A/N: I (Regal-niichan) hereby declare that I do not own any of the characters in this story, and that Namco does.
This is a one-shot story only for a bit of entertainment. So please, if you have to ask me for another chapter give me a drinking pair you would like to see have a showdown
Lloyd point of view.
The Drinking Game
My father was staring at me from directly across the table, I was twenty-five by now and had been finally allowed into Meltokio's more rowdy pubs… even with the red suit that these people for some reason so vehemently despised, although I cannot be so sure as to why they hate the color red but I believe it reminds them faintly of the desians, Ah yes here we are, father and son… son finally realizing just why his father is so well known in bars throughout Aselia simply for the title, and the glare that comes with it, The Angel of Death, or more recently known as The Harbinger of Dismay.
I could see it albeit was a slight drop of the most transparent bead, it was sweat, he was nervous I could smell it in my nostrils.
Ah here it is, the horn blowing, I raise the glass to my lips and drink, only to find that this particular shot is rather strong, he downed his with less than a sway in his chair and the horns sounded again, three this time, so we had to take in three shots, and so we did.
It felt like hours, though I knew it could only have been a few minutes of daylight and we were reaching the finally, neither of us have swayed yet but I knew that was about to change, I lost my count of how much we drank around shot number 128 and we were both swaying in our chairs but determined to stay upright and win over the other, then when no-one was expecting it Dirk my adopted father came out with his renowned Dwarven Potluck Surprise, a full tankard of the stuff, and of course due to the rules of observer requests we had to drink it all at the same time.
My vision was blurry and I was sure his was too but we drank and drank and drank, not wanting to be taken advantage of and let the other take the lead, if I do say so myself… it was an extremely valiant try but here I was, twenty-five year old against a four-thousand year old man, my systems couldn't handle all that liquor and I collapsed, barely conscious enough to note Kratos standing above me with a sneer on his face watching silently over the prone body of his son, Lloyd Irving.
A/N: Please please please review with criticism or praise and the like.