Nor // AU

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[everyone's pretty thrilled that the two odd-men-out have finally been sent up to the surface for an extended mission. the underground world gets a little peace and quiet, and the boys get to stretch their legs. the sniper is much easier to assuage when there's a sun in the sky and more than cell walls to keep him occupied.

they've found a little bar in which to bide their time; shoved between a smoke shop and a greasy restaurant, it's a prime spot for anyone who wants to kick back after their shitty day job. it's dark, it's noisy. smells kind of like sweat and the cigarettes everyone's smoking just out back. someone is almost always blocking the hallway to the restrooms with their oblivious mass. but the neon signs reflect back through the lines of glasses and bottles pretty nice, and the booze is cheap if you order the right things, and there are enough chatty pricks around to keep Robin from getting bored. Irahl, for the most part, has had the luxury of getting plastered in peace.]

Comments

[indigochild]

[it's a better question, and properly framed, so Irahl deigns to actually put some thought toward an answer. he swirls the ice in his glass, watches it spin for a minute. he's never been one to hurry his thoughts, but he's especially slowed at it right now.]

I don't party.

[which is almost an answer. it's at least a hint toward whatever's actually all going on in his head.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

'Kay.

[it'd be pretty funny. the thought of Irahl at a party is enough to spread a grin over his face. him with one of those stupid plastic cups. dancing, maybe? a foot and a half taller than most... no, Irahl would get left in an awkward corner while Robin bangs some girl in the other room and forgets he was supposed to be doing anything in the first place--and he doesn't want to put the guy through that. not while they're supposed to be working tomorrow.

so he asks him another question. or two.] You wanna keep drinking? You bored yet?

[indigochild]

[there's another delay before he replies, but he straightens up--for the first time in hours--and stretches out his shoulders. it's one of those little signs that means that he's thinking. Robin gets to wait again, because Irahl doesn't have a simple answer.

if it had been some night at an earlier point in his life, it would have been easy to decide. having a long history of being bothered into it by coworkers and comrades, it was something he'd sort of taken for granted and hadn't put much value in before.

but now that fresh air and an open sky have become a rarity for him, the thought of ending the night is something that he finds himself not as eager for. it's why that parade of drinks hasn't slowed all night.

all parades must come to an end eventually, though.]

We have work tomorrow.

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[Robin makes a little noise of acknowledgement, barely a hum--hard to hear above the rest of the chatter around them. he doesn't really want to go home either. he likes it up here, where he can pretend to be charming and liked. he enjoys not thinking about all the politics down below, the orders he'll get next. and he likes letting Irahl be out for a while, because he knows how much every inch of the cramped, dingy underground bothers him.

but he doesn't really want to stay, either. he was having fun, but he's kind of... done, now. maybe he's out of practice, but he just feels like... going home. he wishes he had someone to take with him, but work is work.

he's just got Irahl, and he's... well... Robin sighs, eventually.]

That we do. Have one more drink, then we'll go.

[he'll work on getting the bartender's attention again--securing them a couple of waters.]

[indigochild]

[and you'd think that he'd savor it, with it being pronounced as the last one of the night. but that's really what kills it; the night is over so he might as well wrap it up.

he makes it a strong one, though. if it wasn't obvious before that he actually has a goal in mind, the fact that he orders something that generally isn't ordered as a straight drink is a pretty good clue. being on the far side of drunk is definitely something he would like to be right now.

and you bet that drink is going to go fast.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[charming. Robin somehow manages to push those two flimsy plastic cups of water at Irahl without spilling either of them, mere seconds before slithering off of his stool and wobbling--] Whoa, hello-- [back against the counter. he pushes off, finds his balance, and smacks Irahl on the back.]

Drink both of those. I'm going next door, meet me outside.

[he reaches into his pocket, slaps down the appropriate money, and saunters languidly off towards the door.]

[indigochild]

[and once Irahl has downed both cups of water and has found his way up onto his feet--a more treacherous matter when you have so far to fall--he does as instructed, and makes his way out to find Robin.

at least he doesn't look any different than usual. as he does with most things, he's very good at hiding whatever level of intoxication he's at.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[Irahl doesn't have to wait very long. Robin comes out of the nearby shop less than a minute later with one big bottle in a paper bag, and two... smaller bottles, probably, clinking together in another bag... and a couple of bottled waters. he thinks he might have handed the guy at the register way too much money. he walks up to Irahl because he's easy to spot, already forgetting all about it.]

Okay, take something from me. Anything. Take the big one.

[indigochild]

[the moments that Irahl spends standing there and doing nothing are either because he's drunk, or because he quietly likes giving Robin a hard time.

so, it's only eventually that he does as he's told, and brings the label close to his face to read the details.]

...What is all this?

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[Robin fidgets until Irahl actually takes something from him, and then it's a game of rearranging. he manages to shove a bottle of water into Irahl's other hand, or under his arm, or something.]

Booze. I got you booze. I think it's good? I dunno.

[he squints at Irahl for a while before he starts walking away, narrowly avoiding running into a fast-walking person at the last minute.]

C'mon, let's go. How drunk are you?

[indigochild]

[Irahl follows without looking up from the label on the bottle... still reading the fine-print, for some reason. and judging by how he only murmurs to answer Robin's question, it's probably not a very good or well-defined reason.

he looks just fine... but he doesn't try at all when he also narrowly avoids a collision with someone hurrying by. and he's definitely saved by their own reflexes and not his own.

it's a little incriminating.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Okay. Okay.

[Robin stops, swings around him. grabs his arm. pulls him along.]

I'm going to make you holds hands with me if you don't pay attention to where we're going.

[indigochild]

[he growls a little, but it's just an annoyed, human sound. and he shrugs out of the grip when he can, but he does tuck the bottle under his arm instead of continuing to look at it.]

I'm watching... I'm fine.

[he doesn't need to be babysat... especially up here, where he'd very much like to pretend that he's not currently being babysat.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he likes being growled at. it makes him cackle in turn, even though he surrenders the arm.]

Uh-huh. And I want to see you drink that whole thing of water before tonight is over, oka--

[hold up, good-looking boys at 2 o'clock. Robin doesn't slow down, but he sure turns to get a look--again, nearly knocking into a couple of people, only dodging away on account of above-human reflexes. he turns forward.]

Uh, what was I saying?

[indigochild]

[he watches Robin turn, and pointedly doesn't turn to watch whoever it is that he's eyeballing. it's a skill he's honed from working with a bunch of lowlifes day and day out. he keeps his gaze dutifully forward and down, patiently waiting for Robin's attention to return.]

Water. [--helpfully.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[and Robin, as he has probably learned, is practically a professional low-life.]

Oh yeah, drink that shit. Do you dehydrate? Serious question. Don't make fun of me.

[he keeps his words rattling with hardly any mind to back them up, making pace, steering them out of the way of incoming groups. Irahl always keeps his head down like that. another question boils away while the dragon does or doesn't answer.]

[indigochild]

Not really.

[which is a very simple version of a more complicated answer, but he doubts Robin will pursue it. he's answered with something, and that's probably what matters.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Oh, well. [he reaches up to playfully smack at his shoulder.] Humor me, drink it anyway. And another question. Are you into girls? You seem pretty...

[he waffles a little, like he had an adjective to give him along with the sudden question--but he doesn't. no descriptor comes.]

[indigochild]

[...hmm.

to his credit, he doesn't glance up or hesitate now anymore than he had earlier. if the question hits him strangely, he does an excellent job of hiding it.

it's only after Robin trails off and definitely leaves his sentence hanging that Irahl finally stirs, giving him a short, sideways look.]

...Pretty what?

[and he's only halfway sure that he actually wants the answer.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[maybe he's going easy on him... but, given the way his saunter is wobbling back and forth, and how he keeps squinting up at street signs, he might not have enough conniving mentality in him to go easy. Irahl might be safer than he fears.]

Ah, what's the word... Uninterested? You don't seem interested.

[or not.]

[indigochild]

Do I ever?

[seem interested, that is, in anything that isn't a meticulously-kept rifle.

he forges on, one foot in front of the other, in a doggedly straight line while Robin meanders back and forth. simply staying the course.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

[he laughs. again. he's very free with his laughter when he's had something to drink. it's not a mean one; he thinks it's funny that he'd say that, since it's pretty true.]

Nah, you pay attention to some things more than other stuff. [poor Irahl might find it a little hard to stay his course when Robin falls back to bump bodily into his side.] So you don't like girls.

[indigochild]

[oh, and there is an answer as to whether he's actually drunk or not. he's focusing on his own feet, carefully monitoring the ground in front of him, and then Robin goes and suddenly throws it all off. he knocks him off course mid-step, stumbling up those long legs of his and sending him staggering a hilarious few steps off to the side.

he rolls with it, luckily, and continues on until he finds his feet again so that he doesn't actually fall. which means he doesn't wander back to the same straight path he'd been following before until long, drunken moments later.]

...I never said that. [--once he's straightened out and carrying on like Robin never tripped him up.]

[birdsbirdsbirds]

Wow.

[he's... a little impressed. Irahl didn't drop his bottles or anything. he was a little concerned that he might have to dive in for an assist--but there he goes, wobbling back and heading in a straight line like nothing even happened.

so Robin catches up and takes the lead again, tucking his own bottles more securely, cutting them around a corner.]

...You like boys?

[this must be the pesky, irritating stage of Robin's night.]

[indigochild]

[pesky. definitely irritating. but Irahl isn't anything if he's not patient, long-suffering, and a monumental challenge to ruffle.

he takes the turn--both figuratively and literally--without a misstep.]

You like boys.

[he's heard the rumors.]