dumbshow | probably not depressing

[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!!]

What? I remember things just fine! [That's a lie. He can't even remember forgetting them right now?? Something like that. He sips at his drink while watching Shoot struggle a little too much there, and it's not clear if he registers this or not.]

There's no way you'd be a quiet drunk, too... [He'S SERIOUSLY CONSIDERING THIS OKAY. Ah, but it looks like his drink is done! He's fast, and even if he said he'd wait for both of them to be done, it doesn't matter if Shoot is, too. He hits the counter again.]

Next, Three Wise Men, one for each of us! [Look, he broke the 'T' chain, too!]

[Shoot turns his head to boggle a little, at that. No way he'd-? Why is he being psychoanalyzed while they're both slowly but surely approaching their liquor limits. Or at least he is. Knuckle isn't an oversized twig, so that probably contributes just as much as Shoot not downing mixed drinks in quick succession very often.

But he's definitely fine. It takes him a moment to straighten up again to nurse the rest of this drink- no, he's not done, stop going ahead.]

Why are you thinking so hard about this...? [About his drunkenness habits, that is. Just wait a little while longer.

And here comes the next drink-] Oh, it's small.

[help him]

Hahahaha!

[From loud laughter to soft chuckling, he fades out, lifting his own shot experimentally.]

It's a shot! Shoot. [It's begun.] Shot. Just uh, don't sip at it like you've been doing. Tilt your head back and knock it down in one gulp!

[Wait wait, he has to finish this one first- just a little more—]

Stop that. [That thing. He trades the empty glass for the shot, looking at it like he'd rather just sip it... but there's hardly anything in it.

Well, since he feels like he's about to wobble again and drop this everywhere, he'll just go for it and gulp it down. A moment later he coughs, realizing this was the exact opposite of helping his wobbling condition. Wow, that— was genuinely unpleasant the whole way down. He puts the glass down and coughs again.]

Don't order any more of those.

[He sort of laughs at that, but it comes out like a muffled snort into the counter. His shaking gives him away. He's going to order more. He'll order more and claim he forgot!!!]

What's the matter, you can't take it? Huh? [Sitting up again, he wobbles briefly and snatches up his shot glass, downing it in one go. Ah, it seems he can take it without coughing.]

[If he had an arm to spare he'd push Knuckle for laughing again, but alas, he can only frown at him not choking on shots. What's that like?]

It burned and it tasted horrible. [Hmph!! He turns back to the bar, to consider drinks that start with N and he sways only a little. Relatively. It's noticeable.]

Is a "Neon Iguana" small? [beat] It's too bad Mele- [words] Meleoron isn't here.

[See, because... he's a lizard, and- shut up.]

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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

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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

ehHHH they're ok

tostitos on the other hand

i forgot those are a thing

what the fuck

shut up

ok