Ghet and Foxxfire

The Dining Hall, Blackthorn Keep

Well, Vic seemed to have things well in hand. He was abreast of the situation, even. Ghet clapped Foxx firmly on the back. "Yes, I think we may procede in the certain knowledge of a job well done. Unless she does drown. Maybe we should hook up some kind of alarm... Oh hell, he'll yell, right?"

They left the couple to it, and Ghet, dangerously approaching sobriety, gave a sigh. She was avoiding, rather successfully, a number of quite important things. "Now, I should head home. I have to drop Rhagi off with Ro soon. Drunk Mummy is terribly embarrassing, and Ro would go all... y'know, funny. Ro's funny." Okay, so she wasn't incredibly sober.

Foxx did what she often did to friends who were starting to hit the downsweep of their drunken madness, she flipped Ghetsums hair into her face. "Brienne will be fine, Vic fears for his life."

This confused (in general) the heck outta people and distracted them. All to the good.

"Clowns are funny too and thousands of people are afraid of them . . Particularly after this one birthday party I hosted . . I actually thought it went rather well. But thats off topic. I can sober you up a bit if you want, or go with you. I'm certain I can be much more embarassing." Foxx grinned and laughed a bit. "Whatever you need babe, you name it you got it. I just sucessfully made and implemented a plan. Duker owes me one now and its all yours."

Ghet spat hair out of her mouth, gave up trying to push it all out of her face, and bent at the waist, hair brushing the floor, then flipped her head violently upright. Her hair settled neatly back in place. She staggered slightly to the right and collided with a wall. Then she laughed and wrapped an arm around Foxx's waist and pulled her into a hug. "Ohhhh, you're much more embarrassing than I am. Unless you're talking to one of my sons, in which case, I believe I'm still the most embarrassing thing in the universe. Which is interesting, given who their fathers are. Ro is seriously scary, but not in that clown way. More in that 'please threaten me again more growl this time and possibly some bruising' kind of way."

Ghet made a serious and mostly successful attempt to stand upright unaided. "Okay, let's go sober me up. What do you suggest we use. Vodka?" 

Foxx laughed and hugged Ghet right back "I'll take the embarassing thing as a compliment because I'm too drunk for even mock righteous indignation . . Speaking of Drunk and sobering up Evveryone knows Beer before liquor never sicker . . Course the thing about aphori-i-ismseses is that you need to test them periodically to make sure they're true and you don't look like an idiot spouting them. So that its also sobering us up we'll have to put some water in . . Ice cubes should do nicely . . On 'Ro I'll take your word for it Silverthorn could kick my ass so bad I'd have felt it last week, assuming I wasn't also retroactively dead".

"Y'know We need a drinking song . ."

Ghet snickered evilly. Well, she was aiming for evil, but her aim was a little off this evening. "Silverthorn is a scary scary woman. Who just happens to loathe me and everything I stand for. Sometimes I get this odd tingly feeling between my shoulderblades, you know?" And then she laughed, as that odd drunken clarity gave her a revelation. "Y'Roden was worth every damn minute of it, though. I made these little dolls, you know, juuuust like him. I'll get you one. Hmmmmm, in fact... you should come into the shop sometime so I can take measurements. I've dolled him, and Galain, and me, and Thaya. I think a Foxx doll would go down realllllly well."

She shifted, so that she and Foxx now maintained equilibrium, as long as they never stopped leaning on each other. "Right! Iced-down vodka and the composing of a suitable drinking song." 

Foxx almost snickered hard enough to upset the equilibrium. Fortunately the law of least effort which might be the central law of her existence held out and so they remained standing, giggling. "Alright, but you'll have to certify for me that it will be useless for voodoo . ." Sinking into a consiratorial whisper, well an attempt "My enemies are few, yet creative"

A better word might have been crazy. For most.

"S'good about Y'roden. That it's worth it aferwords". Foxx squinted checking the insides of her eyelids for a moment "Thats not right. ERm AffffTERwords Er Well buggerit after everything. I can't say that about many people but if I keep going I'll get melancholy and thats terrrrrrrrible when mixed with vodka, even iced down so I'll stop."

"It can't be possible to Loathe EVERYTHING you stand for." Foxx paused to think "Nope, Impossible, too great a diversity of beliefs n'all." 

Ghet grinned, swayed, and they made a few feet of progress down the hallway. The largest distance between two points is always the sideways zigzag. "Well, I have a doll of Silverthorn, so either they're voodoo-proof, or I just don't have the pin-sticking microwave-baking squirrel-feeding knack. And I'm perfectly prepared to believe that she shifts her stance constantly so that she retroactively hates everything I stand for even when I change my mind about something. But she hasn't killed my son yet despite threatening to, so I guess she's not all bad." She sighed, and bounced off yet another wall. "You'd have liked Ro back when he still had his balls. Figuratively speaking, of course. I wonder if she keeps 'em in a little box..."

Then she too managed to detect the approach of a maudlin drunk, and veered wildly to avoid it. They also seemed to have finally worked their way back to the dining hall. "Right, just one more, and then I have to go." She snickered violently. It wasn't the first time she'd said that. "So we'd better make it a big one."

"We could just put a straw into a cask . . Course the problem with that is that every time your straw falls in you need to get another and by the end it gets really difficult. Not to mention the trouble involved in drinking the vodka that has fallen between the straws at the end. I went through four or eight boxes of straws that way, my vision was kinda blurry at the end. 'Course on the upside I was blacked out right through the hangover.

"I woke up in a bacta tank three weeks later, I think it was three weeks, I heard stories for months after, if I was sure they were true I'd tell them. Those were good times. The Parts I remember anyway. Well half good or better. Wild times. Times. Definitely times".

Foxx snickered madly "How do you compose a song? I don't think I've ever done that." 

She shook her head. "I've never woken up in a bacta tank, and for this I am profoundly grateful. I've woken up in some bloody strange positions, but usually acutely aware of how I got there." She'd woken up once suspended from the ceiling in a leather harness with a dead body at her feet... "Acutely aware. Where's my vodka? Right. Now. All drinking song must start with a big Oh sort of noise, drawn out like that noise a train whistle makes going past you, the Doppleganger effect, and then..."

She took a long suck on her straw, blew some bubbles, and began:

"Ohhhhh, long red hair and tits out to here,
Seldom to be found with our underwear
If your ship's run aground and your prince can't be found
It's a pretty safe bet we've been around..."

She giggled, snorted vodka, and fell off her stool.