wedonot | TWENTY THREE ✖ SPAM/TEXT

[Open Spam for the Pub]

[Charles didn't spend much time in here. Really, ever since he'd become, for all intents and purposes, the guardian of three young adults, Charles hadn't really indulged much in anything that could be considered irresponsible, which was fairly different from how he'd spent his life before meeting Moira in the bar in Oxford. When he hadn't been working on his thesis, a fair amount of time had been spent in different pubs, wooing women and generally not really acting like an adult who was working to be a professor of genetics.

But tonight he found himself deciding he needed a change in scenery, and he needed a drink, because sitting around in his room doing nothing was doing himself no good. Between the conversation with Wanda and the ethical questions it raised and Morgana killing Merlin, he didn't really know what to do with himself, because he couldn't go for a run, he didn't want to talk to Erik (not yet anyway), and he wasn't sure if he wanted to be around people, or to be alone.

So he is just letting himself in, helping himself to some Scotch and will be sitting off by himself thinking a bit nostalgically to a time where the only responsibility he had was making sure Raven kept out of trouble, and trying to ignore the fact that he hadn't seen or talked to his sister since the beach, and that had been almost nine months ago.]

[Private to Erik, a while later]

If you're not busy, I wouldn't mind some company up in the pub.

[ooc: MULTIPLES ARE WELCOME FOR THE SPAM I forgot to mention it earlier sorry about that. Gimme all your cr. c:]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Charles honestly would have been content to spend the rest of his night nursing the bottle of scotch, and there's still a part of him that's saying he should really put his foot down before he becomes more of an enabler than he already is, but that was getting a little drown out by the rebellious part of him that was insisting that the responsible part of him just shut the hell up for this one night.]

Do you?

[Giving into the rebellion is what Tony is all about. Honestly, he never grew out of it. Here he is forty years old, and still partying like it was twenty years ago. Screw the consequences. His liver is practically immortal and his heart is run by an endless energy source.

Which is why he's grinning, looking practically evil about it, and moving away, leaning over the bar to whoever's pouring drinks right now, chatting and ordering two quick drinks before coming right back over, shoving one into Charles' hands.]

Everclear. I'm pretty sure it'll do the trick.

Thanks. [Charles accepts the drink, studies it for a moment, and allows the rational and logical parts of his mind to debate this and whine about how he should really just have one more scotch - if that - for another few seconds before effectively saying fuck it and taking a drink.

Happy now?]

[He is definitely going to be grabbing that glass before Charles actually finishes it because Everclear? It goes down hot, sits there, and then knocks you on your ass by the time you've forgotten you even drank it.

... Yeah, he's definitely happy.]

You have a reason behind not letting go? [Because in Tony's mind? Everyone should do that at least once in a while. Or once a week. Or once every two days. Or once a night. Or all the time.]

Because my telepathy's a bit harder to control when I'm drunk, and I prefer to remain professional while we're on board here, especially considering we never know what new hell we're going to be thrown into tomorrow.

[And while he does miss a life of relative lack of responsibility, he isn't really missing it enough to want to turn into a drunken frat boy on the Barge.]

That- [Here, Charles, have the other drink he brought over shoved into your hands as a replacement. It's cold and fruity enough to hide the full taste of the pretty strong stuff Tony injected into it.] -is your main problem. People aren't hard-wired to be serious all the time. It just stresses you out until you can't function anymore. That's why the biggest and brightest cave to the pressure and end up cracking and wrapped up neatly in straight jackets thinking they're still lounging in the Bahamas.

So consider this me telling you to stop being professional for a night and just drink. God, you're like Rhodey. Strict regiment and appearance, when all you need is to let go, get drunk, and rant it out for a few hours. Trust me. I know what I'm doing.

[Charles gave him a Look for that last statement. He was more incredulous than anything else, maybe a little teasing, because seriously, Tony, then why are you the inmate, here.]

Do you?

[Some day, Charles, he'll be years sober, he'll have his life back under control. He'll be able to look his reflection in the eye, he'll be able to look at a situation and not see his own death as the only possible outcome.

Some day he'll get there, and then he'll look back at moments like this, grinning punch drunk and shoving alcohol at people who are hurting, upset, because all he knows is how to bury and let go. To suppress in one of the most unhealthy ways imaginable. He'll look back and he'll cringe.

But that day is definitely not today.]

If they offered degrees in drinking techniques, I'd teach every class. So yeah. I do.

[Charles decides to let the argument drop. He's really not in the mood to bicker about this, or anything, really right now, and so he just does his best to keep his mental shields intact, even as the alcohol begins to really kick in.

He's not a sloppy drunk, can be really articulate, actually, but it's still an effort to block the minds of everyone else, or to focus in on the one in front of him, if need be, so he tries to just focus on Tony for now, some of the annoyance dropping from his expression.]

I suppose that would be an interesting thing to add to a resume.

[That's something they have in common, then. Articulation in times of utter inebriation. God, Tony's given lectures he doesn't even remember while drunk off his ass, and still wins awards for them. Still, he just grins as Charles starts to finally relax, even going so far as to give him an exaggerated wink]

Tony Stark is all I ever need to have on a resume.

TWENTY THREE ✖ SPAM/TEXT

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]

[Spam]