2nd Drunkard: Larten Crepsley
"And then, yer not gonna believe this: she said she loved me! Who in the world would love me?"
A drunk Larten Crepsley was explaining his situation to a not-as-drunk Paris. Paris was only a tiny bit drunk but not enough to make him as big a fool as Larten. He tried to talk with a sober tongue.
"Women are unpredictable, aye?" Paris asked, taking a sip of wine.
"Aye!" Larten boomed. "Why love me of all people? What have I done that is so wonderful that it would make a woman fall in love with me? It makes no sense!"
Paris simply nodded his head and expected to hear out Larten's drunken rant.
"It should've at least been Arra!" Larten declared.
Paris froze. Was Larten admitting his feelings for another woman?
"At least she is not a child! And she is far prettier. The one woman that Quicksilver cannot have is the one woman that Quicksilver wants!" Larten hissed, banging his fist on the table. "But this child—this little girl—I have no such feelings for." Before Paris could say anything, Larten ordered more ale. Paris sighed. He really did wish to get himself so drunk that by morning, he wouldn't be able to remember that this day ever happened.
Soon enough, after a few more mugs of ale (the bartender wouldn't allow people to drink from barrels of it), Larten was sitting at the opposite end of the bar on a giant red couch, surrounded by ladies. He was drunker than ever, but the ladies didn't seem to mind.
"I am the great Quicksilver and Quicksilver shall not belong to any woman!" he cried, getting the attention from the ladies. "No woman will be able to keep Quicksilver all to herself!" He smirked and added, "Quicksilver lives to please the ladies."
Scooping one of the prettiest girls on the couch up with his arms, he carried her like a man carries his bride and put her on one of the larger tables. Then, he hopped up onto the table and offered the woman his hand. "May I have this—hic!—dance?" Larten said, trying to control his hiccups. The woman laughed, seeing how drunk he was, but took his hand anyway. They slow-danced all across the table, kicking anything that was on it: food, mugs, wine glasses. Larten swayed uneasily from side to side, trying not to fall off the table. The woman was beaming either because she was dancing with the famous Quicksilver or maybe because she thought it was funny how incredibly drunk he was.
Picking a rose from a flower vase on the table, he put it in his mouth and smirked at his temporary dance partner. Then, he mumbled seductively, "If you can take this rose from me, you get a special prize."
Paris chuckled to himself. Best to leave "Quicksilver" to his business, then, he thought.