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[25 Jan 2012|10:56pm] |
Who: Alair and Merton
Where: A pub in Ipswish. Sorry. Ipswich.
What: Congratulations on a job well done (or, testing a theory)
When: January 25th, evening
Rating: PG
Status: Complete
Merton, not for the first time now, was in a pub. What made the difference between this and previous pub occurrences, however, was that he was in this one with Alair. By invitation. Alair had referred to it as 'rewarding him', although from the way Alair had looked like he was ready to throttle Merton the third time in a row he'd used "Fine" as an answer to a question about the tour, Merton wasn't sure why Alair would consider him worthy of a reward. He had done three interviews, though, and hadn't attempted to disappear once. Well, all right, there was that one time when the terrifying blonde reporter who kept twirling her quill and snapping her gum at him had started...well...infringing on his personal space more than Merton would prefer, but that hardly counted. He hadn't made it very far. Alair had to have some sort of detection spell that alerted him when Merton was trying to bolt.
So now they were in a pub. Having drinks. Together. And soup, in Alair's case, which was probably a good thing, since he looked less than his best right now, even slicked-back and in a suit. There hadn't been anything on the menu that Merton could eat, so the staff had brought him some raw vegetables, which he'd been picking at in between sips of his deliciously fruity drink. Which Alair had also bought him. Merton would be suspicious, but Alair looked altogether too miserable to be...what? Luring him into a false sense of security through delicious fruity drinks so he could make Merton agree to interviews that he'd already done? Trying to win his sympathies so that Merton would support Alair during his time of soupy need? It didn't make sense.
Merton kept staring at Alair, silent and slightly wide-eyed, and sucked the last of his drink through the pink spiral straw that had accompanied it. Watchfully.
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