Time for Livin'
I kicked off my shoes, and felt the good earth beneath my feet
I loosened my tie, and felt what it feels like to breathe
I found the secret to life
I took some time for living
I took off my watch, and found I had all the time in the world
I opened up my arms, so I could hold life like a beautiful girl
I laid down all of my hang-ups forever
I looked around, and saw what sweet things can be found
Simply by taking some time for living
"I'm leaving now!" Vala called, pulling her cloak on over a pair of old, scruffy black robes. She didn't get out much anymore, and generally collected her outfits from the back of Remus' closet. It didn't bother her much, she wasn't much into fashion anymore, and the robes were generally loose and comfortable.
"Don't drink too much!" Remus hollered back.
That was odd advice, considering he usually told her to keep an eye on her drinks.
"Um… Okay?" She walked down the hallway with a quizzical expression, slowly inching a pair of leather gloves on.
Remus broke into her view, sitting on a chair, a book in hand. "Don't think I never took advantage of The Lucky Clover, they don't check ID's you know." He glanced up at her. "In my youth, of course."
"I should expect so." A hand reached each hip. "When did you-" A hurried knock rudely interrupted.
"You better go, he's getting impatient," he warned.
She looked him over again.
"Go," he urged.
She shrugged and turned away. "Alright, but if I hear about any woman I haven't been informed about from you directly, heads will roll."
He shook his head, returned to his book, and she left.
"Took ya long enough," Grant grumbled. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and he bounced from foot to foot. "It's bloody freezin'!"
"Sorry, I was saying my good-byes." She inhaled the air and stepped down the steps.
"Your good-byes? You're not dyin'," he pointed out rather obviously, following her.
"No, but you never know when you'll see someone last." She crossed her arms, and continued across the lawn.
"That's kind of depressing, don't you think?"
"Yes, but I often find that the truth is rather depressing."
~+~+~+~
"Have another beer, my lass."
"I'm quite alright, Mr. O'Daniel."
"Nonsense! Drink, drink!" Mr. O'Daniel, Ronnie's father and Grant's uncle, urged.
Awkwardly, Vala sipped her beer and made a face. She didn't particularly like the taste of beer, but rejecting an Irishman's drink was just as ludicrous as tweaking Snape's nipple; it was unthinkable, of course as all unthinkable things everyone is guilty of… well, thinking about them. But in the end, guilty curiosities or not, you just didn't do it.
"Yer know, I'm so proud of 'im. Out drinkin' the best 'o muh kin an' all." Mr. O'Daniel wiped a tear from her eye as Vala shifted a glance to Grant, gulping beer after beer, winning contest after contest, erupting into cheer over and over again. Something inside her panged with guilt. She liked to see him happy, but not at the cost of millions of brain cells.
"Don't you think he's had enough?" she asked meekly.
"Enough? Enough!" Mr. O'Daniel shouted in shock. And suddenly tweaking Snape's nipple didn't seem nearly as ludicrous as rejecting an Irishman from his drink.
"Or not," she hurried. Vala looked away, rubbing the back of her neck.
"'Ey! Vala! Come on o'er 'ere!" Grant hollered across the bar.
Willingly, she took the offer. Though Mr. O'Daniel had grown considerably intent with watching the droplets on his beer mug become pregnant and stream down the sides, she still felt the dire need to move away from him.
She pushed her way through the crowd, and slowly came alongside Grant.
"Give the pretty lady yer seat, will ya?" he half asked, half demanded of a younger boy. Irish, but younger all the same.
"No sense in being rude," she preached, taking the seat anyway.
"Nonsense! Where's yer beer?"
"Uh… I…"
He waved a finger at her. "Ooh, ooh… I see. I see!" He stared at her with a fixed grin and unfocused eyes, then he ordered her a beer.
"Grant, really, I-"
"Shup and drink!" he ordered, forcing the beer into her hands.
Reluctantly, she sipped it. Though she made a face anyone less than blind could recognize as extreme dislike, he cheered, "Aw, now tha' wasn' so bad, was it?"
"No," she lied, no point in bringing him down.
"Tha's wha' I thought!" He paused for a moment, and a thought struck him. He looked around with desperately wide eyes. "Anyone, Anyone!" he began rallying. "Let's get some drinkers!" It was only eleven thirty, but everyone had grown tired of drinking contests. Grant had drank them all out of courage and dignity, and some of the stupider ones twice. Grant checked his watch, stared at it for a good minute or two, and frowned. Drinking impaired his negotiating skills only slightly. He leaned over to Vala, "Be a good lil lass and read meh the time, will ya?"
Vala sighed. "It's 11:30."
"Perfect, a fifteen minute run!" He turned to the waiting crowd and finished, "It's half an hour till the New Year! Who'll drink meh in?"
Still, no volunteers.
"Hows 'bout I raise the stakes then!" he hollered. He grabbed Vala's hand and raised it high. "Who sees this pritty lil lass by meh? Outdrink me and she's yours!"
The men roared in laughter and cheer, but Vala ripped her hand away. "Grant!" she screeched. "How dare you!"
"Oh, she's a prissy lil lass, ain't she!"
"Not pleasant at all!"
Vala, feeling insulted, glared a bit, but still felt the need to prove herself otherwise. She couldn't leave letting all those Irishmen, drunk or not, believe she was indeed a 'prissy lil lass.'
"So, are you all gonna stand around like chuckling monkeys, or are we going to get some contestants?" she challenged.
A man stepped forward. He was light skinned, blue eyed, and against all odds, dark haired. Also, he was suspiciously sober; a great crime in the Irish culture, but his arms were bulk and he was most obviously more into arm wrestling.
"We've seen what Grant can do," he began, "But you, want can you do?"
Grant stared at the man, his mind working hard to understand what he was saying. "You wanna drink agains' a woman?" he guessed. He paused, then smirked. "Can't take the heat against ol' Grant O'Neil, can ya?" he asked with defiance. "Feels bettah ta win, regardless of the component, eh?"
"Not at all," he admitted. "Actually, I thought we might all be a little interested in seeing you drink against a woman."
"Wait a minute… I don't think so," Vala cut in. I can't drink against-
"Oh," he rounded on her. "Don't think you can do it?"
That's exactly it. "No, I just…"
"You barely have a drink in you, you seem fresh enough. Grant's at a disadvantage, being drunk and all."
"Here, here!" Grant agreed.
Vala crossed her arms, still fighting to get out of it. "Well, then I don't want to drink against him," she said sternly. "I only play fair."
"Fine," the man broke in. He captured Grant's broken gaze, "Looks like you're out of a component," he looked back at Vala and finished, "But it looks like I just found mine."
Vala wouldn't have let her jaw drop, but her mind was too busy trying to figure out what exactly had just happened.
"I… But I…" but her eyes caught every Irishman and woman staring back at her, waiting curiously for her reply. They were ready for entertainment, and she couldn't spoil that. Her arms uncrossed and dropped to her sides. She rose her chin and thrust a hand at the unnamed. "Name your claims," she commanded confidently.
"If you win," he gestured to a plank of wood nailed, for no apparent reason, to the wall above the bar. "I will carve your name in that, and everyone here will be reminded who the Queen of Drinks is every time their gaze falls on it."
"Charming. And if you win?"
An innocent smile, which was someone invested with the slyness of a fox, curled his lips. "I get a New Years kiss from the prettiest lass around."
Vala didn't miss a beat. "You've got yourself a contest," and shook his hand earnestly.
The smile twisted into a broad grin, and he waved to Ronnie. A round table was cleared in record time and Ronnie set mugs upon mugs on the table while the nameless and Vala took their seat.
"Your name?" she asked, shrugging her cloak off. "I'd like to know who I'm out-drinking," she added as a witty after comment.
"John," he answered, still grinning.
"Oh?" she pushed her sleeves back. "I'm Vala Amoureux. Hope you're a good carver, it's a tricky name."
"Yes, it's nice to know the girl's name I get to kiss."
Both grinned determinedly, a spark of confidence in their eyes. Both grabbed hold of a mug and both prepared to start the contest, but only Vala received Grant's urgent whispering.
"Never pouch the beer in your cheeks, just swallow. Don't bother gulping or tasting, just let it run down your throat. And don't stop. If you feel puke, swallow it down with the beer, don't let anything come back up. And when you've finally kicked his bulky arse I'll drag you out back and we'll have a good puke around."
The instructions were odd, but well appreciated. She patted his hand, "Thanks, Grant."
"Ready?" John asked, raising his mug.
"Ready," she affirmed.
Two young inexperienced drinkers threw back their heads, and the bottoms of glasses were seen.
A thin stream of beer trickled down the side of Vala's face, but she continued to drink. After a minute, she slammed down the mug, and grabbed another. John was only a second or two behind her, and catching up fast.
She slammed down her second mug, swayed, and picked up the third slightly slowly.
"Don't think, Vala, just drink!" she heard Grant shout. In the rush, his Irish accent seemed to have vanished, an accent that was only present when he drank.
She nodded heartily and gulped the third beer. John finished his third beer easier, but was having slight trouble with his fourth.
This is pitiful, she thought, we non-Irish are sad. Grant doesn't get like this until his tenth, at least. She pushed her reluctance aside, and slammed the third mug down, grabbing a fourth.
She went on like that, a mad machine without a thought, for four more beers. Upon slamming down the eighth beer she finally felt the effects, it seemed to rush to her head all at once. She swayed in her seat. John was setting down his seventh mug. If she paused any longer he'd get ahead, and she couldn't allow that.
Without hearing Grant's desperate urging, she picked up her ninth beer, and Ronnie brought over another tray.
"I didn't think you'd last this long, really," he admitted, setting down the tray.
She nodded and threw her head back with the beer.
Puke crept up Vala's throat, and nearly splurged across the table, but she firmly held her mouth closed.
"Hold it in, lassie! Hold it in!" Grant yelled drastically. "That plank's all yours! Just hold it in!"
She covered her mouth, the puke forcing its way against her lips. She shook her head. No, not like this. Not like this! And she swallowed it. An action that made her feel even sicker, but received numerous cheers and applause. She smiled weakly, and picked up her tenth mug of beer.
She sipped the top before taking another gulp, which she soon regretted because it made her feel more ill. She hated the taste of beer. Grant had warned her, why did she even taste it? Maybe it was because she was trying to watch John over the rim of her mug, who swayed on the spot and looked ready to throw up himself.
Vala and John locked eyes. He didn't look so good, then again, neither did she. His head tilted back and he closed his eyes. A second later he leaned forward and his head banged into the table. Almost immediately, he fell asleep. Once again, cheer erupted, but Vala didn't have time to shine because Grant grabbed her hand and ushered her out a back door.
In the alley behind the Lucky Clover Vala doubled over, letting everything that had gone down come back up. Grant stood next to her, holding her shoulders in case she leaned too forward and tripped into the chunky soup she was making.
He whispered words of support and triumph. "Don't keep any of it in, lassie, there ya go… better out then in, as they always say. That was beautiful, lassie, the contest, I mean. You got ol' John nice an' good. He's gonna have a deflated chest after this, never live it down, he won't. You on the other hand… Your name on the plank an' everything! Amazin', lass, you never cease to amaze me."
She nodded, and instantly regretted it as her stomach did another flip and she released more soup.
"Lucky you ate somethin', lassie, dry-heavin' is painful!"
Vala gurgled, a bubble oozing from her lips, taking flight, and popping.
"Yeah, yeah… it's never very pretty." Grant sighed. "Anyone else and I'd say it was a waste of beer. This the first time you drink, lass?"
Vala's head was swimming, her eyelids drooped, and her lips trembled.
"Lass? Ooh sorry... I'll take that as a yes."