[Would, if it's possible, if it ever comes to be. But who gives a damn about specifics right now, yeah? It's time for magnanimous promises, and futures that might never come to be.
A little loosely, he lets his head fall to the side as he considers her question.]
Erm. Well, Edgeworth. Obviously. If he wanted, he might turn me down. And you, which I've already said. Congratulations. And... I dunno.
[There's others. But would they want to go? And Remus, if he could take Remus back with him, before it all went to shit--]
[Really, Sally, you are very special. It's just that Sirius doesn't always think of the fact that what a girl wants to hear is not 'yes let's go on a getaway you and my best mate'. Even when he's totally sober, he doesn't always have that thought. (See: his intense relationship with James 'probably you can live in a shed in the garden Sirius don't worry' Potter.)
Anyways. Motorbikes! Loads more important.]
No, no, I've got a broomstick as well. Actually, I've got a few. But I got a motorbike when I was seventeen, when my Uncle Alphard died, and left me all of his gold. And got blasted off of the family tree for it. Brilliant. Motorbike and flat, and-- gifts, to the Potters, for putting up with a second bloody son that they'd never asked for.
[a.k.a, Sirius, which he sort of gets at by knocking the bottle against his chest, vaguely, before he takes another sip.]
God, you had an actual ~family tree~? That's intense. Mine was pretty much just 'what happens, happens', like 'oh I think your mom had two sisters, or maybe it was three? And you've probably got some cousins somewhere, who even knows'.
[A little pained, he shuts his eyes, lets his head loll back.]
No, I wish it was as unfocused as yours. There's definitely a family tree. Loads of memorisation involved. Hierarchies, ancestral names, inheritances, titles, patriarchs, careful preservation of pure blood. The whole bit. Toujours Pur.
Wow. That blows, like - super blows. I don't know about you, but I, I'd be totally fine with getting burned the hell off a tree like that.
[ she snags the bottle from him now, but so far she's just eyeing it contemplatively instead of drinking more. which is probably well enough for now, considering everything's really starting to swim already. ]
[Far from it. He gives over the bottle without protest, as his reluctance to keep up this conversation starts to filter in through the numb of the alcohol. Whatever; he rubs his wrist over his mouth, once, rough, and then shifts so he can fumble for his lighter in his pocket, still with one arm around Sally.]
Anyways. Doesn't matter. What's the name of Kennex's murderous-- skank.
Odessa. [ the same murderous skank who sally was a gigantic idiot and freaking outed herself to during that stupid nanite plague. but she's not gonna point that one out, considering sirius was the one to pretty much tell her how idiotic it was at the time. his head's big enough without another win on his record. ]
[He presses his index finger to his temple, a physical gesture for 'committing this to permanent memory'.]
Now the only question is, should I stick her bedsheets permanently to her bed, or change the water of her next shower so it colours her hair bright green? Or should I keep working, 'cos I bet the more I drink, the cleverer I'll get on this one.
[don't worry, too excited for revenge to be laboring over any connections.]
[ she busts out grinning despite herself, her head rolling back a little clumsily to look up at him. ] Don't say that, now I want to hear it. [ it. them. whatever the cleverer ideas are. she wants them, she can't resist. ]
[He says it more fondly than judgmentally. They're of like minds, him and Sally--and he's more than happy to elaborate. With a sigh:]
We could... hex her eyebrows onto her upper lip. Moustache her. We could hide the door to her room. We could turn her shoes to mice. Go on, you give me some, now--
But that's-, that's stupid stuff. [ she isn't trying to say the ideas are stupid, she's just had too much to drink to properly articulate that if it has the potential to cause any kind of laughter but sally's and sirius's, it's barking up the wrong tree in a big way. ]
Like... [ give her a second... but not more than a second. it's almost like she had this ready just for the occasion. ] Like, hey - you ever heard of 'blue waffle'?
uses this icon just 4 u as reward for blue waffle discussion rp
[He laughs, at her dismissal--stupid stuff, how wounding--and he fumbles to clap at least one hand over his heart, struck right down to the core over that one.]
That's not very nice--and here I thought we were meant to be friends, not-- backstabbing, ins... [Wwwwwait okay she's talking, and he tries to put those words together in some way that makes sense, in a revengey context...] What, like-- waffles, that-- No?
It's... a condition? A woman one. Certain specific areas look... blue, I guess, and... [ words are failing her. it's that kind of bad. ]
God, I don't know, can't you just - [ she extends a hand just a little to mime swishing a wand, putting on a terrible drunken british accent. ] Accio blue waffle! And then, like, take a good look at whatever flies in that door. [ a beat in which her hand drops and her nose scrunches thoughtfully. ] Or I guess whatever runs into the door like 'let me iiiin' except, like, squishy and wet.
[None of these words are making sense together and for once Sirius thinks it's probably not a drunk issue, an American English versus English English issue, or a wizard-to-muggle translation issue. Right? It can't be. What the hell is she-- what could that-- woman and specific areas and blue and squishy and wet and Sirius look of confusion is very, very quickly becoming a look of abject horror.]
Make-- what pro-- what? [sweet merlin's tits] Are you saying-- blue?
[ she can't help it - between the look on his face and his stammering disbelief, sally busts up laughing now, her head dropping back against his shoulder. once she has that back under control (which is difficult, she's biting her lip a little to keep from cracking up again), her head rolls to one side so she can look at him. ]
God, don't look so traumatized. It's not like it's your vag.
Merlin, no, but-- that's awful. That can't be real. That's not real, is it?
[because, whAT the FUCk. He stares into the middle distance, still momentarily transfixed in horror. Even when he shakes his head again, briskly, it does nothing to dislodge the image that he never wanted nor asked for. Merlin's beard.]
Please tell me you're having me on. Or, better yet, tell me you can do just enough magic to wipe that memory out of my head. Sally. Please.
Oh, it's totally real. Josh and Aidan, they worked at a hospital, right? I haunted the crap out of both of them, when I was dead and all that. Let me tell you, I've seen some shit. Real shit. 100% genuine.
[ she feels like she's telling a kid that santa doesn't exist. or like, that he exists but he shows up to rip off your balls and eat them raw with a side salad of your parents' intestines. ]
[no but girl parts are supposed to be nice why this why horror why this
a few moments more of silent horror, as he tries to add all of this new knowledge into his understanding of the world. It isn't easy. And people think wizards are mad. At least they haven't got to worry about blue bits, all--
[It comes out a little flat, because she's got her hand on his eyes and a bit of said hand is pressing against his nose, just a bit--but he makes no move to correct it. He might actually be grateful.]
I'm going to have nightmares. Bloody awful nightmares, of-- [nooooope nope nope nope doesn't bear thinking about or talking about, nope--] Merlin.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Would, if it's possible, if it ever comes to be. But who gives a damn about specifics right now, yeah? It's time for magnanimous promises, and futures that might never come to be.
A little loosely, he lets his head fall to the side as he considers her question.]
Erm. Well, Edgeworth. Obviously. If he wanted, he might turn me down. And you, which I've already said. Congratulations. And... I dunno.
[There's others. But would they want to go? And Remus, if he could take Remus back with him, before it all went to shit--]
Have I told you about my flying motorbike?
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Of course there's a flying motorbike. Brooms or whatever would obviously be way too cliche.
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Anyways. Motorbikes! Loads more important.]
No, no, I've got a broomstick as well. Actually, I've got a few. But I got a motorbike when I was seventeen, when my Uncle Alphard died, and left me all of his gold. And got blasted off of the family tree for it. Brilliant. Motorbike and flat, and-- gifts, to the Potters, for putting up with a second bloody son that they'd never asked for.
[a.k.a, Sirius, which he sort of gets at by knocking the bottle against his chest, vaguely, before he takes another sip.]
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[A little pained, he shuts his eyes, lets his head loll back.]
No, I wish it was as unfocused as yours. There's definitely a family tree. Loads of memorisation involved. Hierarchies, ancestral names, inheritances, titles, patriarchs, careful preservation of pure blood. The whole bit. Toujours Pur.
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[ she snags the bottle from him now, but so far she's just eyeing it contemplatively instead of drinking more. which is probably well enough for now, considering everything's really starting to swim already. ]
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[Far from it. He gives over the bottle without protest, as his reluctance to keep up this conversation starts to filter in through the numb of the alcohol. Whatever; he rubs his wrist over his mouth, once, rough, and then shifts so he can fumble for his lighter in his pocket, still with one arm around Sally.]
Anyways. Doesn't matter. What's the name of Kennex's murderous-- skank.
[Not a familiar word.]
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[He presses his index finger to his temple, a physical gesture for 'committing this to permanent memory'.]
Now the only question is, should I stick her bedsheets permanently to her bed, or change the water of her next shower so it colours her hair bright green? Or should I keep working, 'cos I bet the more I drink, the cleverer I'll get on this one.
[don't worry, too excited for revenge to be laboring over any connections.]
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[He says it more fondly than judgmentally. They're of like minds, him and Sally--and he's more than happy to elaborate. With a sigh:]
We could... hex her eyebrows onto her upper lip. Moustache her. We could hide the door to her room. We could turn her shoes to mice. Go on, you give me some, now--
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Like... [ give her a second... but not more than a second. it's almost like she had this ready just for the occasion. ] Like, hey - you ever heard of 'blue waffle'?
uses this icon just 4 u as reward for blue waffle discussion rp
[He laughs, at her dismissal--stupid stuff, how wounding--and he fumbles to clap at least one hand over his heart, struck right down to the core over that one.]
That's not very nice--and here I thought we were meant to be friends, not-- backstabbing, ins... [Wwwwwait okay she's talking, and he tries to put those words together in some way that makes sense, in a revengey context...] What, like-- waffles, that-- No?
that fuckin hair
It's... a condition? A woman one. Certain specific areas look... blue, I guess, and... [ words are failing her. it's that kind of bad. ]
God, I don't know, can't you just - [ she extends a hand just a little to mime swishing a wand, putting on a terrible drunken british accent. ] Accio blue waffle! And then, like, take a good look at whatever flies in that door. [ a beat in which her hand drops and her nose scrunches thoughtfully. ] Or I guess whatever runs into the door like 'let me iiiin' except, like, squishy and wet.
[ ...
............ ]
Or we could just make it prolapse.
8]
happening]
What?
[None of these words are making sense together and for once Sirius thinks it's probably not a drunk issue, an American English versus English English issue, or a wizard-to-muggle translation issue. Right? It can't be. What the hell is she-- what could that-- woman and specific areas and blue and squishy and wet and Sirius look of confusion is very, very quickly becoming a look of abject horror.]
Make-- what pro-- what? [sweet merlin's tits] Are you saying-- blue?
[No wait--]
You're having me on.
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God, don't look so traumatized. It's not like it's your vag.
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[because, whAT the FUCk. He stares into the middle distance, still momentarily transfixed in horror. Even when he shakes his head again, briskly, it does nothing to dislodge the image that he never wanted nor asked for. Merlin's beard.]
Please tell me you're having me on. Or, better yet, tell me you can do just enough magic to wipe that memory out of my head. Sally. Please.
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[ she feels like she's telling a kid that santa doesn't exist. or like, that he exists but he shows up to rip off your balls and eat them raw with a side salad of your parents' intestines. ]
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why horror
why this
a few moments more of silent horror, as he tries to add all of this new knowledge into his understanding of the world. It isn't easy. And people think wizards are mad. At least they haven't got to worry about blue bits, all--
eurgh
but um]
Why did you go and look?
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[ she lifts a hand up to cover his eyes now. sally's not actually sure why. maybe to help him look away from the prolapsed blue vag. ]
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[It comes out a little flat, because she's got her hand on his eyes and a bit of said hand is pressing against his nose, just a bit--but he makes no move to correct it. He might actually be grateful.]
I'm going to have nightmares. Bloody awful nightmares, of-- [nooooope nope nope nope doesn't bear thinking about or talking about, nope--] Merlin.
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[--says Sirius, and shuts his eyes.]
I'm-- not drunk enough for this.
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[And there's an easy remedy to that, and that's drink more, only...
Only.]
Have you got the bottle?