if you ain't getting drunk, get the fuck out the trailer

[kingsroads]

WHO: Strange & Lambert
WHEN: Day 77, after Moss and Shimmer's talk
WHERE: Lambert's trailer
WHAT: booze. and probably eventual talking of plot and maybe Strange'll actually tell Lambert about the deal with Ignatius. but mostly booze
WARNINGS: booooooze

Considering that Strange had already gotten sloppy drunk with Shimmer, he probably shouldn't be getting sloppy drunk with Lambert. But fuck it. The Ignatius thing had been weighing on his mind to the point where even after recovering from a hangover, Strange decided he wanted another drink. He should tell someone. But part of Strange doesn't want to tell anyone about it until Eden proper, just so the Ringmaster and himself can be spared a bit of yelling and spared people trying to persuade him otherwise.

Add in all that about the Huntsman...and yeah, Strange wants some booze. It'd be even better if he had the booze with Lambert. It's been far too long since the two of them just got drunk.

In true Strange fashion, he doesn't use the door to get into Lambert's trailer. This time he enters as smoke, slipping into the trailer through a crack underneath the doorjam. Strange resolidifies: even though they're off of camping time, he's still wearing a variation on his camping outfit of light cotton shirt, sleeves rolled up past the elbows, khaki trousers.

"I hope you summon your soul at some point during the evening," Strange calls out, as he starts to make his way to Lambert's kitchen area, walking in here like he owns the place. "I'm overdue a conversation with Celandine."

Comments

[whattaprick]

“Would’ve been nice to know,” Lambert agrees, frowning. “There was a rumor she’d killed a winter fae back in Portland, but ... didn’t realize that was something that actually happened.”

He frowns at the ceiling, and Celandine stirs under Strange’s hand.

“Don’t,” she offers, sleepily. “You’ll hurt her feelings. Then you’ll end up just like Lambert.”

[kingsroads]

Strange can't help but smile a little at Celandine's words. He gives her a few scratches behind the ears before he continues talking.

"On the contrary, I wouldn't. Because I wouldn't pick a fight with her when there's a Summer Fae in danger of bleeding out on her doorstep." Though that does raise another question and Strange's smile turns to a little bit of a frown. "Can fae even bleed out in the first place?"

How does biology work, we just don't know.

[whattaprick]

Celandine sighs, but much like Lambert, she recognizes futility when she sees it. Maybe Strange will just have to deal with being thrown into a wall, too.

“I don’t think so,” Lambert shakes his head. “They’re basically beings just made of magic, aren’t they?”

“Like daemons!” Celandine chirps.

“You could ask West.” And the witcher gives a slow, shitty smirk at some private joke, while Celandine snickers into her fur. “Seems like he thinks about that kind of thing a lot.”

[kingsroads]

The problem here is that West's a creep. Strange frowns a little at the idea of asking West or even talking about fae biology with West to begin with.

"He'd probably get up in arms about how it isn't scientific enough." Strange scoffs a little, shaking his head. At least in Strange's mind, there's a sharp divide between things considered 'scientific' and things that are magic. "It's no use trying to think about these things like scholars or doctors do. After all, there's no scientific explanation for my hair or your horns."

Sorry Celandine, the petting has stopped for the moment as Strange reaches up to loosely twirl one of his curls around his finger. The end still burns, but the fire near Strange's hands doesn't seem to bother him that much.

[whattaprick]

“You just asked if a fae could bleed out. That’s about as scientific as it gets,” Lambert points out. Celandine huffs in protest, head twisting around. She’ll go for the hand not playing woth his hair, grabbing his thumb gently with her teeth and tug at it. Get the hint, magician!

As for the burning ends of his hair... Lambert regards it, seriously.

“You told me before the Carnival’s changes would fade,” he says, cocking his head. “You think that will too?” Though, looking at Strange ever so slightly on fire gives him an idea. A battered packet is produced after a bit of digging around in the cushions, and ... yep, that sure is Lambert leaning forward to light a cigarette off his best friend’s hair.

[kingsroads]

Strange can't help but laugh as Celandine starts yanking at his thumb. Fine, fine, he'll resume the petting! And so he does, scratching the back of Celandine's neck scruff with his claws.

Lambert lighting a cigarette doesn't give much of a reaction except for Strange to roll his eyes slightly. "I've no idea if this will fade," he'll admit, "but I'm certain that, like my smoke, I'll learn to control it with time."

Or at least, find a way to nullify it enough for public company. Strange can't really interact with English society with his hair on fire.

"I do have something that can help me out," Strange points out. "The Ringmaster managed to salvage my cloak from when..." from when Ignatius enthralled Strange. From when Strange almost killed Lambert. "...from all that business. It's fire resistant! I've been wrapping it up and using it as a pillow, but I'll be certain to actually wear it on our next nightrunner mission."

[whattaprick]

Lambert doesn’t immediately answer, taking a moment to get a few fortifying lungfuls of sweet, sweet nicotine first. It also serves the function of forcing him to take deep breaths before he can say anything too incendiary, which is no doubt already of questionable wisdom around a man constantly on fire.

‘All that business.’ Nice euphemism for dying.

“Hate to remind you, but you aren’t a nightrunner anymore, remember?” Strange may have actively chosen to forget that inconvenient fact. That’s the sort of thing he does. “Might wanna use it to keep yourself from torching your books. Or get part of it turned into a hat.”

[kingsroads]

"I'm certain I'll be back on the team before long," Strange simply remarks. His fingers move to scratch Celandine under her chin as he continues to talk. "After all, we both know I'm a poor fit for everything else."

Sure, he might be able to be halfway decent in Diplomacy if only because he's good at making friends. But the idea of him in Engineering or Medical is laughable and Strange knows that he'd be a terrible fit for whatever they were calling Carly's department now (resources?). As for Acquisitions...Strange has his own pet theories on why the Ringmaster shoved him there, none of which involve his actual competence.

Strange gives Lambert a wry little smile as he continues talking. "Of course, if I don't fit any departments, then the best thing to do is start up one of my own. Perhaps I'll expand my magic lessons: Lord knows everyone needs them."

[whattaprick]

"You'd have to get me and Sans to take you back first," Lambert answer, laconically. And he has no intention of doing so. Strange gets into enough trouble all on his own just being Strange, without the excuse of it being his job or some such nonsense.

"I'm just surprised the Ringmaster didn't make you the head of research on your own. Probably guessed you and Rita would just end up fighting about it."

[kingsroads]

"I'll make myself the head of research anyway. After all, I'm the only one on the team without a second job." Rita's a nightrunner and Tanyuu works with medical. Both of them can just deal with it if Strange decides to just take over the Acquisition tent and make it his own.

"And like I said, you'll take me back eventually. I doubt Childermass will bring me on many of his missions—I'm rubbish at stealth. So, that leaves me either exploring things and learning about potentially dangerous fae artifacts under your supervision or on my own."

Strange knows he gets into enough trouble on his own and is perfectly fine using that as a bullying point to try and convince Lambert to see things his way.

[whattaprick]

Before Lambert can speak, Celandine suddenly sits up, pulling away from Strange's hand.

"Now you're not even listening to us and you're threatening us? Don't use Lambert caring about you just to get your way, Strange. That's low," she tells him plaintively, heading back to Lambert and taking herself out of his reach in a huff. Even if it may be meant as a joke (which Lambert doubts, really) it hits too close to home.

"As if you ever let us supervise you in the first place," Lambert snorts, instead, like the daemon's outburst never happened at all. The witcher picks up where Strange left off, running fingers through her bristling fur with one hand and taking another swig of alcohol.

[kingsroads]

"I'm not threatening you," Strange grumbles. "I'm pointing out the obvious."

They're going to try and find the Silver Mirror. No matter what the others think or warn him about, Strange is still dead-set on finding and possibly using the Mirror himself. He knows this. Lambert knows this. But Strange would rather have Lambert on his side for back-up and support then have to go at this alone.

Besides, he's one of the few in the group who has any actual combat experience. They'll take him back (he hopes).

"As for supervising, you barely make an attempt! Half the times you could have supervised me, you were off doing things like fighting for Creation with a motorcycle horse." Or being murdered at the Prince's manor, but Strange is smart enough to bring up the silly example for teasing. He gives Lambert a little shrug before he takes another drink.

[whattaprick]

Lambert shrugs. "There's only so much I can tell you scry for something and get pitch black water, Strange. I can't order you to fight something we can't find." Which happens far too often, really.

Celandine remains unmollified by the jest, even with Lambert's fingers stroking her.

"What should be obvious," she says, forbiddingly, "Is that if you do something stupid that gets you hurt, Lambert's going to do something even stupider."

[kingsroads]

"Then have me do things other than scry." As if to prove his point, Strange rubs his fingers together: a small flame lights up over where Strange's fingers are. He moves his hand as the flame moves from the tips of his fingers to his knuckles, to the palm of his hand. Once it's there, Strange closes his hand and snuffs the flame out. He's talking as he literally plays with fire.

"My magic grows stronger every day. I shouldn't be reduced to leafing through old books or scrying for missing carnival members as a means where I can help."

No comment about Celandine's statement. Strange remembers Portland, he knows that Lambert's decision making skills go straight out of the window when someone he cares about is hurt.

[whattaprick]

"Strange," Lambert says, conversationally. "You realize the only thing I'd ask you to with that magic as a member of the militia, right? Hurt people. Imprison them. Kill them, if I thought that's what's necessary. I didn't realize you were so bloodthirsty."

His hand stills on Celandine's fur, taking another drink before he continues. "If you want someone who can really use you, Childermass knows magic better than I do. And he thinks things through more." A tendency to caution and foresight much better developed than Lambert's own, and that contrast is probably part of how he ended up hopelessly attracted to the man in the first place.

"Why do you actually want to work for Lambert, Strange?" Celandine chimes in, watching the magician with wide, golden eyes. "You can't possibly hate the idea of listening to a servant that much." This time, with Lambert reluctant and unable to voice all his niggling doubts, she speaks sharply for them both.

[kingsroads]

It's Strange's turn to glare at Celandine. Obviously he doesn't like the implication that something as silly as Childermass's status is what bothers him.

"Do you honestly think Childermass would use me to begin with? I'm well aware that he doesn't trust me as much as I trust him." Thanks for that, secret boyfriend nonsense plus Childermass's well-documented history of not telling Strange shit.

"But you trust me," Strange remarks, gesturing with the now mostly empty bottle. He's obviously a little bit wasted. "And I trust you in return. And though you and the Ringmaster seem to forget it, I've always been a soldier. I've fought in the peninsula and I've worked well with the Nightrunners ever since I arrived here. My quarrel is with magic that can bind people against their will, not with murder. I can kill if needed."

I almost killed you, Strange thinks, before biting back the words. Instead, he takes another large drink from the bottle he's holding.

[whattaprick]

"Like you would've killed me," Lambert says, completing the thought helpfully, ignoring whatever semblance of a touching moment could have been there.

"Which is another problem. People still keeps getting their damn heads taken over with magic, and we still don't know a way to make it stop. If you want a problem to fix, fix that." He scowls at the ceiling. But the conversation is reminding him of something else, and he abruptly snorts.

"You sound like Foster." Now there's someone he hasn't thought of in a while, the man apparently having chosen to continue his service to the Carnival another time ... or something. Lambert's never sure about the details on the sudden departures here.

"You keep asking to be used, but you've obviously got your own ideas how you want to be used. So why don't you just tell me what those are?" he gestures.

[kingsroads]

Ew, gross. Strange wrinkles his nose at the Foster comparison, obviously a bit disgusted with that. But fine. If Lambert wants to know how Strange thinks he best can be used, he'll tell him.

"You already know that I can fight. You also know I'm one of the most powerful magicians in the carnival." As much as Strange would like to say that he is the most powerful, he knows the Ringmaster exists.

"Let me use my magic in an active fashion, something more than checking who's here via scrying or explaining to people things that they were too lazy to figure out themselves." Because Strange is well aware that most of his knowledge about the fae has been gotten from simply talking to people. Anyone can do that.

"And if you'd rather I play a more supporting role, then fine. I can move people and items through reflections or I can change the terrain of a fight to something more in our favor. As for the problem of people being enthralled, I can dispel magic. But none of this magic will be any use to the carnival if I'm not there on the field with you."

[whattaprick]

“You can do all those things without actually being part of the Carnival’s fighting force,” Lambert points out. “We all pitch in when it comes down to it. The only difference is who you’re supposed to report to. Besides, I’m not so sure more power isn’t what we need when we’re up against the fae, no matter what the Ringmaster thinks. The Blue Rose was supposed to protect us, and we already know how that turned out. She can’t eat her way through all our enemies.”

Funny as it would be to we her try.

“We should learn from the past, not keep trying to repeat it,” Celandine agrees. “And all of what you said means working with people, not running ahead on your own. You decided you didn’t want a conversation with Ignatius being listened to, even when we asked. We’re glad you told us, but when will be the next time you choose not to listen?” She shakes her head and curls into a tighter ball on Lambert’s lap, her next words muttered incomprehensibly into the fur of her tail.

[kingsroads]

"Of course we need more power," Strange responds, trying to keep his voice level. "But more than that, we need to know what power we have and use it wisely. That's the only reason you all were able to save me in the library." Because they knew about the power of the Athenaeum, because they knew about that magic at their disposal and used it in a smart manner.

"How will you all know if I can work with people if I'm stuck behind with books? How can we use my magic wisely if nobody trusts me to help to begin with?"

Because that's the big problem at the heart of it. Strange feels like he isn't trusted. Hell, how many people thought he was still brainwashed when he revived after his death? And while the Ringmaster might say she removed him from the nightrunners because he shouldn't be a soldier, Strange believes she removed him because she couldn't trust him to keep everyone safe.

[whattaprick]

“What does trust mean to you, Strange?” Lambert asks, frowning. “You said you trust me, but ... why? Why should you think I should supervise you? I couldn’t even kill you when you asked me to. I torture people because that’s what I know how to do.”

He exhales, short and sharp. “At least give working with Acquisitions a real shot before you write it off completely. Ask Childermass about some of these ideas. He might surprise you.”

[kingsroads]

This is a stupid question. And Strange frowns at Lambert like he's not entirely sure why Lambert's asking this question in the first place.

"You should supervise me because you're good at it." That's Strange's answer and he's saying it like it's the most matter-of-fact thing in creation. "You know how to organize a group, you know everybody's strengths and weaknesses, and you're a better leader than half the carnival."

And, unlike Childermass, there's not any of that baggage of sharing the same England between him and Lambert.

[whattaprick]

Lambert stares back like he's not entirely sure how Strange isn't sure why Lambert's asking this question in the first place.

"You know that's not saying much considering who half the Carnival is, right?" Lambert's lip quirks. He can't say the Ringmaster has high standards.

"Have you ever doubted yourself, Strange? Even once?" Celandine asks, wryly.

[kingsroads]

Strange is trying. Strange is really, really trying. Obviously he's doubted himself some. He's had to, that's how these things work. But most of Strange's instances of doubting himself were less of doubting himself and more of doubting his magic. Sure, he's not entirely sure if he can move an entire forest or if he can put a sunken ship upright. But he's going to try anyway.

"Don't tell me you doubt yourself," Strange remarks, with a frown, completely ignoring Celandine's question to ask one of his own. "Because if I may be blunt, that's silly. You've proven yourself time and time again that you're a good nightrider. I wouldn't be trying to rejoin if I thought otherwise—and hell, people like Jasper or Susan wouldn't be trying to join in the first place if they thought otherwise."

[whattaprick]

"I'm rather sure you want to rejoin because you don't like the idea of being kicked off," Celandine points out smartly, but Lambert forces a laugh and shakes his head.

"You're right, though. It's silly." Obviously, Strange isn't going to get this ... and Lambert, right now, isn't inclined to try to make him.

"So how about we stop talking about it?" He shakes his bottle at Strange for emphasis. "I've got more where this came from."

A lot more, as it turns out. They don't tap into the faerie ale, and Lambert has no ambrosia, but of witcher alcohol, there is plenty. Childermass doesn't show up to interrupt the proceedings, either because he's occupied with his own preparations or because he took a look through the shadows and decided he wasn't dealing with two idiots drunk off their ass.

But there's something very important Lambert needs to remember, something he struggles to hold onto as much as his ability to stay upright. He grabs Strange and shakes his shoulder.

"Th'contract," he slurs unevenly. "Should burn it... 'fore we forget again."