[F29 - PP] On the House (2x Speed)

[Lessa 1]

The weight of the world dragged at Lessa's shoulders, and she worried she might collapse beneath the addition of Jomei's hands. Instead, she managed to draw in a long breath, and then she forced herself to meet his gaze. But the warmth she found there, and the pure, unadulterated compassion, nearly broke her. So she busied herself with counting the raindrops studding his eyelashes like tiny gemstones. When he smiled, she offered only a tight-lipped response, as if showing her teeth might be the final crack in the dam that held back... what, exactly? Tears? Grief? Longing? A colorful array of expletives, highlighting all the places the game designers could shove their little Lovecraftian horrors? Nothing good could come from breaking.

Yet as they unloaded the cargo in silence, the only sound between the uncomfortable squelching of waterlogged gear, she found herself ruminating. Jomei wasn't the first to give her this talk, encouraging her to lighten her load, and let someone else take over for a while. Hell, even before Aincrad, Alyssa had struggled with taking on more than her fair share. But Alyssa had never unloaded barrels of alcohol in a haunted bar, soaking wet, only hours after fighting waves of horrific monsters and a rabid bear. Alyssa had never been forced to raise a sword in defense of the ones she loved, and the life she left behind.

Alyssa had never met Jomei.

The window populating in front of her face tore Lessa back to the present. "Oh," she muttered dumbly, reading over the words before glancing toward the bar, then Jomei. "Uh, yeah, no, definitely not a good idea." 

Despite her words, some unseen force tugged her gently toward the battered bar-top, not unlike how she’d been drawn back to H.P.’s at the beginning of the quest. Her movement’s mirrored Jomei’s, her cold, damp fingers closing around the glass. There was dirt on the glass, but she noted the issue in the same way she felt the dentist’s drill while on nitrous oxide - it was concerning, but not especially urgent. Even thoughts of Jomei, which had buried themselves deep, fled as she lifted the rim to her lips. She caught the faintest whiff of cinnamon, then downed the entire thing.

Then loosed a loud, barking cough, slapping the glass down before pounding her own chest with a closed fist. “Jesus,” she drawled, shaking her head. “That was strong. Good, but strong.” She studied her empty cup for a beat, then added, “Tastes just like skiing with my family. My mom had these ski poles, and you could unscrew the handles, and fill them with alcohol. She always went with Fireball. That was whiskey, and this is definitely vodka, but the cinnamon is the same.” Lessa pursed her lips, then slanted Jomei a look. “And so is the kick.”

When she turned her attention back to the bar, surprise had her nearly toppling off her barstool. Amber liquid once more filled the glass, abnormally bright in the room’s dim lighting. “Speedy service,” she quipped, even as she found herself leaning slightly closer to her companion.

By the time she finished her second round of cinnamon vodka, her shoulder was pressed flush against his. “You know,” she began suddenly, “what you said earlier? About me taking a break, and cutting myself some slack? You are nooooooot the first person to tell me to do that.” Did she put unnecessary emphasis on the word ‘not?’ That was an odd choice. “But I think you might be the first person I actually listen to.”

243699 | CD: 11

[Jomei 0]

A laugh bubbled up within Jomei, snorting as he tried to keep the wine from spewing. Despite the exhaustion, the stress, and everything else this day threw at them, he still managed to genuinely laugh. Was the alcohol already masking the pain, so to speak, or was it the comfort of the company he kept. Both? Both. Wiping a small drop of drink from the corner of his lip, he looked to Lessa.

“Sounds I need to go skiing with your family sometime.” he responded with a smile. “Though, I’ve never skiied in my life, probably not wise to do it while drinking.” 
Shifting his weight, he turned slightly to face Lessa. Diving into the second drink that had refilled in front of him without question, he would return the glass to the bartop. “Whats with moms and finding creative ways to sneak liquor. My mom and her friends used to wash out shampoo bottles to sneak drinks on trips when they were younger. Definitely still tasted like soap.” He would laugh again, this time making no attempt to stifle it.
“Well if you wanted to drink something a little smoother, this-“ before Jomei could even offer some of his plum wine to Lessa, she can thrown back a second helping of the cinnamon vodka. Turning even more in his spot to completely face Lessa, his eyes widened in utter surprise. “Well, damn.” he finally spat out, “Can’t let you drink me under the table like that.” The rim of his glass was already touching his bottom lip, and all he needed was a tilt to finish off the rest of his drink. 

“Oh, I’m sure I’m not.” Jomei responded, when Lessa claimed he wasn’t the first to say shes taking on too much. His voice softened as her shoulder rested against his, and it took all of his waning self control to not rest his head atop hers. “And what makes me so special that you’ll listen to me?” he would remark with a chuckle. “Because there’s one thing you’ll learn about me, it’s that I am terrible at following my own advice. So I couldn’t even tell you if it’s good advice or not.”