Disclaimer: Don't own, so don't sue.
A/C: Silly one-shot I wrote some time ago. It was meant to be my entry for a Sunny Funny Ficathon, but it was so OC and another idea came to me and... well, this was left behind.
Thought I'd publish it know, though. A bit of silliness can be a good thing.
She had said no.
She had said no!
How dare she even suggest such an answer to his well elaborated and carefully placed proposal?!
Rhett Butler stopped his inner pondering for a second to focus on the glass before him. For some strange reason, he couldn't quite hold the ember-filled glass straight enough to drink from it and that simply wouldn't do! With the rapt attention only a child - or a severely drunk man - could employ, Rhett worked on steadying his shaking hand. When that failed, he decided to support his forearm on the counter. Surely then, he could have more manual control. His hand, though, was rebelling that night and his brilliant solution produced no effect.
Sighing, but not defeated, Rhett considered that, perhaps, the problem wasn't in his hand, but in his head, which had taken to spinning since glass number... Well, he couldn't really remember. Six? Seven? It was too many glasses ago for him to have kept proper track. Head! Yes, he needed to concentrate; it was the only way to put his lips to the direct path of the whiskey.
Nodding his head in approval at his new plan, Rhett leaned slightly forward and fixed his eyes on the glass. Concentration was a bit hard, but he was nothing if a persistent man and, finally, success! His mouth and the glass were aligned and his lips jutted out in an almost pout to reach the drink without breaking the new balance he had managed to conquer.
A sip.
Wonderful!
Butler leaned back up, smiling widely at his achievement. The barkeep, too jaded by endless nights of the same drunken behavior, reacted without much enthusiasm. Feeling the need to explain himself - for Rhett was sure anyone would side with him on this horrible situation - he leaned forward again conspiratorially.
"She said no."
"Did she really?" Was the unenthusiastic reply. It was encouragement enough, though, and Rhett nodded vigorously. Then immediately regretted it.
When had the world sped up and how come he failed to notice it until that moment?
The barkeep moved away to serve another costumer, leaving the dizzy charlestonian unattended and this new solitude reminded Rhett exactly why he had drank more whiskey in two hours than he had ever tried drinking before. Was he still on his second bottle or had he started in on the third one already?
She had said no.
His beautiful, recently widowed Scarlett had denied his marriage proposal. Why? He had thought the timing to be perfect; she had just lost her husband and was at a frail moment. He had shown himself duly interested in her body, - hiding completely his love -, he had offered her all his riches and that kiss! Scarlett hadn't been the only one who had felt like melting. His asking had been done to a turn! Still, she had said no. After a second of haziness following her whispered yes, Scarlett had somehow managed to regain her composure and said no!
She didn't even seem angry and throw him out like he had so grown used to. No, that was all she said before leaving the parlor.
Not how it was supposed to have gone.
Not at all.
A man sat beside him and he was seeing too many dancing shapes around the man in question to really identify his new companion. Regardless, he needed an ear, or two. Any ear! Because, she said no.
"No, she said." Rhett turned a bit sideways and tried to take another sip with disastrous results; whiskey escaped at the corner of his lips and wet the front of his already stained shirt. "I did everything right." He pointed the glass at the stranger, as if warning against an objection. "Everything." The glass dropped loudly upon the counter and sloshed more of the yellowed liquid onto its wooden surface. "But she said no, just like that."
"She said no?" What was this man, stupid? Hadn't he been saying it all night? Scarlett had said no. But the stranger wasn't done. "What was the question?"
Rhett paused.
Had he actually said the words in the way of a question? The memory failed in. Surely between his sarcasm and his wooing and the fight that followed, he had pronounced the words as it was proper.
Will you marry me, Scarlett?
Once more he shook his head. Of course he had asked and it was just plain silly to be thinking about it. The stranger touched him lightly on the shoulder and reintroduced his question.
"I asked her to marry me... I- I don't want to lose her again."
Drunk as he was, Rhett recognized his pronunciation ability wasn't at top speed. To compensate the huge amounts of alcohol in his system, which muddled his brain, he spoke each word carefully and slowly and ended up, unfortunately, sounding like a child painstakingly repeating the sounds of words he had yet to learn and understand. Not that he realized this himself.
"Why did she say no?"
Shrug, pout, head down and another attempt at a sip of whiskey, which was semi-successful. Didn't this stranger understand that the reasons which had compelled her to deny his request failed to matter? She had said no and that was enough. Rhett simply didn't care why.
The world was filled with stupid people.
The company was suddenly more a nuisance than anything else and Rhett decided to leave. There were other places where a heart broken man could get a decent drink and not be asked stupid questions. Unfortunately for poor Rhett, his legs were in a state even worse than his shaking hands and he managed to crumble to the ground before even putting all his weight upon his unsteady legs.
It could have been funny - it was funny and several people at the bar laughed - had he not been the one to fall. And he could have been sufficiently eloquent in explaining his present state. But the truth was that he said nothing more than the same thing he had been whispering incredulously to himself since he left Miss Pitty's parlor.
She had said no.