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Epiphany Greaves does it better than you (youngalchemist) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2010-08-17 23:13:00

Entry tags:

epiphany greaves, sam winchester

Who: Epiphany Greaves and Sam Winchester
What: Sam gets drunk and stuff.
When: After dark, March 18th.
Where: A bar.
Warnings: Probably just language. And drinking.

Epiphany Greaves was used to weirdness in her life, that was for sure. But this world took that to a whole new level. And she was pretty sure it would even have John scratching his head on a regular basis.

So, when it came down to it, it shouldn't have come to a surprise to anyone that Epiphany might want to get a several drinks after being stuck there for a couple weeks. It wasn't that it was the first night she'd felt the need for something that might numb her brain for a while, far from it. But drinks were a pretty big part of how they coped with crazyness back home. At least she wasn't hard up for money. Far from it, actually. One of the perks of being an alchemist. Worst comes to worst? She makes gold and then takes it to one of the places that simply buys gold. Walks out with cash in hand. Never even has to try to work more money out of the blokes that work there.

She hadn't been in Lawrence quite long enough to have a favorite bar, so she picked one at random that night, stopping at the first one she came to. Thankfully, she hadn't been displaced in time the way others around seemed to be, so she flashed her still current, though foreign, driver's license as she made her way inside. And it didn't take her long to decide to just make a bee-line to the bar and grab a stool there. She might have tried mingling a big more if she was in the mood to pick someone up, which she often was back home, but not so much that night. It didn't take her long to get the attention of the bartender and order a nice strong glass of whiskey.

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youngalchemist
2010-08-19 02:55 am UTC (link)

Epiphany couldn't help chuckling at how far gone the guy obviously was. "Bloody hell," she said simply, grinning as she watched him. "You are plastered alright. How much have you had?" Not that she thought it was a bad thing when people got this far gone. Hell, she did it herself quite often. Enough that she tended to keep a small vial of anti-hangover potion in her pocket whenever she knew was going to be hitting a bar. Partly because it wasn't fun to wake up somewhere that wasn't your own apartment with very little memory of how you got there in the first place, but it was even worse when you had a bastard of a hangover to top it all off.

But when he kept on talking she just perked a brow as she listened, trying not to laugh at him even more. "Yeah, my hair's blue. Because I happen to like the color." Why else would it be blue? It was in no way a natural color on anyone, so the only options really came of dye or a wig. But Epiphany wasn't a fan of wigs. They just made your head too hot and were too much of a bother to put on in the first place. "Yeah, you know me. From that website for all us people in the know about the crazy." And with that she took another couple gulps of her whiskey.

"That why you're here? The crazy?"

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ex_demonbloo908
2010-08-19 07:12 am UTC (link)

That was actually a good question. Sam was pretty sure he hadn't had that many beers, but he had been sitting in the bar for a good while. His mind was kind of fuzzy on that note. "I have had enough." At that, Sam slammed his beer down on the bar loudly. A few heads turned their way, but Sam waved them off with a sweep of one long arm. "I think blue hair is very strange. I don't want my hair to be blue! It'd look funny. I'd be -" Sam bit his lip and frowned. "Like a clown with blue hair. And I hate clowns. They are the most ridiculously terrifying creatures out there and I am telling you this as a man who has seen a lot scary things." Even though he had just declared that he'd had enough to drink, Sam reached out and picked up his beer again for another sip. Clowns. Ugh. That really wasn't the type of thing that he needed to put on his mind at the moment. Killer fucking clowns.

"It's good that you're from the boards," Sam told her. "Now I don't have to pretend that I'm..." He put out a hand and attempted quotations. "Normal. I used to be so good at it. But now I forget a lot." Sam laughed. "Or maybe that's just right now. What was your name again?" She must have been relatively new if Sam didn't recognize her on sight. He might have been pretty far gone, but he still had enough of a mind to remember that much, at least. "I'm here 'cause I need a break from my kind of crazy. Sometimes it makes other kinds of crazy look pretty average." Sam tapped at the mouth of his bottle slowly. "I have a problem. With myself. It makes it hard for me to be around people. Or...a certain type of people. It's no good." Definitely wasn't any good. He couldn't be around his girlfriend, nor could he safely walk into a hunt when there was a chance he might end up feeding off of the monsters he was trying to kill off in the first place. Sam definitely wanted to get better, but the road to recovery was tougher than he had thought it would be. That was why, on nights like this, he had to find some sort of relief. Alcohol was as good as it got. It was nowhere near as strong or powerful as the demon blood had been, but it did it's job well enough.

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