lostcarnival | This is not how healthy individuals deal with their problems.

Who: Psi and Open
What: Drinking Alien Booze
Where: The Cookhouse and Around (see prompts)
When: Right after the supervisor meeting.
Warnings: People using alcohol in unhealthy ways. Drunkenness. Adult language highly likely.

He takes to the air as soon as the meeting is over, sick of looking at that weird symbol and sick of listening to everybody talk about what to do next. All the other supervisors seemed to feel like some kind of violent response was necessary. Perhaps in their minds if the carnival didn't respond it would allow the vampires a second chance to attack. The Psionic, however, didn't agree with that line of thinking. The reality was that none of them had any way of knowing if the vampires were considering a second attack or not. The Psionic really didn't see anything wrong with getting rid of sygil and leaving it at that. It was weakening the wards, so of course they needed to remove it, but so long as the wards could be fixed they were safe here.

Even as he thinks that he can't help but feel some small sense of doubt. Even if he did feel that way, everyone else seemed to disagree. Was he missing something that seemed obvious to everyone else? Maybe they knew something he didn't. It's those sorts of fears and anxieties that begin to emerge as he flies. He doesn't want to remember the first attack, but the images come unbidden as his worries grow. Would a kid as young as Bonnie be forced to defend herself from beings like that? Miko and Lars were older. They were a bit more capable and a bit more annoying, but could they truly stand up to a foe like that?

It's nights like these when the Psionic misses his Alternian companions most. They had always know what to say and do. Their absence stings tonight in a way it hasn't in a long time, so where he ends up doing really isn't much of a surprise.

I. The Cookhouse
When he finds the bottle he holds it up victoriously. The drink inside appears to be a truly distressing shade of fluorescent lavender. He smiles before twisting off the top and pouring himself a drink. It's an Alternian liquor, or at least that's what the label seems to imply.

"This stuff is the best. Here, try this." And if you're nearby he pours you a drink. Even if you're not that nearby he'll probably end up calling you over. "This is what real liquor tastes like."

II. Around the Carnival

He's just a little bit drunk right now. He isn't stumbling, but his psionics seem to be going off much more frequently then normal.

"Hey, you! You!" he shouts loudly as he see's you walking by. He rapidly waves your character over before excitedly asking them, "Truth or dare?"

III. Supervisor Grove

Now he's really really drunk. He probably should not have drank that entire bottle, but it's too late for regrets now. His head is spinning, which is annoying, and he keeps wobbling a bit as he tries to balance himself. He stumbles, tries to catch himself with his own psionics, misjudges the force and ends up pushing himself flat on his back in the opposite direction. There's the thud of his body hitting the ground before before he just starts laughing hysterically. He makes no attempt to get up whatsoever.

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“Well, that’s a ways off yet,” he chides lightly, still trying to push himself up to his knees. Sorry, Psi- no sleeping here. “Until then, let’s rest and enjoy ourselves for what it’s worth, eh? C’mon, now.” He offers his hand down to the alien.

“Up we go, and ya can sleep with me in yer trailer.” And for once, he doesn’t mean it in a sexual way.

He groans, annoyed and unhappy as Joker forces him up. If he wanted to he could easily force Joker to stay in place. Well, it's lucky for Joker that he doesn't much like forcing anything on others. He rolls off of Joker, before letting the red haired man pull him up off the ground.

"You're no fun." He sways a bit, uneasy on his feet. "We could have slept under the stars."

“We can sleep under the stars when yer a bit more sober,” Joker chides him lightly as he adjusts the troll’s weight against him before setting off. That’s most nights, after all, since it’s not like there’s a supervisor position strictly for mothering them all, although lord knows Koel and Zecora try at times. “But for now, best make sure ya don’t fall asleep where someone can step on ya. Now, got yer feet under ya properly?”

Psi is a bit of a mother hen most nights himself. He doesn't resent others for worrying, even if he doesn't understand why anyone would bother them for sleeping outside. He nods, in response to Joker's question, though he's still struggling to stand straight. With Jokers help they'll make it, but he might step on the other man's feet. The movement makes him nauseous, but he struggles against it.

"That's fine. Been stepped on. Lots!" That's not even remotely true, but okay. "I'm on the bottom so... That's normal."

“I don’t think you’ve ever been on the bottom with me, at least,” is his cheeky innuendo of a response. However, it’s only made in teasing, and Joker insistently gets Psi all the way back to his trailer with no attempts to go any further than that or let Psi steer them further down that road. At the end of the night, with some insistence and a bit of mother henning, Joker finally gets Psi into bed.

When the troll finally wakes, it’ll be to the smell of waffles and the sound of quiet humming from Joker, an idle tune that he picked up from somewhere or another during their many travels. None of that is from Psi’s trailer, of course, because there’s nothing but teeth rotting garbage not fit for proper consumption in his trailer, but that’s fine. It’s not like the cookhouse is a far flight away, and Joker doesn’t half mind. Waffle irons, after all, are blessedly simple to use.

He's groggy as hell while he wakes that morning. His head is pounding and his body aches. It takes him a while to realize that someone's in his trailer, and it takes him even longer after that to realize it's Joker. He groans, shifting to pull a pillow over his head. The cool underside of it helps his head, so does blocking out the light. Yeah. He drank way too much. And now Joker was in his kitchen cooking... Wait, he was cooking? He can hear sizzling and smell food so he must be.

He sits up abruptly, the pillow on his head falling to the side. Is that...? Coming into the kitchen area he is greeted with possibly one of the greatest things he has ever seen. Waffles.

"Oh shit. You're the best." Is this a situation in which it would be applicable to call Joker his fairy godmother? Probably, but no more talking because shhh only waffles now. "Did you go to the cookhouse just to get this?"

"Only for you, love," Joker laughs as he sets out another waffle, ears having flicked at the first sound of Psi waking up in the first place. "Just had to dump some things in a bag and then fly right back, didn't take much time at all."

As he gets ready to pour in some more better, he makes a faint motion of his head over to some more cleared counter space. "Got ya a glass of water waitin'. That's supposed ta help ya, apparently, and I figured since ya probably wouldn't want ta see alcohol anytime soon..." He chuckles. "Best not try the hair of the dog that bit ya."

Just hugs. It's clearly the only appropriate response. And is Psi in his underwear? Probably. He most definitely started undressing randomly on the way home last night. Joker why do you even put up with this wreck?

"Thank you." Yup, just give him a second to fondly adore you before he pulls away and moves towards the glass of water. He vanishes into the bathroom for a second looking for some aspirin before he returns, the water now half empty. He sets it back on the counter looking a bit weary now that the surprise of breakfast has passed.

"God. Why the hell did I drink so much?"

Well, he’s fond of this hot wreck, honestly, and this is also not the first time he has seen Psi in his underwear, so, you know.

By the time Psi comes out again, Joker seems to be almost done with the steadily growing stack of waffles he’s crafted. At his commentary, Joker pauses to glance back at him. The answer is an obvious one, he thinks, but also not one he thinks Psi would necessarily like to be reminded of. At least, not while he’s suffering from a hangover. “Well, it’s been a rough few days,” is all he says, adding one last waffle to the stack and gesturing for Psi to dig in.

This is not how healthy individuals deal with their problems.

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wanna do a mornin after?

morning after done

Re: morning after done

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