down in surrender the same time as Watson, and the grin on Hook's face could have rivaled the full moon. "Ah, you are correct," he noted about the stash of alcohol. "If we are going to be stuck here for the moment, may as well get properly sloshed - before we team up, that is, since I'm sure we'll want to be sharp for that. But aye, tomorrow, mate." He pushed off where he'd been leaning against the pool table, hip resting there. "I believe that sounds more than agreeable."

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beltandbraces
2015-06-18 03:56 am UTC (link)

Engaging in a little bit of trial-and-error was something Watson was familiar with, even if he was more or less led into certain situations.. and by a certain detective who will remain nameless. Jones’ idea of exploring, and investigating likely exits in town probably wouldn’t end well.

Both men had already tried leaving the town, and all attempts had ended in failure. Admitting defeat this easily wasn’t in Watson’s nature, however, and so he was interested in giving it another try.

Watson’s lack of interest in the game was telling; and in turn the outcome was obvious. He wasn’t going to finish this game. When it became his turn, he didn’t even acknowledge it; how could he, when his glass was still empty? Chances are that if he still had the cue stick in hand, he’d probably miss the next shot, or worse, pot the wrong ball and lose points: as though anyone was still keeping score. Keeping track of the whiskey seemed more important to him right now.

“Do you think it wise, though? Here we are, in a hotel, in a strange town, drinking liquor that may not be all it seems.” If there was something wrong with the drinks, such a fact had yet to become known to the two men: if it will happen at all. Watson was going against his better judgement here, simply because… there had to be a reason for it, surely. He lowered his glass and glanced at the billiards time, seemed to be judging the pros and cons of continuing the game.

“…so it’s agreed, then. If either of us can remember it, we’ll continue our game later. Tomorrow, the day after.. I won’t speak for you, but if I drink any more, I won’t be able to see what I’m aiming for.” Watson didn’t wait for Jones’ answer, and made a beeline for the pub counter. It didn’t take him long to find the whiskey bottle, but he didn’t return to the billiards table. Instead, he claimed a seat at the counter and filled his glass to the brim, and the bottle was set on the countertop: within reach, mind you. If Jones wanted it, he’d most likely have to say the magic word.

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arcane
2015-06-19 12:15 am UTC (link)

Oh, now that was an excellent point, wasn't it? Who the bloody hell knew what was in this whiskey? Or where it had been distilled, what it was made from - then again, Hook was what one might call a functioning alcoholic. He knew his booze. And nothing tasted particularly amiss about their poison of choice, but then again, if a mysterious foggy town could plop them in here with no explanation whatsoever, then he wouldn't put it past the place to drug them either.

Hm. Tasted alright, though.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders," Killian praised, ~~stumbling~~ making his way to the bar right after Watson - first he rolled the eight ball into its pocket all on his own, without hitting it with the stick. Just to put an official end to the game, ha, there we go! See, it was done now. "Well, we'll finish this bottle and then see what happens to us - if we're turned into newts or what have you."

Selecting the seat next to Watson, he reached for the bottle and...drank right from it. Refreshingly. "Cheers!" The start of a beautiful partnership indeed.

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beltandbraces
2015-06-19 03:54 am UTC (link)

Watson had more experience in pubs— and gambling dens, than he could ever hope to confess to anyone, with one or two exceptions. The whiskey didn’t taste unusual, or else he wouldn’t have drained his glass. He likely would have done something else about it, which could mean any number of acts.

“It’s taken you this long to realise that, has it?” He meant that as both a compliment, and a little something else that was considerably different. Regardless, his mind was set on reaching his tolerance level, and slipping past it. Jones’ decision to end the game on his own was entirely missed by Watson, and should it be mentioned, the physician would probably be too soaked to mind. If they had been playing to win something valuable, then that would be a different story, outcome and all.

A bit preoccupied with his own glass, Watson all but failed to notice that Jones essentially stole the whiskey bottle. There were more bottles to take, that much he was certain of, so Watson merely shrugged in response and then lifted his full glass to Jones. “Cheers, Captain. May our plan end well, but if you expect me to wake you early, that might be our first problem.”

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