bar night
Fable II
Reaver, Sparrow, Garth, Hammer

"Must we?"

Sparrow flashed Reaver a reassuring grin, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "No worries mate, in and out."

The pirate sighed, watching defeated as Sparrow sauntered into the tavern. He was seriously considering waiting outside like a petulant child, but the crack of lightning overhead made up his mind for him.

Once inside, Reaver was assaulted by the smell of stale beer and dirty farmers, making him reconsider taking his chances out in the storm.

Oh how he hated Oakfield.

"Anoth-hic-nother round!"

He winced, eyes seeking out the giant woman in the gloom. She was occupying space near the bar, table covered in tankards and bottles, a mismatch group of people near her cheering her on. He could see Sparrow standing at her side, apparently attempting to get her up and out for the night.

And failing.

Hammer pushed the hero away, slurring a cheer as the bartender dropped off another round for her and her 'friends'.

With a sigh, Reaver plopped down at an unoccupied table. It was going to be another horrifically long night, one of many since he found himself a part of the ragtag group assembled by Sparrow and his blind dictator of a guardian.

"Blast…" Sparrow collapsed opposite him, weary gaze moving from Hammer to the bottle that had been shoved into his hands.

Catching his chin in his hand, Reaver gave Sparrow a sidelong glance. "In and out, hm?"

The gypsy stabbed a finger in his direction. "Don't even."

He watched his oh so classy companion tear the cork from the bottle with his teeth and take an ungodly large swig. "Why don't we cut our losses, find a cozy little room and wile away the time with something more enjoyable?"

Sparrow sighed, slumping further into his chair. "I don't think it's safe to leave her unsupervised. Last time I did, the bar caught fire and Theresa bitched for three hours."

He wrinkled his nose at the thought of listening to the old hag for more than three minutes, let alone three hours. True, he could leave, but his options were slim now that he was part of their little fugitive group. And truth be told, Sparrow was the only one he could stand to be around for more than short periods of time alone.

With a sigh, he motioned to the bottle in the gypsy's grip with his free hand. "If we are to be stuck here for the remainder of the night, the least you could do is share."

With a raised brow and a slight smirk, Sparrow slid the bottle across the table. "Cheers."

Xxxxxxxxx

"Ha, full house!"

Sparrow threw down the cards in his hand, sending a few skittering. Reaver scowled, tossing his own down in defeat. "Yes, yes, aren't you skilled. Now be a good boy and re-deal."

The gypsy gathered the cards to himself, shaking off a few that had managed to find their way into one of the many spills that had accumulated on their table. As per the rules of their game, Reaver poured himself another shot of the turpentine being sold as alcohol, downing it as fast as possible. This far in, and the stuff still tasted horrible.

Shuffling the deck and giggling like a child, Sparrow waggled his brows at the pirate, who very pointedly, and only with a little difficulty, took off his remaining boot. They both were running out of clothes to lose to their game, but neither cared much. Reaver was down to his trousers, Sparrow that plus a singular boot.

Neither knew, nor cared, where Hammer had gotten off to.

"Aite pirate, lessgo, round, eh, something…." Sparrow trailed off, squinting at the cards in his hand.

Reaver chuckled, although what was funny, he wasn't quite sure. The numbers on the cards were doing a merry little trot, making it hard for him to discern which was what, but after some intense squinting they complied with his whims.

Mostly.

"Damn."

Sparrow snickered. "Giving up so soon, oh great pirate king?"

He snorted, letting the cards become unfocused as he absently moved them about. "Heavens no. I'm merely declaring my distaste for your abysmal card dealing skills."

"Same thing that, ain't it?"

Shrugging, Reaver traded a few cards, his prospects looking only slightly better. But slightly was better than not, he supposed. "Two pair."

Sparrow took a moment to squint at his opponents cards before dropping his own with a devilish grin. "Three of a kind!"

"Are you sure you're not cheating, Sparrow love?"

The gypsy slumped onto the table. "I can barely see the cards well enough to read them, let alone cheat." He pushed the last bottle towards the pirate with his index finger, distracting both of them with the noise it made as it scraped along the wood.

A put upon sigh and Reaver downed another shot, making a face as the liquid hit his stomach. "I'm surprised either of us can see at all, the amount of kerosene we've ingested." He pushed the bottle back to the table's center.

"S'not kerosene. I think." Sparrow squinted at the bottle label.

"Semantics."

Sparrow glanced absently at Reaver, who had pushed his chair back with an almighty heave, using the table to balance himself as he stood. Flashing the gypsy a cheeky grin, he began undoing the ties of his trousers.

"Ha, I win!"

He paused long enough in his undoing to flash his undergarments at the hero. "Don't count your hobbes until they're hatched, gypsy boy. Or whatever it is they say in this charming little hole."

Taking a pull off the bottle, despite having won, the hero shrugged.

"I was wondering where you had gone off to."

Both of them visibly jumped, Sparrow choking and spilling liquor in his lap, Reaver just barely catching himself from falling over. Standing next to their table, no looming over their table, was a shimmering, blue clad man.

"Garth! Why're you out s'late?"

The mage glanced down at the half-naked Sparrow with barely concealed distaste. "It's eight in the morning, Sparrow."

Gaping, Sparrow looked to Reaver, who in turn glanced around to the nearest window. "My my, when on earth did it get so bright out?"

"The sun rose two hours ago."

He and the gypsy exchanged a look, smirks appearing on both their faces when they came to the silent conclusion that the game would indeed be finished. Undoing the last tie, Reaver let his trousers fall.

"What exactly are the two of you doing?"

"Why isn't it obvious my good mage?" He kicked his pants up into his hand, folding them before deftly draping them over his chair with the rest of his clothes. Sparrow may not have cared where he threw his clothes, but Reaver would be damned if his got full of whatever it was that was sticky on the floor.

"Let me rephrase that. Why are you taking your clothes off in the middle of a bar?"

"Why not?" Both Sparrow and Reaver replied in unison, breaking out in childish laughter the second they looked at one another.

The pirate sat as gracefully as he could, motioning for Sparrow to hand him the cards out of his reach.

Garth sighed, but both of them ignored it. "Where's Hammer?"

Reaver didn't bother pausing in his shuffling to ask "Who?"

"Hammer."

"No need to get so touchy old man, don't want to have a heart attack in the middle of a bar do you? It would be most unseemly."

"Says the pirate sitting around in nothing but his undergarments."

"That, is another thing entirely." He dealt their hands as he spoke, never once bothering to glance at Garth. Truthfully, there was a chance that if he did, he'd break out into hysterics for no discernable reason.

"Now, if you're referring to the giantess we tracked here, and then failed miserably to persuade to leave, even with the threat of violence mind you, you are simply out of luck. It seems we lost track of her ages ago. Why don't you-Ha, royal bloody flush!" Reaver slapped his cards on the table, completely forgetting what it was he'd been talking about. Or that Garth was still looming over them like a displeased parent.

With a scowl, Sparrow threw his cards onto the table, taking another pull from the bottle before beginning his attempt to remove his remaining boot. "Now who's bloody cheatin'."

"Why, not I. But if you should feel the need to properly, ah, interrogate me, I'll come most willingly." He held his wrists up before him as if he was about to be cuffed, chuckling as Sparrow rolled his eyes then grabbed the table when the action made him dizzy.

"If the two of you don't mind, I'd rather not sit here and wait for one or both of you to get nude-"

"Then don't? I'm sure you have spells to brew, or potions to cast, or whatever it is you do-"

"So why don't you continue this latter and help me find Hammer, since that's what Theresa sent you here for in the first place."

"Oh yea…knew we were forgetting something…" Sparrow leant back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"If I recall correctly, which I do, we did find her. And unable to move her, found a way to occupy ourselves until she was finished with whatever it was she was doing."

"Getting drunk and…and seducing the bartender? I think that's what she was doing…" Sparrow furrowed his brow in thought, trying to recall through the haze the last time he'd bothered to see what she was up to.

Reaver kicked the table to get the gypsy's attention, motioning to the cards he'd shoved across the table. Sparrow blinked, then dutifully gathered them up and began once again shuffling.

That is, until Garth snatched them out of his hand.

"Put your clothes back on."

"Hey!"

"I've had to listen to Theresa lecture all last night, and much to my displeasure, all this morning. I'd rather not return without you three and receive another ear full."

He and Sparrow looked from Garth, to each other, to the bag Sparrow had shoved under the table. At some point during the night, they'd grown tired of having Theresa butt in and demand to know what they were doing, and so upon Reaver's suggestion had stuffed the Guild Seal as far into Sparrow's bottomless bag as it would go.

"Well?"

Sparrow gave Garth a critical, if slightly wavering, look. He, like Reaver, was obviously aware that the deck of cards had disappeared into the depths of the mage's robes, and neither of them currently stood a chance of getting them back. Heaving a melodramatic sigh, the gypsy pulled himself to his feat, grabbing the bottle as he went.

Reaver, seeing they were indeed defeated, went about the task of putting his pants back on. It turned out to be a hell of a lot of work. By the time he'd managed it, he'd already decided the rest of his clothing could wait until they stopped being confusing bastards.

As he stood, Sparrow held out the bottle to him. "Here. You lost, you finish it."

Reaver wrinkled his nose. "On technicality. That doesn't mean I lost, it means that the game was rudely ended before we could ascertain an actual winner. Besides, you touched it last, you drink it."

Scoffing, Sparrow moved around the table enough to shove the bottle into his hands, which grabbed it before he could demand they do otherwise. "No, you touched it last."

Reaver shoved it back at Sparrow, who also grabbed it, though just barely. "I think not."

Sparrow made to shove it back at Reaver, but this time he was ready, hands firmly at his side and in no way about to betray him. If it fell and shattered at their feet so be it, because he refused to ingest anymore.

Fortunately for him, and the maid who'd have to clean up their mess, Garth once again stepped in, pulling the bottle from Sparrow's hands and setting it loudly on the table between them. "There, problem solved. Now grab your things and help me find Hammer-"

"Ye talkin' bout the lass upstairs?"

"Perhaps."

"One's got the ginger snake hair, an' carries round tha' statue piece?"

Sparrow glanced at him, and they both broke down into a fit of hysteric laughter.

Garth sighed. "Yes, that sounds like her." He turned to them, lifting a hand to show off the sparks dancing between his fingers. "I suggest the two of you follow me and assist in waking her."

Despite the threat, it took nearly five minutes before either of them could still their laughter long enough to be of any use. It then took another five minutes to realize neither of them would be able to get dressed any further, another three to stuff their clothes in Sparrow's pack.

Mounting the stairs was a whole other issue entirely.

Barely halfway up and Sparrow fell backwards into Reaver, who just barely managed to keep both of them from falling, causing another bought of laughter. Only by clinging to one another and the banister did they manage the challenge of the staircase.

"Well that was most entertaining…" He gave Sparrow a squeeze for good measure, causing the hero to stumble against him.

Laughing, Sparrow stuck his tongue out at the staircase. "Vanquished! Vanquished, I say!"

Reaver reached for his pistol to shoot the staircase for good measure, only to remember it was somewhere amidst the clothes they'd given up on.

"Over here you two."

Stumbling, and using the wall to hold both himself and Sparrow upright, Reaver managed to make it to the proper room. "Why Garth, I didn't know you were into this sort of thing!"

The mage shot him a look. "I don't know what you're on about now, pirate, but I can assure you whatever it is you're thinking is untrue."

"Bit of a stiff innet 'e?" Sparrow whispered none too quietly into Reaver's ear. "Maybe ye'should get 'im drunk." The gypsy giggled as Reaver gave the wall a thoughtful look.

"You know, I honestly can't picture what that would look like…."

Garth, having already started ignoring them, strode over to the bed where Hammer was currently sprawled out, snoring like a bull. "Hammer. Hammer!" He shook her roughly, causing her to start and swat at him. Fortunately, Garth moved out of the way before he was thrown into a wall.

"Wha's, who's there?"

Hammer looked blearily around the room, taking in the displeased mage and the two using the doorframe to keep themselves upright as they laughed themselves hoarse. Completely ignoring Garth for the time being, Hammer focused in on the pirate and the gypsy. "Why aren't y'two wearin' clothes?"

Unable to stay upright any longer, Sparrow and Reaver slid to the floor, leaning against one another and clutching their stomachs as another bought of hysteria hit them.

Theresa didn't yet know it, but she was about to have a very long day.