Who: Auron and Alistair in their cartoony glory What: Scientific experimentation to see if cartoons can get blitzed out of their minds. When: Sunday night. Where: The Unnamed Pub. I don't remember where it is. Semi-open, if other people want to put their pups in the bar to watch them make asses of themselves. Warnings: I'm going to assume swearing, and who knows, maybe one of them is a naked drunk. My money's on Alistair.
This was annoying.
Auron adapted very well to most situations. To tell the truth, the weapon didn't annoy him. The same thing had happened in the Underworld. But the change to the very laws of physics was draining on his nerves. He'd never put up well with rampant stupidity, and now even nature had turned the buffoon.
He sat in the pub, waiting for Alistair. He had grown fond of the company of the warrior. They saw eye to eye in many ways. He was the only company he could think of save Lulu that would not drive him even more insane in this state. Nursing the stout the small bartender had assured him was the house's best, he brooded.