@royal-amber-tombs continued from here
Being the worse for drink was hardly that disgraceful. At times, the siren song of alcohol’s sweet oblivion was powerful indeed. While Odysseus might have had the convenience of very real and solid mast to tie himself to, all a man had to guard himself against the lure of spirits was his own willpower. Being seen in such a state in public however…
But perhaps it did not matter. Mortal men would have their mortal foibles, their flaws and failings, and Funny himself had sought out the good doctor of his own accord, after all. So few of his employees seemed altogether sane and if Ferdinand was perhaps a little too passionate about the field he had dedicated his life to, that was hardly something to be faulted if it served the president’s purposes for the time being.
“You, sir, are quite far gone and do not try to deny it,” he murmured mildly, taking the seat next to the doctor. “Since it appears you need some supervision, I will take you up on your offer. Just the one glass, mind you. And not of… whatever that is that you are having. Some bourbon would do me, I think.”
Even what passed for it in this seedy dive should be safe enough, even if potentially quite unpalatable. He had survived Pvt. Smythe’s special brew, after all. Quite a tenacious man, Smythe had been, managing to somehow make seemingly everything and anything into a potent ‘beverage’, if one could be so kind as to refer to his creations in such terms. In hindsight, it was a small miracle Funny had lived long enough to even find the Corpse’s heart.
He pushed those thoughts from his mind. Thinking of the long dead with such nostalgia was no job for a sober man, much less one with so little use for empty sentimentality. Pvt. Smythe was best left with the rest of them, bones bleaching under the desert sun. In the end, none of them, nor the lives they might have lived, mattered. They had served their purpose by bringing Funny to the Corpse and, their purpose fulfilled, had perished. All was as it should be.
Emerging from his musings, the president took up the drink that had been put in front of him and inclined it ever so slightly to Ferdinand. “I would drink to your health, but I daresay you will regret this choice in short order.” He took a cautious sip of whatever passed for bourbon in this place. It did not go down smoothly, but the spreading warmth of alcoholic limbo was a pleasant relief all the same.
“When you do, please be so kind as to not vomit on me,” he said, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a rare half smile. “You should still have the presence of mind to do me that small favor, yes?”
jacobvanloon
origamiaround
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