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]

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."

[kingsroads]

Celandine's correct. But before Strange gets into yet another argument, Lambert changes the subject. He's right, after all. Talking about all this can happen later, when they don't have the threat of Eden hanging over their heads.

Strange knows that it's absolutely hopeless to try and match Lambert shot for shot thanks to his stupid witcher constitution. So, he's drinking enough to get drunk, but (hopefully) not enough that he'll be vomiting out of a window again. He's downing the last of some of Lambert's disgusting witcher alcohol when the other man mentions the contract. Right. Yeeeeah, they should get rid of that thing.

"It's in my trailer," Strange complains. "And I don't wanna walk." There's a pause before he decides, "We'll just write a new one saying that the old one's...null and void? That it won't work anymore."

A perfect idea. Nothing can go wrong! And thankfully, Strange brought his contract quill along with him. Unfortunately, it's stuck in the mirror on his shoulder. So don't mind Strange as he straight up starts unbuttoning his shirt. Now that he's figured out how to use his mirrored scars for inventory, it's obvious that Strange is taking full advantage of that. His creepy wife gem reflects from the mirror right above Strange's heart, while the contract quill and a spare pencil reflect from the mirror on his right shoulder.

[whattaprick]

"So take us to your trailer. Isn't that what magic's for?" Lambert rolls his eyes. Childermass takes him around all the time! It turns out magic's great when you have a magician for a boyfriend.

He reaches out to prod Strange in the shoulder, fully intending to give him further shit about it, but then he starts actually undressing and--

"The fuck?" Lambert enunciates, slowly. And then, in the true spirit of drunken bad ideas, he's going to reach over and poke a finger right into the reflection on Strange's chest.

[kingsroads]

Congrats Lambert: you have successfully poked Strange on the chest. His finger hits solid mirror before Strange looks over and gives Lambert a grin.

"I've got to open up the reflections myself. It'd be stupid if anything could just fall in there." Strange murmurs a few words under his breath before reaching into the mirrors on his chest and pulling out the wife gem.

"There," Strange grins, "go poke my chest again." If Lambert does so, then his fingers will slip right through the mirror into a bizarre, cold-feeling void.

[whattaprick]

Lambert eyes Strange's chest warily, then reaches out to touch him again -- and when the material gives way under his fingers, his eyes widen.

So clearly, the next course of action is to shove his whole hand in, up to the wrist.

"This is weird," he says, decisively. He wiggles his fingers absently, just to make sure he can still feels them, then proceeds to keep pushing his hand in, groping around inside Strange's chest to see if he can feel anything.

"Can you even feel this?" he asks, distractedly.

[kingsroads]

There's a few limits to Lambert shoving his hand in Strange's chest. He's limited by the boundaries of the reflection: Lambert can't move his hand or his fingers past the border of where the large, jagged mirrored scar on Strange's chest is. However, he can shove his hand in as deep as he wants. There's no trace of pain in Strange's expression, just a wide grin that plainly states he thinks this shit is cool as hell.

"I don't," Strange responds, obviously about to go on a big ol'nerdy tear. "You're not shoving your hand inside my chest, you're shoving your hand inside the reflection. I can't really feel the reflection, not normally, but I know when something's there due to the magic."

There's a pause before Strange continues, with a grin, "Stick your sword in there. Point first! It'll actually fit that way."

Why yes, Strange figured that out by shoving daggers in his chest and pencils in his eye, what made you guess that?

[whattaprick]

Guess who's got two thumbs and is only half-listening to the explanation as he keeps wiggling around in there? Lambert is.

"No way," he says, definitively. "You know how hard it is to find a decent silver sword around here? I don't want to lose another one."

"Have you tried putting food in there?" Celandine chimes in, her own words slurry. "Does it go bad after a while, or does it just stay the same? Oooh, maybe you should start keeping wine in there! Is it cold, Lambert?"

[kingsroads]

"No, you can't lose it," Strange tries to explain, despite the fact that they're both drunk and Lambert isn't paying attention. "It's in the reflection. The only way you'd lose it is if the reflection was broken."

So if someone somehow managed to shatter the mirrors in his chest. Strange awkwardly sways slightly, thanks to all the alcohol before he turns his attention to Celandine.

"I've figured out how to store living things in reflections as well." RIP a few animals on the campground, who tragically gave their lives while Strange was being the magical equivalent of a mad scientist. As he's talking, he's staring at Celandine, mad grin on his face. It is entirely obvious that Strange kind of wants to shove Lambert's soul into his chest. "Of course, I haven't stored anything that can tell me how it feels. Reflections large enough for people were scarce on the campgrounds and most animals don't talk back."

Most animals. Still kind of creepily staring at Celandine over here.

[whattaprick]

Celandine is about as drunk as Lambert is, so she doesn't notice him looking at her all too creepily, even as Lambert withdraws his hand and frowns at Strange as an all too practical concern comes to mind.

"How's it supposed to get fixed if it's broken?" He demands, drunkenly. "I don't think West can stitch up a mirror."

[kingsroads]

"It'll fix itself," Strange slurs, as he very carefully leans forward towards Celandine. He knows that touching one's daemon has odd results, so he doesn't reach out to grab her or anything like that.

"If I pick at one, it grows back, like a scab over an open wound." Says the person who has undoubtedly tried to pick or peel the mirrored scars off of his wrists and failed miserably each time. "Celandine, hop on my lap and stick your head in there."

[whattaprick]

As one, Celandine and Lambert look at Strange as if he’s a bit of (a lot of) an idiot.

And then, shaking herself in something that might be a shrug, Celandine moves to hop onto Strange’s lap as directed anyway. “This is a terrible idea,” she informs him, a little slurred, but little paws get put up against Strange’s chest and she peers in anyway.