A small interruption (FennWenn and Cards_of_Fate)

[Cards of Fate]

Vince cracked his knuckles and shot the two of them a bit of a grin. He hadn’t thought too terribly far ahead on this one, so he was playing it by ear. “Yes, a game. I came here to drink with my buddy, not be weighed down by the mistakes of our past.” He rose from his seat and began to pace the room.

“The only problem is what sort of game should we play?” He asked looking between the two of them. “John is a horrible businessman and gets incredibly angry at monopoly.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “And of the games from my homeland I have only managed to recreate a few from memory…”

Finally, and impish smile came across Vincent’s lips. “I’ve got it!” He exclaimed pounding a fist into an open palm. “We’ll play truth or dare!” The scholar turned back to the table and chuckled. “The rules are incredibly simple! Lets say I ask John ‘truth or dare’. John can either answer truth, or dare. Truth means he answers a question, Dare means he does something I tell him to. After he has answered or done his feat, he gets to ask someone next.”

The scholar blinked back to his seat and rubbed his hands together. “I’ll start. John, Truth or Dare.”

[redford]

An especially ridiculous and troublesome game.

He'd need a few more drinks for this one. He reached behind to a small cabinet, retrieving a bottle of amber liquid, growing a corkscrew from a finger in order to open it. He took a swig from the bottle (which was quite a dose compared to smaller folk), and spoke, the only word that could avoid embarrassment.

"Truth"

[Cards of Fate]

The scholar frowned, his lips drooping into a sideways half moon and he drummed his fingers on the table. He'd hoped John was going to be a little more adventurous than that, but perhaps some alcohol would do the trick. He chewed his lips for a moment and made several audible "hrrrms" and "ummms" before a grin spread across his face as he snapped to attention.

"John, Boxers of briefs?"

[FennWenn]

Truth be told, Fenn was mildly disappointed by the choice of game. For one, it didn't sound like the kind he could concretely win. For another, this seemed exceptionally easy. There was no task too ridiculous to try and no secret so embarrassing as to keep to oneself - now that he knew they weren't apt to turn him in or anything, that was. Still, he thought with a toothy grin, this ought to be interesting.

“Truth,” John said confidently.

“John, boxers or briefs?”

Yaaawn, Fenn thought, mirroring his actions. Neither! Somehow, he had figured that the questions would be more intense than this. Out of the options of truth or dare, truth struck him as the most dangerous. Not that I normally get the chance to play these kinds of games. Maybe it'll get more interesting as we go along.

"I box sometimes in the citadel, but what is briefs?" the big man replied, a look of confusion on his face. Fenn bit back a laugh; poor John did not get the question.

As Vince pondered this answer, Fenn reached for his Dew, only to realize that he'd finished it off already. Hrmmm. A sidelong glance was had at Vince’s cinnamon whiskey. While the other two were focused on each other, he quietly reached for it and slid it towards himself. A deep sip was had - not bad! - before he scooted it back to where it was before. It was no different except for a dusting of frost. And, of course, the fact that it was lighter than before.

[Cards of Fate]

“It’s a type of underwear.” Vincent replied sighing as he returned his gaze to his bottle only to find it pilfered. With a large portion of missing alcohol, and a mighty fine dusting of frost over the bottle, Vincent found himself giving the young ice child one of his famous chiding glances. It wasn’t a normal expression he used, given the fact that he was not often in a position to be so…parental. Instead, it was a look he had mastered from his predecessor Leona Stevvains. The woman had been a master of non-verbal scolding, and back in the day Vincent had found himself at the brunt of a lot of her withering glances.

Needless to say, this particular glance was blistering.

“Mine.” He grunted as he flicked the bottle. Sparks engulfed it and scattered as the bottle was nowhere left to be seen. Satisfied with his lightshow, the scholar turned back to the giant. “Your turn now.” He said cracking his neck. “You pick someone and ask them truth or dare.”

[redford]

John reached back after answering his question, already readying one of his own for the scholar, when the time came. For now, though he would be asking the tiny boy on his left. As he reached, a tiny flash of blue snatched it from existence, and John turned his not inconsiderable glare to Vincent, who looked back and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"What? He was drinking some!"

John's gaze went unabated until Vincent snapped his fingers, appearing the bottle in his slightly open hand. He began to tilt it back as Vincent spoke again.

"FINE. But if that child gets drunk it's your fault."

John sipped the bottle, keeping it in his hand as he looked back at the boy. He had been suspecting for a moment, now was the time to test his theory.

"Boy, truth or dare?"

The boy looked up in confusion before cracking a mischievous little grin, planting a palm on the table and spelling TRUTH with ice crystals.

John smirked, asking without hesitation.

"How old are you, Ice Child?"

More frost appeared as the boy's eyes matched his grin.

THIRTY, MAYBE. NOT SURE

John laughed, deep and throaty, and took another gulp of the bottle, leaving an inch or two for him. He slid the bottle, disturbing the frost atop the table, to the boy's awaiting hands.

"That's older than you, Vincent!" He said, his laugh fading into a chuckle.

[FennWenn]

It was tempting to answer with EIGHT as the boy sometimes did to folk he didn't know well. But, he was finding himself to enjoy the company of the two men. If he had told them about him thievery, and if they were alright with that, then he supposed there was no harm in discussing his age. The results tickled his humor.

It was rare that he recalled that thirty was actually older than many younger folk around him.

A shy grey flush tinged the tips of Fenn’s ears as he glanced over at Vincent, who didn't seem terribly surprised at the revelation, but was perhaps a pinch flustered. True age rarely affected the way others would treat him. Some stopped addressing him as a child once they understood how old he was, but many couldn't quite shake the habit. That was ordinary enough, he supposed; it was easy to think that what you saw was what you got.

Fenn gave Vince a smug not-quite-a-smirk as he reached for the bottle John offered. Too knowing to be childish, too immature to be anything but. Perhaps his feelings were still a little salty regarding the initial outburst over the whiskey.

What remained inside the bottle was a paltry amount compared to what it normally held; it took far more than that to make the little Fae loopy. He took a small sip as his free hand scrawled more words on the table.

TRUTH OR DARE VINCENT.

“Dare.”

Fenn bit at a rough fingernail, mulling over his reply. DO A SILLY SONG AND DANCE.

[Cards of Fate]

“Oh for fucks sake.” Vince growled as he took a swig of his whiskey. “You’re on kid.” He paused for a moment to pick out his song, rubbing his chin. Suddenly the perfect song popped into his head, something from a relatively popular youtuber who used to sing his own songs.

“So this one goes back to my time on another planet, but I think you guys will enjoy it…” he exclaimed with a flourish as he stepped away and got some space to dance. He took a deep breath and began…
“Something strange about that girl
The way she walks, the way she talks
It's like she doesn't realize
Could it be that she's a zombie?
Must be mistaken,
'Cause I can see the life in her eyes”…

As he started to sing he stood deathly still, clearly this was the ballad part of the song, and required the singer to be relatively still so he could hit all of the notes clearly.

“…It's a shame that she don't notice
Can't wear a thing like that
When you're in your twenties
She just carries on calmly
Sippin' on that cup from Wendy's

Suddenly it strikes me
What if no one's told her?
What if no one's asked the question,
What if no one's polled her?
So I scream out,
What's that PS2 doing on your head?
And this is what she said…?”

As he sang more he began to build up some momentum. Taking a few liberties with the pacing of the song, his voice growing steadily louder, his pace slowly picking up until finally it seemed to peak. It was at this moment, as he hit the impact, the dance started.

“What the fuck did you just fuckin' say about me, you little bitch?
I'll have you know I graduated top of my class
In the Navy SEALs
I have over 300 confirmed kills and I'm trained in guerrilla warfare
What's gotten into you?
I don't see no PS2

No seriously, what PS2?
What? Is something there? What PS2?”

It was as if scholar’s entire body had turned into over cooked spaghetti, his arms and legs flailing and gyrating like he was having some sort of strange seizure, or if he was some sort of rich guy who died and had his two retainers ragdolling his body around so they could “party” with him for a weekend. Scholar’s would later muse over the meaning of this dance after hearing tale of its majesty. When he was done, the scholar, panting, turned to the two of them and grinned.

“Satisifed?”

[FennWenn]

SATISFIED. Seeing Vincent "dance" -- if you could even call it that -- brought a pleased smirk to Fenn's face. Dancing happened to be one of the boy's areas of expertise alongside petty thievery and generally making a nuisance of himself. It seemed that Vincent's attempt at cutting a rug left every other rug to witness scarred for life. YOU DANCE TERRIBLE. VERY TERRIBLE. BUT WHAT IS A PISSTU?

The winded scholar nearly spat out his sip of whiskey. "A PS2? It's a... machine. We use it to play games back on Earth," he said thoughtfully, perhaps trying to come up with a better explanation for his explanation. "I don't think Althanas has a proper equivalent to it."

Fenn tilted his head to the side, frowning. WHAT IS AN EARTH? WHAT GAMES IT PLAY? WHY DO YOU ONLY MAKE MORE QUESTIONS??? he scrawled with a huff.

"Why do you ask so many in the first place?" Vincent ribbed him back with a grin.

The kid had no reply for that. Except, that was, to stick out his tongue and scoff. QUESTIONS ARE GOOD! UNLIKE YOUR DANCING. YOUR DANCING TERRIBLE.

"I think I understood that the first time, thank you."

[redford]

"The boy's right, you know," John quipped, wagging a finger at Vincent.

"Your dancing is pretty bad."

He turned to Fennik, and brandished the digit at him instead.

"And YOU, stop encouraging him with all his earth-speak. It's all strange words and difficult foods over there anyways."

The half-giant smirked. The evening had taken a strange turn for sure, but not quite an unpleasant one. He wondered what the boy would do when the evening wound down. It was an hour's walk back into the city from his house. He'd be hungry in the morning too, and walking back was easier in the daytime. Set upon putting the boy up for the night, he turned his attention to more frivolity.

"Who's turn is it? I was thinking."