Ulfy (thehuntgoeson) wrote in nomadsrpg, @ 2013-02-24 21:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | closed, complete, gabriel, lot, week one |
Monday 21st
Who: Lot & Gabriel
What: Lot's making sure they've got enough booze to drown people in...with...whatever...
When: Monday 21st afternoon
Where: Gabriel's dwellings
Why: These are the kind of things people expect him to do. He's feeling predictable.
Status: Complete
(Gabriel in bold initially)
After downing two glasses of paint stripper that he shouldn't have, not only because it tasted like shit but also because it meant that as he walked down towards Gabriel's lab he felt a little lighter footed...though maybe this wasn't a bad thing it was after all a day of celebration and what better way to celebrate his break from prison than by getting completely wasted. Perhaps after he met with their resident brewer he'd go back grab a container and get sauced by himself...
Coming up to his door he knocked politely but didn't wait for an answer, instead he sauntered in like he owned the place (because technically he did). Lot leant against the nearest table and looked at Gabriel.
"Do we have enough gut ruining booze for the locals to drown themselves in?"
Gabriel was playing the role of mad scientist. He knew that there was supposed to be enough booze supplied to make sure everyone was drowned in what ever choice of vice they desired. The large copper vats were emptied for, and barrels were stacked and ready to roll out whenever more was needed.
With the knock at the door, he could only assume one person by how the person was quite... what would the word be... inebriated. Yes, That was the perfect word for what he was thinking. Then when he heard the door open, and Lot’s voice to his right, he only looked to the man.
“Do you doubt my abilities, my fearless and drunken leader?” Raven countered quickly, ignoring the fact he made himself at home. Regardless of what was thought, Raven believed this his. “I manage to get something specific for you this fine evening.” He smirked wickedly. Pulling the goggles from his head, he tossed them onto the workbench where he brew notes were, and fetched a single glass bottle with a deep dark liquid, handing it over. “This is a bottle of my finest. It will go down smooth, and get you all the fucked up.”
Despite the fact that it was true there was something in the way that Gabriel felt so free to call him out on it that rankled with Lot and in response he crossed his arms over his chest and levelled him with a deep but even, possibly petulant, stare, “I’m not drunk,” he objected and it was true...he wasn’t drunk yet, perhaps a little off kilter, but not as drunk as the company he left minutes ago.
He took the bottle and gave it a sniff. The hearty inhale felt like it was singeing his nose hairs, the kind of burn you got from ammonia and he eyed it warily, “Are you sure you can drink it?”
Raven frowned when he was questioned the ability of brew the booze. There was an intent stare, then a shrug. "Only one way to find out." And with that stated, Gabriel made a motion with his hand to drink. Sure his leader was not drunk, but Gabriel didn't hold a lot of tact, and frankly there was little reasoning with it.
Moving away he checked some of the other liquor being fermented to the appropriate degree. Some was more than others, but a lot of the booze being used for the celebration, has been worked on for weeks ahead of time. Without watching Lot, Gabriel continued to speak. “You should know by now...” He slowly trailed off, as he checked the thermometer for an appropriate temperature that was required for the said beer. There was a simple thing at hand, when Raven was working at the stills, he was focused. It was like a soothing joy that allowed him to not loose his mind.
“Oh right.” Gabriel piped up at Lot again, pointing the thermometer at the man. “You need not get defensive. Just by body language alone, you give away intent, or even how inebriated you are. Regardless of what is what, I do not judge you.” Raven laughed lightly. “Remember. I’m already high as a kite.” Then he leaned some. “You want something more... recreational?”