Jack tried to calm back down a little, still concerned with the amount of liquor his little friend had just guzzled, "So, what is the 'experiment'?"
Dan finishes off the last drink and sits back, seeming to take stock of how drunk he truly is, "Well, it's a thought I just had. I think I've had it before? Let's jus' call it reverse psychmometry," He stumbled over his words, "Hold my hand bigguy." He opened his palm, "Unless you don't wanna. I don't like messing with people's minds. Seems kinda rude don'cha think? Feel bad enough bout just lookin some times."
"Wait messing with minds?" He trusted the man offering his hand across the table, but only to an extent. That extent was shorter now that his brain might be in the hands of a drunk and high hippy.
"Putting my thoughts into someone just never sat well with me. Coul' probably do it though." He looked off, as if not entirely certain.
"Okay, you can try it."
Jack placed his hand back in Dan's, "Now relax your thinker. If you can, rememer the last time you had a good night out on the town."
"Done."
That old memory of Jacks started to get stronger, closer, clearer, as if someone was pulling it up out of a well, that someone being Dan. Except he was adding his own water to the bucket as it ascended through the cobwebs of history. Soon the old memory and the latest sensations are mixed together into something new. No longer memory at all, and it's reached the top of the well. For a few moments Jack can feel Dan in his head. His presence felt like an eye's gaze from across a room. It was trying, as gently as possible, yet still floundering, to swim downward, all while pulling this 'bucket' up. Jack lost track of Dan's presence when he 'dumped the bucket'. The substance inside of it and the eye's gaze melted through his mind into the fuzzy relaxed haze of inebriation and high. He could even faintly taste the smoke and alcohol in the back of his throat.
"Whoa…" Across the table, Dan looks like he's sleeping. His hand is still locked firmly in Jack's though.
He sat there for a while, just enjoying sensations he thought he would never experience again. It would be better if Dan were still conscious though. Someone to enjoy this with. He'd just have to enjoy it for the both of them, "Hmmmmmmmm…."
A sharpie appeared from Jack's pocket. An artist was always prepared. Next, Dan gained the sudden ability to grow some decent facial hair other than the blonde stubble along his jaw and chin. A nice, new, dark, and dapper French moustache. He leaned back to appreciate his work, and then added a monocle for good measure.
Jack scoops Dan up for a second time that night, a little tipsy and woozy from the empathic link that was still being maintained between the two, "Well Rhodes, looks like we gotta get out of here." He gave Dan a pat on the back and shifted him to over his shoulder, "Princess here fell asleep."
The man waves them out, "Take care of my Danny boy now, Jack. Come back anytime."
"Will do!"