dumbshow | probably not depressing

[What's wrong with beer?? He doesn't know how to order half the drinks on the menu here without being really embarrassed. What is a "SEX WITH AN ALLIGATOR," emphatic capital letters included?

Knuckle, he can't. He really can't. If it's not a drink someone's reserved-but-still-hip-like-the-kids grandpa would order, he can't. The definitely troubled look he gives the list of drinks right about now makes that pretty clear. Seedy (and non-seedy) bars were hesitantly somewhat within his comfort zone until he had to acknowledge SEX WITH AN ALLIGATOR.]

It's not any fun when you're moody. [Knuckle is the moody one, pass it on.

Anyway he's going to make Exciting Conversation,] So, what were you up to this morning?

I'm not moody!

[He snaps that, so there goes any chance of believing that statement. He gives the bartender their order for now (since Shoot's shy or something, hell if he gets it) and then turns back to Shoot.

This lasts for about half of a second before he's looking away suspiciously.]

Huh? Why do you care about that... Doesn't matter anyway. [STOP BRINGING IT UP] Errands! I was doing errands, alright?

[He's definitely moody... Shoot's content to essentially sit there and let Knuckle do all the talking until their drinks arrive, but-

What is it now? If he had eyebrows, he'd raise them in both surprise and some vague sense of irritation, stop being so defensive.]

I'm— just talking to you. You wanted to get to know each other, so-? Are your errands a secret?

[HUMOR HIM?]

Of course not, fool!

[Yes they are. He leaves that shout as the last thing in the air for a good few seconds before he relaxes in his seat, closing his eyes in focus. He probably just looks like he's either nervous about something or about to burst out in emotion.]

Groceries, household supplies... The usual stuff! [A long pause in which he debates if leaving out things is unfair to getting to know each other.

Sigh.]

There was this lost dog, okay, and it wouldn't leave me alone! So I had to find the owner!

[It's amazing just how many animals and children just won't leave Knuckle alone. It must have nothing to do with him at all. A series of coincidences that all happen to involve Knuckle's heart being the size of a house.

Shoot pauses, then with a similar thought that maybe not saying what he honestly thinks is unfair,] You don't have to be embarrassed...

[Is that-? Will that just embarrass him even more? Then, adding quickly,] There's nothing wrong with it, I mean. You can just ask me not to tell anyone.

[... Anyone else, woops he did tell Gon that one time.]

I'm not embarrassed!

[What a liar. He slams his hands on the counter, just in time for their drinks to arrive.] Don't tell anyone, but it's not because I'm embarrassed! They'll all get the wrong idea! It's just that I wanted to get rid of him!

[He's just going to take his beer and chug it now, don't mind him.]

[For god's sake- He's about to object again, but then- no. Later, when Knuckle is crying and making speeches and toasting with his beer.

Which he anticipates and dreads.]

Okay. Okay, I won't tell. I promise.

[How's that? While he sips his beer like a normal person. And then puts it down in order to casually reach over and take his stolen coaster back. Re-steal? It's his now, is the point.

Seconds pass. Dangerously close to a full minute passes.

... What should he say now? Something- indicative of wanting to make this work, maybe-?] Can I come with you next time?

[bury him]

[That question actually makes him choke on his beer. Give him about a minute to recover, slamming the glass on the counter and hunching over it as he coughs and rubs at his mouth with an arm.

When he sits up again and stares over, he looks baffled.]

You... You want to go with me? [Let him just get over this first.]

[Stop that, christ. Shoot's on the fast track to becoming more annoyed than embarrassed- defensively? Maybe. But stop.]

Yes. [There.] If you don't want me to come, I won't.

I thought it might be—nice. To do something together besides drink. I couldn't do anything while I was in the hospital, and- visiting must have been...

[What is he doing, stop him, just shut him up and let him feed dogs. That's friendship, right? This isn't too forward?? He coughs, looking aside to frown at his beer.]

So?

Edited 2015-01-15 14:43 (UTC)

What the hell are you saying, of course I want you to!

[Ah, he blurts that out before he can stop to think about it. And then he's going stiff, scooping up his beer again and burying his mouth into it. His mumbles can be heard from the glass.]

We can hang out whenever you want, idiot...

[He's decided. He's going to get drunk out of his mind and regret nothing. And possibly remember nothing.]

[Finally, it's out there in the world... that they enjoy (??) each other's company (???). Shoot busies himself with his own beer, too, just in case he's making a humiliating face.]

You're calling me an idiot again? Come on... [Still having a fine time, this is bonding. He actually feels less awkward now that they've busted through that more awkward than ever before obstacle, and it shows in small ways; less tension on his face, not looking like he'll bolt at any second now, things like that.

Good job, Knuckle. He's let loose. This is it.]

Let's take turns ordering drinks. [that's fun???] I already started with the beer, so- your turn.

I'm calling you an idiot cuz you're an idiot! Stop hassling me!

[Oh my god just let him get over this embarrassing moment in peace!! He downs the rest of his beer and slams that down just in time for that proposition. His surprise lasts a fraction of a second before he's grinning a little more slyly, leaning closer to shoot and nudging him with an elbow.]

Hey, wait, so does that mean I'll order for both of us? [Is this a Fun Game or a Lame Game.]

[HASSLING, he is not. Shoot capitalizes on the moment Knuckle is chugging his drink to roll his eyes, just a little- please, Knuckle.]

Yeah, that's what I meant. [As much as this could go down SEX WITH AN ALLIGATOR roads fairly quickly. But wait, he suddenly has an even dorkier idea-]

—Word chain. [there it is, delivered very seriously] Pick something that starts with 'R'.

Alllllllright!

[You can bet he rolled the hell out of that, suddenly pumped. This is a fun game. A fun game that Shoot suggested!! Looking devious, he flags down the bartender.]

Two red headed sluts for me and my buddy, here! [Yeah, Shoot asked for this.]

[Whoa, he didn't want to have that much fun. Just the name of the drink makes color rise to his cheeks, christ Knuckle— being more ridiculous than the previous name isn't part of the rules!! He'll order a, a, a tonic if he feels like it. When it's his turn.

When the drinks are placed in front of them he looks at his a little uncertainly, but he'll still drink it... And ask this really nerdy thing, speaking of rules:]

'T' or 'S'? We'll go nowhere fast if we have to count 'S'. [Plurals!!!]

It's 'T', naturally.

[Naturally, he says, drawing his new horribly named drink closer and leaning over the bar a bit more.]

No tenses, no plurals, nothing like that. [Hah, that rule is bunched as one, it counts!!] No similarly named drinks, either. And they can't be generic.

[Ah, the "can't be generic" rule designed solely to ruin his life, he's sure.]

"Similarly named"...? [He looks at his awful drink as he takes another sip; how many different hair colored sluts are there, exactly??] I didn't say you should make up a bunch of other rules on the spot.

[Unfair. Now he needs one that's suitably annoying to add-]

Nothing you make up and claim is a real drink, either.

Hey, hey, hey, these aren't rules I'm just pulling out of nowhere! If I wanted, I could add points to each drink, making it a point based system as well as a word game...

[But he resisted, see. He pats Shoot's shoulder.]

All the drinks have to be recognized by this bartender, then! That shouldn't be a problem, seeing as he's the best in town.

[Shoot actually gives him a stern look for that one; don't make this a math game. Don't. Other people don't enjoy making everything into math games, that's just you. He shrugs off the pat, too.]

I wouldn't play if you added a point system. The idea is to drink, not to win. [because he would lose, BUT WHATEVER, he's already losing with this slutty drink] In that case—

[He looks Very Seriously at the list of weird drinks, because he needs it, and he'll just order in advance a couple of-] Tie— [oh, now he's read the rest, and just barely manages to choke out the rest, more than a little red-faced] Tie me to the bed... post?

[He had hoped T would be a tricky one to follow, honestly. No one would use a drink starting with 'the', right?? But Shoot finds one just perfect, and Knuckle is glad he's already set his earlier drink down so that his uproarious laughter can make its way out without him choking on alcohol.

Really, he's really finding this hilarious. Gripping his stomach and slamming his hand on the counter and everything.]

Nice one, Shoot! Drink up to that!

[There's nothing Shoot wants to do more than vaporize on the spot for a good couple seconds after that. Unlike some people, though, the bartender at least can act like his tangible discomfort is not even there and prepare some horrendous drinks without comment.

Unlike some people. Shoot turns to look at Knuckle, despairing before his expression changes to something between annoyed and determined and he knocks back almost the whole of the rest of his drink in one go. He blinks rapidly a few times, wondering what exactly that was supposed to help-

He assumed it was going to help, somehow- it burned a little?]

Knuckle— I don't even know what's in most of these.

[What did he just chug, for example? "Boring beer guy" Shoot is unprepared.]

[He's finished with his red headed slut by the time the next one comes out, but he has to pause to watch Shoot chug down his. Whoa. That's the most he's seen him drink at once-- actually, this is the most he's seen him drink at all. Right? Probably.

His counting is horrible when he's drunk.]

In them? Who cares? [What a weird thing to ask. He lifts his, waving it under Shoot's nose a little as he offers a sly grin. Ah, the signs are clear-- the slight curl up at the corners of his lips, the more relaxed slouch over the counter-- Knuckle is already enjoying his alcohol.]

They taste good and their names are funny as hell. [Now, he drinks, for a good few seconds before he sets it down with a gasp.]

Ahhh, but you've left me with a 'T' again! That's not any fun.

[See, this is why the math game was a bad idea. Glad he made that clear.]

I'm curious- [Hi, Knuckle and Knuckle's drink. Shoot makes a face, not sure whether to direct it at the drink or Knuckle himself, so he'll just glance between them both until the drink's taken away.

Ah, yes, the telltale signs of Knuckle pre-utter and unabashed drunkenness. Not that Shoot's the picture of sobriety after drinking the slut (rip) so quickly, but he's less of an obvious slouch mainly because he's concentrating pretty hard on seeming less filled with alcohol.

All he's eaten today is hospital breakfast— that suddenly seems like a mistake, too many hours and a skipped lunch ago to fix it. Might as well see what this bedpost concoction is like, tentatively...]

Think of it as a challenge. [siiip] Don't give up two turns in.

No one said anything about giving up, fool!

[How many times has he called Shoot a fool this log?? Too many. And yet, he continues, sipping at the second half of this bed post thing a little slower. Too fast and he'll just get sick. You've got to balance, balance!]

I've got one in mind already. But I'll save it for when we're both done. I don't need you passing out on the ground right here. [As if he's one to talk.] Say, Shoot, isn't this way more than you're already used to? Come to think of it, I don't really know if you're a light weight or not...

[He never paid attention. And right now this seems okay to admit.]

[Thanks for the balancing advice before he downed that whole drink... No, he should have known. He's losing his cred as the one with the capacity for logical decisions, here.

Which is probably a direct result of the alcohol, oops. He's still making a very intense effort to look totally, 100% sober.]

How would you know? You and Morel drink too fast to remember anything every time. [He's so used to this much liquor? Surely.] I'm just fine.

[To prove it, he takes another considerable sip of the bedpost, then has to put it down a little too abruptly so his arm is free to lean on the bar, so that he doesn't wobble suspiciously.

Just fine!!]

verily

SEX WITH AN ALLIGATOR

there's nothing i can say here that wouldn't shame me even more

cackles

no subject

no subject

no subject

all these icons I made and they're all too intense

mine are all the same angrysad face, i get you

Grips shoulder

describes shoot not being sad or angry, icon still mildly panicked

lFMLDFGMDSF HAHAHA sounds legit tbh

i could hit random icon and it wouldn't make a difference

meanwhile if I did that he'd be WAY TOO ANGRY

gdi knuckle

no subject

no subject

emerges from 1999 hell for one last tag

imagine knuckleshoot 1999

oh my god

rip knuckleshoot

imagine knuckle's triangle

a cool ranch dorito instead of original flavor

chOKES cool ranch is a great flavor dorito so that's acceptable

i've never had doritos but i probably wouldn't like them, hmm