Shit. No. I don't.

Python shook his head, before tipping back and downing another quarter of a bottle of wine. He wouldn't feel anything, and he'd be too drunk to care about anything. He'd go numb and forget he cared about him. He's forget he cared about anything, which was just how he was supposed to be./p

The archer was nowhere to be found, even though Forsyth, Lukas and Clive, as well as other members of the Brotherhood of Knights, had all basically turned Valentia Castle completely upside down in search for him. Mathilda and Clair had gone outside in search of him, and so far every time they had reported back there was no sign of Python anywhere. The only place Forsyth had not looked, and was on his lonesome way to, was the wine cellar, which was seldom frequented by anybody nowadays. Forsyth made his way down to the bottom of the wine cellar stairs and could hear quiet, familiar grumbling from in-between the wine racks.

"Python?" the green-clad man called. A loud "uuuggghhh," was the only response he received, which lasted long enough for Forsyth to follow the voice and find a certain blue archer sitting amidst a pile of empty wine bottles and leaning against the wall, staring blankly ahead of him. "Python, by the Gods, what the hell are you doing here!?"

"Forsyth!" Python looked up, a long and sloppy grin on his face, "'bout time ya came down here!" his words were slurring heavily, and it was clear to Forsyth that the man was nearly blackout drunk on wine. "Why dontcha hit the bo'le with me?" He didn't even finish the word bottle. He skipped the t sound entirely, and let out a half-awake laugh.

"Python, my friend, you've had far too much to drink," Forsyth rolled his eyes, approaching his longtime friend, "come. I'm taking you to bed–"

"Take me to your bed."

"W-what!?" Forsyth stopped mid-step, "Python, what the actual hell!?"

"I wanna..." Python slurred, laughing quietly, "lie down wi'you. Cuddl'n sleep tight. Maybe nev'r wake up again, I dunno." He chuckled deeply, leaning forward and reaching a hand out towards Forsyth

He's so drunk... does he even have any idea what he's saying!? Forsyth thought, what he's saying is ridiculously unlike him! The knight approached his friend again, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. Forsyth slung Python's arm around his (Forsyth's) neck. "You're going to bed, Python, and you're going to sober up." Python only laughed yet again in response. Forsyth sighed and began making his way towards the wine cellar stairs.

During their trip up the stairs, drunk Python thought it a good idea to push all of his rag doll weight onto Forsyth, hindering his ability to go up the stairs at a decent pace. "Python, for the love of the Gods, straighten up!" Forsyth grumbled, "you're making this incredibly difficult!"

"Hhhha ha, hear that?" Python laughed, "my friend, you could stretch me along the straightest table and I'd still be curvier than that Leon bastard!"

At this point Forsyth was completely lost. What the hell was the drunken fool saying? It made no sense whatsoever! Curvier that Leon? What was that supposed to–oh.

It was an inebriated analogy to say that Python was probably gayer than Leon. How that was possible, Forsyth had no idea. But apparently it was.

"We'll talk about this after you wake up," Forsyth sighed. Hopefully nobody will see him like–

"Oh, Forsyth! You found him!

–this. Shit. At the top of the stairs stood Lukas, hands folded in front of him. He had a smile on his face, before he took a look at Python. "Forsyth, is he–"

"Drunk off his damn mind and spewing ridiculous nonsense about being curvier than Leon? Yes."

"What was that second part?"

"Ridiculous nonsense, Lukas. That's exactly what it was."

Forsyth ignored the odd eye that Lukas was giving him, and continued supporting his rag doll friend up the stairs. He passed Lukas by and simply said, "I'm bringing him up to one of the bedrooms, if either Alm or Celica ask for me."

"Oh, uh, of course, Forsyth," Lukas simply nodded and said in response. He watched Forsyth and Python turn the corner, and they were out of his sight.

The bedroom was empty, for which Forsyth was grateful. He laid Python in the soft bed, and the blue-haired man simply started to laugh. The knight rolled his eyes at his friend and sighed. "Get a good rest, Python; I don't doubt you'll have a screaming headache when you wake up."

"Stay wi'me."

Forsyth stopped in his tracks, as he was on his way out of the room. He turned back, seeing Python staring blankly in his direction. The archer's face was solemn, and his eyes drooping. "Don't wanna be alone. Stay here, 'Syth... don't leave me 'lone wi'all these stupid thoughts... c'mon, man... please..."

The knight sighed, and approached the bed again. "Alright, Python, I'll stay here with you. But you best get to sleep, you hear me?"

"Mhm... just... c'mere and hold me, dammit, I'm cold."

"You have blankets."

"Duma damn the blankets."

"Duma can't damn things anymore, he's dead."

"He is?"

"We helped Alm kill him."

"Oh."

As that whole exchange was going, Forsyth had made his way over the bed and sat down; Python's head was now in his lap, and he was rambling on about Mila only knew what. He would roll his head, look up at Forsyth every once in a while and grin lazily, to which Forsyth would softly return a smile. Python continued his rambling until he started sounding sleepy, after which he yawned and curled up. "'M glad you're here, 'Syth..." he mumbled, "'s nice to... not be alone. Like havin' you here wi'me."

Forsyth let out a quiet chuckle. "Go to sleep now, Python..."

There was no response; Python was now fast asleep, snoring in Forsyth's lap. His chest rose and fell at a slow and steady pace, and it was oddly comforting to watch. Forsyth leaned his head back against the headboard of the bed, his eyes trailing over to look out the window; a few birds flew by the window, and one stopped and perched itself on the windowsill. It chirped a few times, and Forsyth took his time to marvel in the sound. He'd never really taken the time to appreciate anything before the war had started, and he was now noticing the little things in life; the chirping of the birds outside, Python's slow breathing pattern—wait, why was he even thinking about that in the first place? Maybe it was just because they had never been in a situation like this before. It was a strange situation, too; a situation that brought up so many questions that he could think about now that he had the time. Python had said he was curvier than Leon, which meant that either a) he was a raging homosexual, or b) he had childbearing hips nicer that Leon's (Forsyth knew for a fact that Leon's hips were oddly effeminate, after accidentally walking in on him getting dressed once. It was extremely awkward for both of them).

Forsyth sighed to himself, his eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling. Time was ticking by slowly; for every inhale Python made, three seconds passed. The same could be said for every exhale; a total of four seconds for every breathing cycle. It was a calming pattern to watch, and it eased the thoughts in his mind; maybe he would just talk to Python about it after he was awake and well again.

Forsyth had fallen asleep while waiting for Python to awake, and as his eyes slowly creaked open he could see his blue-clad friend sitting on the edge of the bed, slouched over with his head in his hands. Forsyth could hear him mumbling to himself, and what he was saying was far from pleasing.

"Can't believe I said that... in front of him of all people, too... humiliating... fuck... gonna hate me now, probably... Gods almighty, can't do anything right sober or drunk, can I? Should just leave... won't come back to the castle... won't embarrass myself like that again..."

Forsyth shifted to an upright position (he must have slumped while asleep), worriedly eyeing his friend. Was Python aware of what he had said? It wasn't even that bad; at least Forsyth didn't think it was.

The green Knight decided to speak up, and he reached out and gently tapped Python's shoulder. "Python–"

"Don't talk to me while I'm wallowing in my own stupidity."

"You couldn't control what you said, Python, you were drunk off your mind."

Python glanced back at Forsyth, grumbling, "I wanted to pass out, not be dragged up to bed and end up rambling about things that shouldn't have seen the light."

"Yes, but Python," Forsyth scooted forwards, his legs now over the edge of the bed, "it doesn't bother me. You're still my best friend regardless, aren't you?"

"Syth, I really don't want to talk about it," Python simply brushed Forsyth's words off, "can we just forget about it?"

Forsyth sighed, and placed a reassuring hand on the archer's shoulder. "Alright. But just know you can–"

"Yeah, yeah, Forsyth, I know. Safe space and all that. Now can you go grab me some water or food or something? My head's killing me."

Forsyth smiled softly. "Of course, Python," he said. He stood up and exited the room, hearing his friend quietly groaning and grumbling to himself again. The green knight made his way down to where the provisions were kept; Python wouldn't feel so miserable after having a bite to eat. Then perhaps he'd be more willing to talk it out. Or not. It didn't matter to Forsyth, really; what mattered was that their relationship was maintained, and that Python was happy.