Video

[anewlanguage]

You know, Dean? Dean, you might be right. Maybe half right.

[Some six hours after Barbara's post, Cain is completely stinking drunk. But he's also feeling more sociable, and between swigs or statements he hums a song, occasionally mumbling the lyrics.]

...Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine...

I'm not rethinking stopping being a pacifist, but I oughta say I'm feeling like doing target practice, and the boat's not real steady under my feet, you get what I mean. So hurry on down, clear out my gun cache.

Knives, too.

[He takes a healthy swallow from the bottle.]

dreadful sorry, Clementine...

[The feed cuts about halfway through that chorus

Comments

private

[rickitikitarr]

I'll take 'em, any of em. I'll even take them on loan, until you're ready for them again. You have nice weapons, they should go to someone who'll be good to them. I'll even just take them until the morning, if this is a matter of sobering up.

[He doesn't mind either way.]

private

[anewlanguage]

Hey, you, I was hoping you'd want one. Or four.

[As for the matter of this being an overnight thing, he shakes his head, drinks deeply]

You remember what I said, about my kid? Well if you ever wonder, is it better to have 'em around and hating you, or to have 'em permanently dead, I'll tell you. Actually I won't. Cause I bet you can guess which way is better.

private

[rickitikitarr]

Yeah.

[He says, shortly, thinking of Danny back home.]

I'm on my way for the pick up. Are you drinking at home, or upstairs?

Re: private

[anewlanguage]

Home. Best place for it. C'mon up, my door's open.

private

[rickitikitarr]

What's your room number?

[He's already walking.]

private

[anewlanguage]

Four, one. Level four. Room one.

[He had to get up and look at his door to be sure of this.]

private

[rickitikitarr]

[Ricki shows up, with a bag of food from the cafeteria in one outstretched hand.]

Pour me a cup, if you've anything left?

[spam][just a one-tag threadjack]

[routemistress]

Sweetheart. Aye, there's always plenty. Sometimes we even use glasses.

[Admittedly, they mostly don't; but she hands him a glass and kisses his cheek by way of greeting.]

I must love you and leave you, Ricki love, I've got some silicate samples overcooking up in the lab. Don't do owt I wouldn't do, you two.

[It sounds like a throwaway comment, and Iris smiles as she says it and doesn't look at all worried; there's just a flash of brief, wordless anxiety in the look she gives Ricki on her way out. Don't let him do anything stupid.]

private

[anewlanguage]

[He watches Iris go, smiling a bit, but he's nearly always smiling. He pours Ricki some pretty decent whisky, puts it in a coffee mug, hands it to him. Well, tries to; his aim is more toward Ricki's leg than his hand.]

You're about the only newcomer who's dropped by.