|2046-09-20 In Possession of a Drink|
|Location||The Sloppy Pony - Mutant Town|
|Summary||Armando makes good on his promise to find Ian a drink. Ian redecorates the Pony. A little.|
|Related Logs||2046-09-20 In Need of A Drink|
| There used to be glass in the heavy old frame of the door, but now several boards serve to keep the vermin out -- or, do they? You made it in.
An old hitching post greets patrons along the wall by the door, right next to a broken old jukebox that's just for show. The room itself is narrow and long, with mismatched chairs crowded around a couple (literally, two) small tables and a few crates dispersed elsewhere to sit on, but mostly it's all dancefloor, baby. The bar itself must be original, because despite it's dilapidated condition it's actually fairly well-kitted. There's a couple beers on tap, even. A sink, with shoddy plumbing, but it's a sink, coupled with a fridge whose light is always flickering, but keeps bottles icy cold. Thanks to the kid behind the bar, the collection of poisons to pick from is growing, too.There's a dartboard at the back, with darts available from the bar staff upon request, and tacks to pin up your choice of photograph to toss at. Right next to it is the door leading upstairs to the proprietor's office/living quarters, pockmarcked by stray dart-holes. The peeling paint and mold seeping through the ceiling are barely even noticeable in the dim light from the hanging, singular string bulbs around the place. Less so after a drink or three, so bottoms up!
Settled at one of the mismatched tables, that has become even more mismatched since they started drinking, it doesn't take long for one drink to turn into two. Slumping into the neon yellow table on his bright turquoise chair, Ian regards Armando with large green eyes as he expounds upon what has him so out of sorts. Waving around his second drink, a rum and coke, he admits, "It's not that everyone disappeared to /freaking space/ that kills me... it's just. They all lied about it. All of them. To my face." Shaking his head, he looks down at his now-purple glass. "And I don't know... I don't know what I think about it."
Armando is either the best drinking partner or the worst when you are out of sorts and changing colors of things. Because he giggles and cheers every time it happens. Which suggests a little bit of repressed hatred of his other workplace, but let's not dwell. The Pony will survive. Hardly anyone will probably even notice. He didn't suggest they go to a /nice/ bar, where people /care/ about the sort of thing. "I am sorry," he says, all consoling, if also very confused about this 'space' thing. "No one has lied to me," he says, while everyone ever has lied to him.
Really the colours... almost make the Pony a little more cheerful. They certainly POP in the dark and dingy space of the bar, if to a slightly eye searing degree. The more things change colours, the more Ian finds himself leaning into the table - exhausted by the day. "Yeah. I mean. It's crazy right? I get why people wouldn't want to say they went to outer space - but they did. Orianne has pictures. But like /all/ my friends outright said other things to my face?" He frowns. "Am I not trustworthy?" Finishing his drink, he shakes his head at Armando. "I would never lie to you."
Drinking straight whiskey, Armando sips at his glass and watches the table change color again. He keeps his amusement to his eyes this time, at least. "I am still having a little trouble believing this thing," he admits, shuffling his feet against the floor and humming to himself. "Space if very...I do not know. Cold? It seems so far away...it is the stuff of fiction, what you say." Though he isn't entirely dismissive because Mutant Town is weird, just...a different weird than going to space. "Aw, no, I know amigo." He pats Ian's hand. A little carefully. Plz no turn blue. "I cannot speak for the others, maybe they did not think people should know?"
"The pictures were pretty damning," Ian says mildly, lifting a hand to drag his fingers through his hair anxiously. His jaw sets a little, shifting as if he is chewing on a thought. "I don't know how they got there. Orianne said some of them were kidnapped. I've experienced other... dimensions myself. So I'm inclined to believe," he says softly. "It's the thing of fiction, but so are we in a way." Mutants are weird. Armando does not turn blue patting his hand. He smiles a little at the other man. "Maybe. But so many? So casually... like almost all my friends were there. That whole lost month." He shakes his head, then looks around the room. "This was a good idea." A thing his has /never/ said about the Pony before. "Sorry you had to take off work to deal with me."
"I have not seen these things, but I believe you." Of course Armando does, even if this leaves him shuffling his feet against the floor uncomfortably. Of course he believes. "She was talking about portals before you came in. But there are so many of those in town? I just thought she meant the mutants, portaling, maybe some of the weird stuff...tricks. Not...space." Space seems so FAR. "Mm, but I am more of a thing or romance novels, not science fiction novels, no?" He does his best to lean casually in his seat, crossing his legs and fixing Ian with a look from under his dark brows. "So..." Hold on his figuring something out. "So people...who were not here for awhile....they all went to space?" His brain hurts, Ian, make it stop. "It is what friends are for."
Ian is a very truthful kind of fellow. "No. I mean, maybe, but not that many that I've seen. I've only experienced two kinds and only one of those took you to an alternate fantasy realm." Sliding a hand back through his hair, he sighs. "And I am pretty sure that's still anchored to her." The portal. "Are you a romance novel kind of guy?" The dark and sultry look is a little lost on Ian. "...yeah. I think so." Weird. "Do you need another drink?"
"This is a thing that happened, no?" An alternate fantasy realm. Armando is pretty sure it was something like that. "Or...maybe not?" He's familiar enough with people, but may not always the same people. Portal people. "Mmm, maybe just the covers." The dark and sultry look is always a little lost on Ian. Armando just suffers through the lack of appreciation with good graces. "That is so weird." Everyone leaving for space. He shakes his head in disbelief. "Oh, si!" He's not done with his glass, but a second later he pounds back the rest of it and grins. There!
"Yeah." Ian is also pretty sure. "It's just the one I went to was a different one." So there are apparently multiple and this does nothing for his calm. "Those have dudes with long hair and unbuttoned shirts, don't they?" He confirms with a bit of a grin. "It is /so/ weird. It's we need another round of drinks weird." Armando's dramatic finish of his drink earns a little bit of applause before he collects the glasses. "Alright. I got this." Taken them over to the bar, he's careful not to touch anything. Although that might not just be because he's turning things colors tonight.
It doesn't do a whole lot for Armando's calm, either, but he mostly sits in his chair and looks confused, all wide-eyed and at a loss. "I could unbutton my shirt!" He looks down and paws at his chest a moment. Wait. "This shirt does not have buttons. But if it did, I could." So there. "This /is/ we need more drinks weird..." He trails off, watching Ian with some concern. "Are you sure?" Because you are drunk and changing the colors of things, man. Not that he isn't finding that terribly amusing.
"That would be difficult," Ian jokes, waving a hand at the lack of buttons. There are no buttons there. "But I could see it. Maybe like halloween or something. Armando man of mystery." Such mystery. "Yeah, I"m sure. I got this." It doesn't take him long to collect the drinks and he even wraps Armando's in a napkin so he doesn't change the color of that glass too, only stumbling a little over his shoes as he returns to the table. There might have been a shot between a few of those drinks.
There are no buttons there. Armando flusters over this a bit, feathers puffing up. "If I had buttons!" He repeats. "Man of mystery is not a costume." What are you, new to Halloween? Not that his outfits get very elaborate, due to funding issues. His keen eyes watch Ian's stumbling walk to the bar and back again, brows lifting up for the napkin wrapped glass. "Did they ask you to stop touching the glasses?" A few are more colorful than they once were.
"Romance cover hero could be," Ian argues as he sits back down, setting a glass back in front of Armando. He flushes a little at the question about the glasses. "Well.. I figured you might uh want yours… glass coloured." He was trying to be polite. His turns as red as his freckles.
"Hmmm, it'd be a very particular kind of romance hero, with these." Armando spreads his wings a little with a flap. But he is indoors so he behaves even though he is drinking and already kind of not behaving. "Oh. Yes. That is...I wonder if it would taste different." He leans forward suddenly. "You could make the beer green without food coloring!" He is a GENIUS.
"A dashing one?" Ian suggests in confusion, blinking as Armando spreads his wings with a flap. His wings are awesome. And remain awesome. Neither of them are really behaving tonight as Ian knocks back another draught of what is now whiskey in his glass. "No…?" His green eyes go wide at the sudden lean forward, brows rising. "Yes?" He could. "Do you want it green?"
"I am always dashing," Armando claims, like he never has moments of bird floof awkwardness. At the moment, though, he is a bit drunk and very confident. He's great. Space is confusing, but he is great. "No, it is not the St. Patrick's Day yet! But! Next time!" He slaps the table, very enthusiastic about this idea.
"Clearly." Clearly Dashing. Like a romance cover. Ian is not going to disabuse him of this notion, particularly not as they are commiserating and /drinking/. "Cheers!" Lifting his glass, a little sloshing onto his wrist, he clinks glasses.
"Clearly!" Armando is not especially dashing at the moment, but he's not /not/ dashing either, so he's going to believe he is very dashing. "Salud!" He clinks his glass with Ian's.
Following the toast, Ian knocks back a good portion of his glass with a grin and cheer. "Dude. You are such good company," he compliments, slumping back into his chair. This will be a night that they drink until they are good and drunk before stumbling their way back to the avenue B apartments."I am!" Armando agrees cheerfully with no sense of humility. Or, at least, a lot of confidence. "And so are you!" It helps that he's complimentary. "It is not your fault all your friends are astronauts." That is not...quite what happened, but okay. He will help Ian drink enough to forget about that for a bit and then help him back to the apartments as well.