The Dark Ace was incredible.
As in, incredibly drunk.
Incredibly, incredibly drunk.
"Hic. Wow," he slurred. "I c'n ev'n get wast'd in my own heard. Head. Hic."
"YES."
"That's pretty...purty...pretty impressive."
"Hm."
"So I just imagarne... imagine... whatever... and it'll... 'ppear?"
"SOMETHING ALONG THOSE LINES."
"Can I imagine... a nonexistent hangover?"
"...no. I mean, uh, NO."
"...damn."
"SO WHY DO YOU WANT TO GET WASTED?"
"Well, consid'ring you tol' me a couple of minutos... minutes... 'go, that I was gon' get kissed by m' boss... WELL..." He took another swig out of a large bottle of sherry.
"IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM."
"Any way I can... avoid that... sit'ation?
"THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR." A pause. "ACTUALLY, I'M ALWAYS HERE, BUT YOU JUST TEND TO IGNORE ME. BUT UH... LET'S DEAL WITH THIS AFTER YOU WAKE UP."
"W... wake up?"
"ACCORDING TO YOUR ALCOHOL INTAKE, YOU WILL PASS OUT IN ABOUT THIRTY-THREE SECONDS."
"Huh. Whadya know. I've got a smart-aleck conscience. Hic."
"ONE QUESTION BEFORE YOU FALL ASLEEP."
"Right."
"WHY SHERRY?!"
"...Because beer tastes like pig piss."
And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he fell to the floor, snoring. If the conscience had a face, he would have been shaking it.
Sadly.
OOO
A/N. Beer tastes like pig piss. Not that I know what pig piss tastes like, but... yeah. Thanks for the idea, Xekstrin. ;) Don't get drunk at the afterprom.