[ @hatterstearoom ; ask meme || my muse makes a drunk confession to your muse ] It wasnât that often that Absolem drank enough alcohol to get drunk. His stomach was practically lined with a layer of alcohol resistant enzymes with the rate of which he knocked back his particular favourite, Yamasaki whiskey. It was practically water to him now. However, he had not been drinking whiskey, nor water. He had been drinking something that really went to his head - vodka. What better thing to burn down his throat when he was with the fantastic Jervis. An assortment of wonderful flavours of the thing lay lined up before them. Though he could hardly remember which ones were which at this point.
Absolem trusted Jervis. He was one of few people he really did. Absolem knew the human condition well, but Jervis was a deviant of it, among the others in their circle. He liked the deviators. He trusted a person when they were unpredictable, and when they didnât follow the rules of natural order or instinct. Perhaps that is why his blurry mind had thought it a good idea to say what he said; because it was Jervis and Jervis would react wholly unexpectedly, and hopefully very well.
 He had told himself that he didnât have secrets to keep; only things that people had not bothered to inquire about, and thus were not known. But this felt like a secret, based purely on the weight of what might happen if people did inquire. But there was no reason why anyone would inquire about this, because it was the last thing most people close to Absolem would expect from him. He hardly expected it from himself, although he was not surprised with himself when it had happened. His drunken mind had struggled with the compelling need to tell someone, so that Absolem could say; âWell it wasnât a secret. People knew, but nobody asked. Thatâs not a secret.âÂ
âJervis, chap, thereâs worse things to do. You could be me; You couldâve had sex with Victoria.â
