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[braveoff]

@drake.holloway | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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[requiemshark]

That's a challenge.

[ Ephemera brightens. He likes challenges. Especially when he's drunk. ]

Poker. Oh, yeah.

[braveoff]

Buddy, you have no idea what you're up against.

[ It's a good thing they're not betting anything. ]

Okay. How does this work?

[requiemshark]

Show me, [ Ephemera challenges, and pulls up a net search with his implant for a deck, projecting the results into the room.. This is a great idea. ] 's not the same, but, you know. Gotta make do.

[braveoff]

This'll be weird, but okay. Deal?

[ Unless he has to pull up his own and they'll be working with a random generator of some sort... he's possibly too drunk to figure out the details so hopes Ephemera knows what he's doing. ]

[requiemshark]

[ Even though he's not very good at poker, Ephemera's played it enough times that he can deal without fucking it up. The app he picked doesn't deal automatically. Maybe it feels more authentic this way, though there's something about the feel of physical cards that Ephemera misses and feels can't be replicated.

But that's all right. The moment's a good one, and he leans back into the couch with a faint smile. ]

Cool. Show me what you've got.

[braveoff]

[ One last knowing smile, and then Drake puts on his pokerface. He's utterly unreadable, expression just generally pleasant but giving nothing away whether he's winning or losing. It would probably be infuriating if they weren't drunk, but that also makes it more impressive. He doesn't always win, but he's a stone wall that only cracks after the hand is played.

Another win pulls him further ahead, and he immediately breaks into another grin. ]

You can't say I didn't warn you.

[requiemshark]

You did, [ Ephemera agrees, leaning his head against the couch a little. The alcohol's kicked in strong and he isn't fighting it. The warmth and the heaviness. It's all good, it keeps his brain from spiraling out. ] You could, uh. Could make money on this.

[braveoff]

That would require me having money to bet. [ Drake points it out lazily, feeling relaxed and content himself. ] What were we playing for, anyway?

[requiemshark]

[ Those are details. Ephemera waves his hand vaguely. ]

Don't remember. Was there anything?

[ Maybe? That's okay. It probably wasn't important. ]

[braveoff]

I don't think so. But we could make something up now that I've won.

[ He's a happy drunk, leave him alone. ]

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera huffs a little, grinning. He was right, this could be fun. This could be good. ]

Yeah? What'd you want?

[braveoff]

I want...

[ Drake draws out the vowels in the words, making a show of thinking... he could ask for something fun, but everything that comes to mind is probably a bad idea. Then it occurs to him. ]

...for you to tell me what's wrong that you called me here to drink at 4am. Or you can take a dare instead.

[ It's a weak joke, but it's there. ]

[requiemshark]

That...

[ Ephemera blinks, smile fading. But he rallies quickly, shaking himself, and starts hunting for the bottle. ]

Had alcohol. You were up.

[ It's a weak dodge and he knows it, even when he's this drunk. ]

I'll take the. The dare, anyway. Live dangerously.

[braveoff]

[ Bottle's empty, buddy. But okay, Drake asked and gave an out and he took the out. He's not up for it right now, that's fine. ]

You'll tell me when you're ready. And now I guess we're playing truth or dare. Uhhhh... asking you to do anything physical would probably result in injury right now, huh? Lemme think.

[requiemshark]

You don't need to worry about that, [ Ephemera assures him, locating the bottle and lifting it up to reveal that it's empty. Apparently they finished it. He doesn't quite remember, but that's okay. ] Dares are good. I can do....

[ He pauses. What can he do that won't get one of them accidentally punched in the head? ]

Stuff. I'm very good at stuff.

[braveoff]

You're very good at lots of stuff but most of it requires coordination. Neither of us has that right now.

[ He's pretty sure he'd topple over if he just tried to stand up right now. Hmm. ]

I want to see you paint something totally drunk. Use your power if you want.

[requiemshark]

Oh. I can....I can do that.

[ Sure. That's nice. He was even painting earlier, up on the walls. He really ought to cover what he did there, splash black over it and start again from nothing, but that's a distant thought. He doesn't go there.

Ephemera rests his head against the couch for a moment, wondering if he ought to get up and fetch something to paint on, but —

Ah. Bottle.

He hums to himself, turning it over in his hands. The glass is smooth enough. That'll work. So he exhales slow and focuses, and the blue glow comes and does its thing.

Ink spreads from his hands, spidering out. The drawing starts out simple but the more Ephemera stares at the more detail he adds, even though it's small, and he hums to himself again just once, pleased.

It takes a bit, but he holds it out when he's done. ]

Gotcha.

[ His expression is fond. Drake is easy to be around, solid and easy, and Ephemera feels relaxed around him in a way he very rarely does around anyone. It feels natural to draw him. The image is in profile, Drake leaning back, his smile inviting. It has the sort of detail that comes from examining another person closely and it doesn't occur to Ephemera until after he's done it that that might be —something. He did it almost from memory, like he draws most things. Didn't look up to check his work until after it was done. ]

[braveoff]

[ Drake was expecting something small and sloppy, but supposes he should have known better. Even drunk Ephemera is meticulous about getting the image right, and when he holds it out... it's beautiful. And it's of him, which he also didn't expect. Not from this Ephemera. His breath catches in his throat and he can feel his eyes burning because it looks just like the portraits in the other man's sketchbook and that doesn't mean much besides that he's observant but.

He clears his throat and tries to look like he isn't about to bawl, because he's a happy drunk goddamnit. This just. Hit hard. He sounds a little choked up but manages not to have to flee to the bathroom, smiling instead. Hopefully Ephemera won't notice the way his eyes are shining. ]

How'd you still get it perfect after half a bottle of jet fuel? Can I keep this?

[ And since they're apparently playing truth or dare now... ]

Oh, and... your turn, I guess.

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera tips his head to the side. The room is starting to swim, edges and colors blending into each other, but there's a moment where Drake's breathing changes slightly, catching in his throat, and that—

That means something, doesn't it?

Drake smiles again, just like before, like it's okay again, but Ephemera just watches him for a moment. Wondering. ]

I'm talented like that. And. Yeah, you can keep it.

[ He waves his hand vaguely. ]

....you okay?

[braveoff]

[ Goddamnit. Drake nods, setting the bottle carefully back down on the coffee table so he doesn't drop it and break it. ]

I'm good. Just gonna use your bathroom real quick. Think up a dare for me while I'm gone.

[ Is Ephemera drunk enough not to notice that Drake lingers a little, and there's no toilet flush? He just washes his face and gives himself a 'pull it together' look in the mirror, coming out a little more put together. ]

Alright, hit me.

[requiemshark]

[ Oh. That's. That's something.

Ephemera nods slowly, watching Drake go. It's hard to focus on anything for longer than a second or two, but he doesn't like how Drake had gone sad. Even if it was just for a moment. This was supposed to be good. A distraction. Maybe just for him, but now he figures Drake ought to have one too. Something easy because this place isn't. It's not a war zone, no, but it isn't simple either.

Unfortunately, his drunken brain is having trouble connecting one idea to the other. He's squinting at the bottle when Drake comes back, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do now.

A dare. Right.

Ephemera stares at Drake for a good three seconds. ]

.....huh. I'm really drunk.

[ He's vaguely surprised by that, though he has no right to be. ]

Tell me some Earth dares. Most of mine are.... [ He waves his hand again. ] Space related.

[braveoff]

We're both completely wasted, yup. The hell was that stuff?

[ Drake collapses back to the couch, slouching so his head can rest on the top of the cushions. Oof. Things are spinning a little when he turns to look at Ephemera. ]

...not gonna lie, most Earth dares are racy.

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera pauses, trying to remember. ]

It's. Green.

[ The green stuff. Yep. It's probably got a name but he can't remember it.

Ephemera rests his head against the couch for a moment, blinking at Drake. ]

Yeah? Hit me. I like racy.

[ Well. He used to. Not so much anymore. ]

[braveoff]

Usually you're playing with a group, so... stuff that's fun to watch. You tell two people to make out, or convince someone to streak, or give the person next to them a lap dance. Not great when there's no audience.

[ Except when he's this drunk it seems like a good idea anyway. It's not, the few brain cells still functioning tell him, but it seems like it. ]

Maybe we should stick to truth for now.

[requiemshark]

[ Ephemera nods sagely. He's done similar things with other soldiers, other mercs. Strangers. Lots of people. No one since he got tossed in here, though. ]

I was. Very good. At lap dances.

[ Sort of. He had enthusiasm and a willingness to flirt with everyone who so much as smiled at him. But that was the old days, and not here, and there's a part of Ephemera's brain — even soaked in alcohol — that remembers he stopped. That he hasn't done that in a long time, that it would probably go wrong if he pushed too hard. He very rarely touches anyone and Drake —

Drake is nice and good and doesn't deserve to deal with that shit. ]