Charles (Orc) Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paidinbeer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-12-14 09:32 am
paidinbeer) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-14 09:32 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Orc and you
What: Drinking to forget and failing
Where: The Bar in the Training Center (With special bonus thread set in his room later)
When: During the finale of the Arena
Warnings: Well he's a suicidal, depressed, short tempered drunk 15 year old boy trapped in a rock monster's body. I'm sure something will come up.
The bartenders and serving staff had gotten used to Orc over time. They knew if they kept the booze flowing and put him in a dark corner somewhere he would keep quiet...mostly. And the other customers wouldn't be as bothered by any rude sounds he made or if he was disgustingly slopping drink on himself or mashing food into his maw like a pig.
Orc had gotten used to the bartenders and serving staff. He knew that if he kept quiet and didn't shout they would keep bringing him drinks and not tell his handlers to get him out of the bar.
It was a semi-functional relationship that allowed Orc to try and numb every last feeling he had with alcohol and food.
That part was not as functional.
Part of the problem was there was a TV facing him. Normally the staff was smart enough to change the channel but today they had forgotten and he was watching the coverage of the games, complete with some of their top 10 kills so far.
His death at the point of Ellie's spear was number five.
Then there was the hot topic of who was dating who, some woman in a suit that looked like it was made from those fancy Christmas flowers...whatever they were called, was commenting on the possibility of Orc and...Eponine?!
"What the hell does Porcupine mean?" He muttered as the word was pasted under a picture of the two of them drinking together in the arena.
What: Drinking to forget and failing
Where: The Bar in the Training Center (With special bonus thread set in his room later)
When: During the finale of the Arena
Warnings: Well he's a suicidal, depressed, short tempered drunk 15 year old boy trapped in a rock monster's body. I'm sure something will come up.
The bartenders and serving staff had gotten used to Orc over time. They knew if they kept the booze flowing and put him in a dark corner somewhere he would keep quiet...mostly. And the other customers wouldn't be as bothered by any rude sounds he made or if he was disgustingly slopping drink on himself or mashing food into his maw like a pig.
Orc had gotten used to the bartenders and serving staff. He knew that if he kept quiet and didn't shout they would keep bringing him drinks and not tell his handlers to get him out of the bar.
It was a semi-functional relationship that allowed Orc to try and numb every last feeling he had with alcohol and food.
That part was not as functional.
Part of the problem was there was a TV facing him. Normally the staff was smart enough to change the channel but today they had forgotten and he was watching the coverage of the games, complete with some of their top 10 kills so far.
His death at the point of Ellie's spear was number five.
Then there was the hot topic of who was dating who, some woman in a suit that looked like it was made from those fancy Christmas flowers...whatever they were called, was commenting on the possibility of Orc and...Eponine?!
"What the hell does Porcupine mean?" He muttered as the word was pasted under a picture of the two of them drinking together in the arena.
no subject
no subject
"The last thing I wanna think about is what you do when your naked." He tried to brush it off with a weak joke. But joking was not high in Orc's skill set so it betrayed how uncomfortable he was talking about sex when he was sober.
It made him feel like his mom was watching them disapprovingly.
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no subject
Heaving a deep breath he let it out through his nose and closed his eyes once more. They were in another universe entirely, sleeping on a custom made bedframe that could support his massive body, with sheets that contained a thread count higher then Orc could count.
But in some small way it was starting to feel like home again.
"Goodnight Howard."
no subject