Let's have a toast for the assholes

[richpeopleproblems]

Who| Murdoc (The disctrict 4 escort) and YOOOOooooUuuuuu
What| Murdoc is new to the whole escort thing, drinking sounds like a good idea.
Where| Wherever drinking can be done
When| Backdated prior to the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| None yet, but there's always the potential.

So, things hadn't gotten off to the blindingly brilliant start Murdoc had pictured. Sybille's district had emerged victorious and it was enough to break his spoilt heart. While he's certainly disappointed, he refuses to be dejected about it. Sulking isn't his style, he tells himself as he orders yet another drink. As usual, he's impeccably dressed for no real occasion. He's really not doing much other than babbling at the bartender about the endless possibilities and potential district 4 has.

Of course, the bartender could probably care less. Murdoc is eager to reel in surrounding patrons with the offer of a drink provided generously by him. On the condition that they are, of course, willing to discuss the finer details of the upcoming arena and the other tributes AND are open to suggestions as far as drinks go. In his good opinion, a drink tastes better when it's several years older than you, but it doesn't hurt to buy one that matches your outfit.

If you happen to have a colour coded drink sliding your way, don't be too surprised. At the very least, Murdoc is terrible at being nonchalant. He won't say anything, but he'll keep looking over to make sure it's been noticed. Praise him, damn it.

Comments

[shambler]

The applause jerks R's hand in surprise - the drink sloshes out over the glasses's edges, very expensive - and right across the counter. Some of it even hits R's lap. The zombie doesn't seem to notice, his head lolling around to stare without blinking at Murdoc. Was he surprised he can speak? Or did he make that much of an...impression in the Arena? The wrong kind? Mouthful of blood? R gives Murdoc the undead version of the deer-in-the-headlight look.

"Thank...you," R tries the drink out, rolls it around in his mouth as some of it drips down his chin, and it's ashes on his tongue like everything else. "You're...Murdoc? Helping...us?"

He's still trying to establish if Murdoc's a friend or not - if he can ask him to ask that other Escort to stop spraying him in the face with perfume. She might take it more seriously coming from someone like The New Guy.

[richpeopleproblems]

Murdoc laments the waste of a drink, but the expense isn't much of a bother to him. It's almost worth it for the brief glimmer of amusement it gives him. He really shouldn't be laughing over spilt drink, but he's just tipsy enough to let a chuckle slip. If there's one thing Murdoc finds impressive about R, it's his seemingly natural ability to entertain. Whether it's intentional really isn't important to him.

He raises his glass at R as a silent appreciation for the thanks he's given, taking another sip as if he really needs to consider the answer to that. "Correct on both counts. You're as sharp as they say you are, R." And in that moment, he could have sworn he was a pirate. "It's a pleasure to meet you." He adds, almost as an after thought.

Really, R. If you want to make a request it's best to do so when Murdoc is situated in front of a drink.

[shambler]

Did he say something funny? R levels one of those stares at Murdoc, a desaturated silver that has a total lack of blinking. Whatever eye color he used to have, it's been drained to a gray that's the color of a polluted puddle, a mirror scuffed to the point of no return. He thinks he might even be flattered - he really thought he was sharp?

All he knows is it's not the drink that makes him chime up. It settles in his stomach where it'll sit there for who knows how long. R's mouth purses behind the muzzle as his eyes settle on a point around Murdoc's hairline, perfectly maintained, healthy. He licks his lips, eyes drooping back down to his face.

"Hope...you're...easier than...her," R hopes it's clear who She is. The District 4 escort who keeps dowsing him with perfume and setting him up on non-Julie dates. Her. R groans unhappily.