One stormy day, Albion's queen and ruler sat in her throne room across from her significant other and next to her trusty man in uniform, a bottle placed between them.
"Your turn," smiled Blade, indicating Forge.
"I can't believe you're making me do this," complained Forge.
"Oh, quit whining. It'll be over before you know it," Ben piped up.
Forge took a deep breath and reached toward the bottle in the middle. With a turn, he spun it. The bottle spun a few times, then stopped.
"What now?" asked Forge, following the nozzle of the bottle. "It's not pointing at anyone."
"Spin it again," commanded Blade.
Forge shrugged, but did as he was told, silently praying that it wouldn't land on the freckled officer. He spun the bottle a couple more times before the nozzle finally pointed at ... himself.
Forge picked up a mirror placed next to him. He looked at his reflection; his askew hair, his blue-grey eyes, his straight, uniform nose.
"Do I have to?" he asked, uncertain.
"Kiss it - like you're kissing your sister," answered Blade.
Forge scrunched up his nose in disgust. He studied his reflection once more.
"I said kiss it!" Blade ordered, impatiently.
Forge shot a look at her, but reluctantly obliged. Blade applauded with hoots, cheers, and claps.
"That's nasty," Forge said after a moment. "this is the entire game?!"
"It can be fun!" Ben blurted out, "With a large party..."
"Heaven forbid," Forge said.
Blade grinned at them. "Ben," she said.
Ben grinned from ear to ear, spinning the bottle with a fierce turn. It spun, then landed on … Forge.
"Keep your paws off me," the blacksmith glared at him. Meanwhile, Ben made a face.
"The bottle has spoken!" Blade argued.
Both men glanced at her, then at each other, before gagging.
"Oh, pooh. You guys are no fun," Blade whined. "Reaver would humor me."
"That's because Reaver has absolutely no shame," said Forge. "Blade, you've convinced two -hopefully- heterosexual men to play Spin-the-Bottle with you."
Ben nodded and added, "no one knows what Reaver is."
Forge agreed, "not even Reaver knows what Reaver is."
Blade sighed, clearly disappointed. "Don't do that," Forge said. Blade only sighed louder. "Hey, stop that," Forge frowned. He looked at Blade, who pouted. Forge gave her a pleading look, hoping to appeal to her better nature. Blade batted her puppy-dog eyes at him. Then again, what better nature? Forge frowned. Why -of all people- was he stuck with the most stubborn in all of Albion?
"Ben, come on, let's get this over with," Forge said.
Ben stared at him, jaw-dropped. He looked from Forge to Blade, who continued to pout. "But-..." Ben bit his lip, looking from the two, before giving in. "How do you want to play it?"
"Quick and painless," Forge sighed. Ben agreed.
As the two men slowly leaned toward each other and Blade beamed with delight… Jasper entered the room.
"Master Blade-" he started to address the queen, before spying the soldier and the blacksmith. For a moment, the scene froze. Ben and Forge stopped pursuing each other, Blade glared at Jasper for interrupting, and Jasper remained wide-eyed and open-mouthed. "Never mind…" he said, exiting the room and shaking his head.
The scene began to resume. Ben and Forge studied each other before both falling backward, wiping their tongues as though to clean their filthy mouths and cringing at the thought of what could of happened. Blade shouted at the door, "darn it, Jasper!"
At some point, Reaver discovered the group and joined the game. Ben left for a round to find and convince Page to join -since they were running short on female players and no one dared to land on Reaver-, then Logan entered the room -in search of Blade- and, after realizing what game they were playing, demanded to join as well. Most of the players were cautious about the new addition, but the queen -jovial already- brightened at the sight of him.
"Logan! These fools are inexperienced! I'd say they need professional help!" Blade beckoned her brother to sit down.
"Fools?!" Ben retorted.
"Inexperienced?!" asked Reaver with disbelief.
"Professional help?!" said Forge. After contemplating this for a moment, he shrugged and admitted, "ehhh, granted that's true, but hey!"
Logan grinned and cracked his knuckles, then his neck. "Watch and learn."
Logan leaned over to spin the bottle. The bottle spun and spun and spun until finally landing on... Page. Both stared in shock.
"There must be a mistake," said Page.
"The bottle has spoken!" declared Blade.
Logan just stared at the nozzle.
"It's not going to move telepathically," Reaver pointed out.
"Shut up, Ben!" yelled an enraged Page at a guffawing Ben.
"That's pretty ironic, right there," said Ben between laughs. "The one person you hate most in this room and that's who it lands on." Ben started laughing harder, tears ran down his face.
"Actually, I am sort of relieved," Page said, thoughtfully.
"Why?" Forge wondered.
"I'm surprised I haven't gotten Reaver," Page admitted, earning a glare from the thief.
"I don't think anyone has," Blade chimed in.
"Do I have to?" whined Logan, taking his eyes off the-bottle-of-destiny.
"Yes, the bottle has spoken," answered Blade.
Page and Logan glared at each other.
"How long does it have to be?" Logan asked, throwing up a little.
"7 minutes!" demanded Blade, "ooh! I know another game we have to try!"
"No!" almost the entire group yelled at her -with the exception of Reaver, who shouted "yes!" then winked at her.
"Ten seconds?" Logan asked.
"Five!" disagreed Page.
"How in depth?" was Logan's next question.
"Make out!" Ben exclaimed.
This extracted a cringe from both Page and Logan.
"A peck?" suggested Logan.
"Not even that," argued Page.
"Come on, already!" frowned Ben.
"Follow my lead," Logan ordered.
"Why always your lead?" Page glared at him. "Look where that got us last time; in the hands of your sister!"
Logan rolled his eyes as Blade shouted behind him at Page. "Fine, your lead," he said.
Page nodded. She leaned forward a tiny bit, before hesitating. Logan studied the nervousness on her face, mixed with something else... hatred? He tried to ignore it as he leaned toward her, tilting his head slightly. There was an awkward pause. Page pursed her lips, closing her eyes. Logan lingered, then -against his own will- he closed the gap, which took Page by surprise.
One and one thousand.
Two and one thousand.
Three and one thou-.
Page broke the kiss, causing the other players to boo in disappointment.
"Only three seconds," said Ben, tsking.
"Aw," said Blade. "Page, it's your turn."
"Thank goodness," muttered Page.
She spun the bottle. Glancing around the room, she wondered who it would land on. After a few spins, it finally landed on... Reaver.
"What?!" Page shouted. Glaring at the laughing soldier beside her, she grumbled, "This game is rigged!"
Reaver wiggled his eyebrows at her.
"There's no way I'm kissing two roaches in a single day!" Page shook her head.
"The bottle has spoken!" declared Blade.
"Trust me, dear. You'll enjoy it; everyone always does," said Reaver with a wink.
"No! I'm out!" Page stood up and exited the room.
"No fun," Blade singsonged.
"It's your turn," said a disappointed Ben to the queen.
Blade spun the bottle. She watched it, her heart racing.
Please don't land on...
Please don't land on...
Please don't land on...
The bottle gradually slowed to a stop. Blade followed the nozzle of the bottle to see... a smiling deviant staring back at her.
"It must be my lucky day!" exclaimed an excited Reaver.
"Gag me with a spoon," Blade said, instantaneously. "Page was right; this game is rigged!"
She bolted out the door with an eager Reaver trailing her, shouting, "the bottle has spoken!"