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Who: John and you
When: April 13th
Where: ye olde generic yet well-patronized tavern
What: John turns 20... again. He gets treated to a penis cake. Come wish him a happy birthday and have some cake.
Warnings: none, other than phallic pastries.

At the end of the day, John is pretty used to Weird Time Shenanigans. So to be transported back in time by barely a week before his birthday doesn't really set him off course that much. A little disorienting, sure, but nothing he can't handle. It certainly helps him get settled a little, and being who he is, it doesn't take him long to get along with his coworkers. There's some pranking back and forth, a little japery, and despite his general discomforts, it all feels... pretty okay. Ish.

Okay-ish except for the part where he lets slip that his birthday is coming up again and he jokingly wonders if that makes him technically 21 since, from his perspective, it hasn't been anywhere close to a year since he last celebrated his birthday.

It doesn't really seem to matter, because some of the other guards sharing an off-shift with him take it into their own hands to drag him into town and down to the tavern, where he repeatedly denies their offers of cheap booze, and tries his best to at least seem like he's having a good time. Because it seems like they are, at least, and it's pretty nice of them to throw him a birthday party when they barely know him. Some part of him can even appreciate the birthday boy crown made out of old parchment. And even when they bring out the crudely-but-lovingly made penis-shaped cake (why though) he tries to appreciate it, though a part of him is waiting for the other shoe to drop. His prankster's gambit can only take so many hits before it's totally depleted...

"You guys really didn't have to..."

Oh, but they did. And there's just enough to go around not only for the birthday boy and his guests, but everyone else in the tavern, too.

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If word got around that John's birthday was on the horizon, the source would absolutely have been Dave. He spread that shit like wildfire, as soon as he realised what the dates had turned to. If he's good at anything, it's keeping track of time. He'll set up a goddamn sundial if he needs to, but that's not the point here.

The point is that, of anyone, Dave is really the happiest to have John here. He's been split up from him for a long time. The four years they spent in the new universe, broing it up, definitely didn't make up for that. Plus, Dave can't stand to be alone at the best of times, so one day in isolation in this place had been enough to find renewed appreciation for his best friend.

Just not enough to get him a genuinely nice gift this year. Money is tight.

Dave sets the ornate,painted-glass, tentacle-shaped dildo down in front of John. It's a relic from his hard work at Heedsworth's Fucktiques and really the only thing he could realistically purchase for John in these trying times, but it's the thought that counts.

"The more you say that, the more I want to swaddle you up in a blanket and walk you around this tavern cooing like you're some freshly born miracle baby." Dave gives John's shoulder a push, wedging his way onto the seat next to him. Very close, but totally platonic, which is the only way to be when you buy your friend a dildo for their birthday. At least it's not the only thing he got, since he has a pitcher of mead (he thinks) in his other hand and two empty, wooden mugs under his arm. He sets it all down very precisely, pouring mead into their mugs.

"I know drinking is lame and totally the opposite of a good time, but it kind of feels inappropriate for a red-blooded American boy to celebrate his fake, 21st birthday without a couple of cold ones. Only this is actually mead, since I asked the bartender for something that didn't taste like fragrant garbage and he told me that a nancy boy like me would probably drink this girly shit." He says it so matter-of factly, but his brows twitch in annoyance all the same.

Edited 2017-04-14 13:31 (UTC)

On the one hand, John is thrilled to have his best friend here. On the other hand, his friend is attending the birthday party he didn't even want (and that he's still not sure he wants...) and placing a weird phallic(?)-shaped objected in front of him. He wants very, very much to be touched. He's not as oblivious as he seems, and it doesn't take a genius to know that neither of them are in the position to be making grand gestures like buying old movie paraphernalia for each other.

"Dave." He says it in that kind of flat-but-affectionate way, like a parent trying really hard not to laugh at an inappropriate but hilarious thing their child has done. "Is this... is this some kind of troll thing? I mean, I appreciate the thought, and I know you've been spending a lot of time with Karkat and all, but that's not really my thing."

But he pushes it off to the side in a way that says Dave's not allowed to take it back, and already concocting a plan for how to hide it in the barracks. It doesn't seem safe to leave out in the open, for a myriad of reasons.

The mug Dave pours for him gets a different reaction, though. He does pick it up, and takes a sniff, wrinkling his nose a little, though he doesn't put it down.

"Are you sure about this? This smells worse than the dead things Jade brings me sometimes. It doesn't have anything weird in it, does it?"

"What happens in the new universe, stays in the universe." He says, vaguely, which is exactly what John should expect. It's true, he and Karkat had gotten pretty close, but what he has and has not done with Karkat can definitely stay back home with him.

"You're probably going to have to find the key for that padlocked little mind of yours, Egbert. You have your inhibitions all sealed up like a Mattel GirlTech password journal." He'll bridge the gap between friendly acquaintances and best goddamn friends by reaching out and giving John's noggin a soft rap with his knuckles.

"But I mean, you probably signed up for perpetual discomfort when you put on the corset." He shrugs, and he cups his hands around his drink. "This isn't a cold one at all, it's fucking warm- and.." He raises it for a sniff too, crinkling his nose. "Yeah, it smell like something Grandma thought was a good idea. But I wasted my slave wages on this trash juice so we can either muscle up and drink it or try to trade it in for some milk and cookies."

He's still going to stare down at it for a long ass time before he looks at John again. "Birthday boy honors." Which means, don't watch me choke on this trash.

"Gee, Dave, first you get me an alien dong, then something I'm not sure isn't pee, and now a guilt trip? This is the best birthday ever." But he's just ribbing and he elbows Dave none too gently, but not really in the way of actually hurting him, either.

He's got a point, though. Intentional guilt trip or not, he'd feel bad for it to go to waste. Sure, some else would gladly take it, but Dave didn't get it for them. He peers at the drink again, and figures it's now or never. He starts counting down mentally from five, and when he gets to two he just... knocks it back. While he's chugging the entire thing in one go, he's pretty okay, mostly because he's holding his breath. But as soon as he sets the empty mug down, a few seconds pass, and then he makes... a face. The face. Dave knows the one. The one all their stupid friends make, like it's some kind of universal concept set forth by Sburb that requires all players be able to make that particular face.

It's not a happy face, as he sits there with his whole face scrunched up, trying to push the taste out of his mouth like a dog that's gotten the bright idea to eat peanut butter.

After a few very long seconds, he recovers enough to give Dave an expectant look that says it's his turn now, and also to ask, "Can't we just go back to buying each other shitty movie props?"

"It's not pee. It's fermented bee jizz." He says, as if that redeems the quality of John's birthday by a considerable amount. He does feel kind of bad. Partly because he's all partied out and partly because any kind of merriment here seems to involve things that platonic friends don't generally enjoy together.

The best Dave can hope for is that, somehow, this one, single drink will make tonight fun beyond belief. Not that John really seemed to be enjoying the last couple of birthdays he had back home, anyway. Dave doesn't blame him. Things are heavy, they'll never be totally normal and now they're in another weird place and who knows how bad this will go.

But it's John's birthday, and Dave wants him to forget how garbage everything is for a little bit. If that means drinking bee jizz after watching (in horror) as John has a face journey, then he'll just have to do it.

Not to be out done, Dave needs to force himself to chug this whole thing At first, it's sweet and the taste of honey comes through, then as he swallows it, there's a weird kick that makes him scrunch his face up despite his best efforts to look normal. He licks his lips.

"This place isn't exactly rife with fake declarations of independence." He quirks a brow at John. "I guess we could get crafty. If I had more time I could have paper mached a Nic Cage head for you to get frisky with."

"No." There's no hesitation there, and John scrunches up his nose. "No, you don't have to do that. Thanks. But no thanks."

Because he doesn't really put it past Dave to do something like that ironically. John isn't willing to take the chance. But that leaves him at an impasse, and he takes a look around. His coworkers have been nice enough, but a lot of them are erring on the toasted end of tipsy, and he's still sitting here sober and being kind of a partypooper. He's had his cake, and he's eaten it too, and... jeez. He's pretty partied out.

When did he get like this?

"You want to get out of here?" He doesn't get the feeling he'll be particularly missed; besides, he's been here for a while now, and who can blame him for wanting a little quality time with his best bro? "I think they're having enough fun on their own..."

"You don't need to be all honorable. It's okay to want someone to put in the hours for a fine gift for you."

John is right, he would absolutely do it. Being told no is of little consequence in this scenario, too. If anything, it's just gasoline flicked onto the ol' shit fire.

Dave raises his brows when John suggests leaving so soon, but he doesn't question it. He had noticed that John had been enjoying birthdays less and less in later years. He mostly figured that birthdays were getting kind of same-ish. There was a lot of them, after all. It's a lot of cake and shit to deal with on a near monthly basis.

Not to mention, it's sort of symbolic of how weirdly peaceful life had become. That they could just sit around blowing out candles and dressing up. It makes you restless.

So, he doesn't argue, he takes John's prompt and he stands up. "I think they'll be disappointed when they realise you didn't eat a dick." He points out, but he's not wild on taking a slice either. Instead, he makes sure to grab that glass dildo with gusto. "Hey, don't forget this." Now he's going to press it against John's cheek.

"I'm not looking to get frisky at all, Dave. So. It's okay, really." John rolls his shoulders back just in time to have a weird tentadick shoved in his face and he half-heartedly pushes Dave's hand away as he goes to stand up. "I'm taking it with me, jeez! Just give me a second! I just have to..."

Listen. He just has to adjust his booty shorts. They do fairly well in terms of not giving him a wedgie, but he still feels the need to adjust them every now and again, to make sure he's getting optimal butt coverage. No one needs to be seeing that. With that taken care of, he reaches out to snatch the dildo from Dave (how did it even come to this...) so he can tuck it into his belt (how could this happen to him?) as he makes his way to the door.

Outside, the air feels weirdly nice, even for how exposed his skin is, and stretches his arms over his head.

"This is about as far as I planned ahead. I guess we can just wander around? I don't know where anything is here, but I don't think there's that much anyway."

The smug look on Dave's face is indication enough that he got the exact reaction he was hoping for out of John. It lasts a little while, then fades into an obscure, blank look when John fidgets with his shorts.

He's not thinking he's seeing John in a new light, but he's barely even caught a glance of John in less than his normal clothing. It's conflicting to think that he doesn't look bad in what he's wearing, but that Dave doesn't exactly want to see him in it.

Whatever. He shoots him a thumbs up when he stows away his precious dildo and follows John with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He's making his normie clothing last as long as he can, but he's already counting his pennies for some sort of Cool Guy vest and pants combo.

"There's a forest that's pretty cool. Full of the kind of obscure shit you'd see if Tim Burton were a 6 year old girl and also a fetish artist." It's gothy, pastel and full of genital shaped things, alright? "Or we can hike around the village and hassle the drunks like we're a couple of cool, young people who blend right in."

John's had enough of drunk people for one night and shakes his head. "Let's check out the forest. It can't be that bad, right?"

It was one thing to have a town full of perverts, but a forest, what was a forest going to do? Little does John know; he mostly thinks Dave is just being weird, because when isn't Dave being weird? He's been learning that even after Sburb, there are still things that can surprise him, but he can at least be positive that it's less likely to be people out there, and John's really into getting away from them for a little while. Except for his best bro, of course.

"Lead the way."

"Sounds like we're the handsome, white leads in a horror movie."

Not that it's stopping him from leading the way, at John's prompting. He's seen some weird shit in that forest, but a surprising lack of Axe Murderers. It's actually kind of peaceful, and not just because he's rolled in things that made him high out of his mind. Truly this is a beautiful place.

He leads them through the lengths of the village, which is filled with people enjoying the nightlife. Dave doesn't particularly want to partake in it either, so he's glad to head right into the beginnings of the forest.

"Do you come out this way much? Seems like you have it pretty cushy up in the castle." He seems relatively at ease with the forest, which is lit both by the moon and an eerie glow from fireflies and strange plants.

"Yeah but we don't have any token minorities to get killed first, so I think we're pretty safe."

Classic movie tropes... admittedly, some of them were not great, but all the same. He puts the thought and the village behind him, and looks forward as they start moving into the forest. It's hard to surprise him with much of anything anymore, but it is rather pretty. The weird fireflies and glowy plants remind him... well, they remind him a little of LOWAS. Strange how that works out.

"I don't get much of a chance, no. When I'm not working, I..." Don't really do much of anything. Sequesters himself somewhere quiet. "I just kind of hang around. But I don't want to go too far. If I go too far and get lost, it's not like I can fly back."

Yep. That's his excuse.

There is something familiar about the unnaturalness of it all, even if it's comfortably unlike Dave's planet. He's glad for the lack of heat and fire, really.

"You're doing the right thing, to be honest. I've gotten myself ass-backward lost in this place enough, and I'm here all the time doing shit for cash." It's much easier to send some broke loser to run around and chase mushrooms than it is to do it yourself, of course.

He kindly omits the amount of time he's spent here just rubbing one out.

"There's a pretty cool pond up ahead, if you're into that. There's also a rock Matthew Mcconaughey, in terms of both appearance and acting range." He's only really glanced at it, never getting the chance to get too close or hang around it. He remembers where it is, because there's a trail of ever-increasing pink flowers that smell amazing. Dave jerks his head in the general direction of it, then starts to walk that way anyway.

If John follows, Dave will lead them to a pond, hedged in by a vast growth of fragrant, pink flowers. There is indeed a rock, whether it resembles any actor is hard to say, but Dave will sit on it.

"I'll be the judge of any McConaughey likenesses," he mutters under his breath. Actually, he's not even sure if he still liked Matthew McConaughey or not; he hasn't had a chance to find out. It turned out though, once you grew up, you stopped liking the stupid stuff you did when you were a kid. Except for your stupid best friend. As it is, John is practically attached to Dave's hip; he's not scared, he just really, really does not want to get lost alone out here. And also maybe he wants to see this weird looking rock.

The pond is actually more breathtaking than he thought; the rock, not so much. It just looks like a rock. But at least John is immediately entranced by the flowers. Plants weren't really his thing, they were Jade's, but three years on a space boat together, and you kind of absorbed some things by pure osmosis. If nothing else, he thinks she'd like to see them.

"Alright, I give your rock a 2 out of 10. It's got a rugged McConaughey-esque charm, but that's where the similarities end." After he's gotten a good look at the flowers (not knowing exactly what he's looking at), he wiggles his way onto the rock next to Dave, giving him a playful shove. "Kind of surprised there's no one else out here. This is... nice."

What he wants to say is that this seems like a good place to make out or more, but he doesn't want to give Dave the wrong idea. But it is true.

It is a good make out place. It's also a great place for some private time. Surprisingly, not many people seem to venture here, which makes Dave really glad that John can see it too. You wander into enough psychedelic bushes, you start to question reality a little.

"You go out into the forest, you find a cool rock for your friend and this is the appreciation you get." Dave says with a grunt as he digs himself down onto the rock to stop himself from falling off the rock. He takes a moment to absorb the sights and the sounds and the smells of the forest.

In a way that would totally be weird any other time, Dave feels comfortable enough to rest his cheek on John's shoulder. The flowers smell nice, he smells nice, Dave feels warm and comfortable and it's probably because of all the booze he drank.

"Sorry this birthday sucks, dude."

"Don't be. It's not like it's your fault. Heck, if I could blame it on you, it'd probably be easier."

He finds that he doesn't really mind the proximity, and lets Dave just rest there. It is rather balmy, maybe from the tree cover, maybe there were some... natural springs nearby or something. John doesn't know about those kinds of things. He just knows how he feels in the moment, and that's surprisingly nice, given everything. Nice enough to give Dave's knee a jocular pat.

"Hey, it's kind of nice having someone here for it though. You know?" He breathes in heavily, taking in the scent of the flowers, and the water, and the forest in general. "It gets kind of lonely sometimes."

Not just here, but back home, too.

Warmth is starting to bubble rapidly in Dave, only temporarily paused by the part of his brain that feels genuine concern for his own comfort. Urges push past reason and he allows himself to indulge in the feeling.

It's not just a result of flowers, but they certainly magnify things he's been feeling. Loneliness, attraction, mild sexual frustration- living in a sex paradise as a sexless, awkward virgin coming to terms with your sexuality leads to an array of pent up sensations. He's fought off feelings like this for John before. Quietly. Without even realising it himself, for the most part. First came being threatened and disgusted by his own sexuality, then came acknowledging that John would never swing that way. Not for Dave, not for anyone.

Which is fine, really. Dicks and friendship didn't mix, and Karkat was much more open to experimenting with feelings.

But now they're here, together, in sex paradise and Dave is starting to feel things he buried down in a box years ago. John is cute, John makes him feel good, John is built and the little deviant in Dave wants to feel something other than a hug or a shoulder shove. When John doesn't shy away from closeness and touches him back, he needs to restrain the urge to move in for a kiss. If anything, the fear of rejection is the most powerful weapon he has against whatever happens to be happening inside him.

"Yeah." He says, tone uneasy and the slightest bit strained. "I don't think I appreciated a dense population while I had the chance. I thought I was so cool and edgy with my teen misanthropy phase but I kind of like, I dunno. People. Being around people. Different people, too. The meteor fucked me up and I had, what- five? Five-ish people. Must have sucked with three." He says with a shrug against John. "The universe is great and all, but it's no Earth. Earth was really going somewhere, I think. The internet was taking us wild new places, music was getting worse, they started making those superhero movies and I never got to see where they went with it. Hoo boy. I'd do anything for a computer and some WiFi around here."

He's just rambling for the sake of it now.

If asked, John would say that Dave's rambling was just one of those things, and maybe it was kind of annoying, but you learned to tune it out? But if you really pressed him, he might admit that it was kind of endearing. For someone who tried so hard to pretend like having feelings was below him or whatever that whole deal was, the rambling gave away a lot more than he probably realized.

At least to John, it does. He always could kind of pick out the real emotions, if he was listening closely. This very moment is no different, but... somehow, it still feels that way.

To say that John had never had a single sexy thought about Dave would be a lie, but it had only ever been those weird involuntary types of thoughts, where your puberty-addled mind sort of goes off on its own, and then you feel weird afterwards and wonder if you should say anything or keep it to yourself, and decide that the latter is probably the best course of action. Because it would be weird otherwise. Right? ...right?

He does find that he's tuning out Dave's rambling though, mostly in favor of letting that hand sit on his knee and idling rubbing circles with his thumb, while wondering if that weird sort of spark he's feeling is just because he's lonely, and Dave is here and cute and warm and soft, or if there's really something worth exploring. It scares him, just a little, but it entices him even more. Eventually, he wrenches his gaze up, though going from a thousand-yard stare at the ground to focusing on his friend is a little disorienting. That's the only reason he can think of for feeling so suddenly flushed.

"Oh. Yeah, the internet was kind of wild, huh?"

Edited 2017-06-19 07:58 (UTC)

Eventually, the sensation of John's thumb rubbing over his knee is enough to bring his rambling to a less organic stop. He had words on the tip of his tongue, ready to sass John out for not really paying attention, but they fade into his thoughts and pretty much disintegrate. Dave breathes in deep, trying to clear his mind with fresh air and filling his nostrils with the goddamn flowery smell. His mind is now pretty much 100% fixated on John, the shape of his jaw, the way his hand feels on him, the way his neck is so close to Dave's lips he can taste it.

Actually, he may very well be tasting in. In his idleness, he's managed to press his lips against his nice, soft, neck nook (trolls have all but ruined that term, and yet..). Despite being aware of it, Dave is reluctant to draw his lips away. If anything, they just travel upward, so he can catch the lobe of John's ear in his teeth to give it a quick nibble.

He sees practically nothing wrong with this, so much so that his hand dips to rub circles over John's thigh, much less innocuous than a hand on the knee.

For once, Dave actually can't find a damn thing to say. There's still a sentient, non-John-obsessed part of him that is absolutely terrified of garnering a disgusted, disinterested reaction from John.

Edited 2017-06-19 11:29 (UTC)

The only response John can come up with, initially, is a sharp exhale. That's-- certainly, by most definitions, Dave is definitely kissing his neck. Moreover, John is definitely enjoying it, and tilting his head to one side, inviting more attention, as he slips his arm around Dave's back and shifts to give him a little better leverage. It also gives way for him to reach up and tangle his fingers in Dave's hair. So this is how it's going to go, huh? It doesn't even feel entirely wrong, to see where this might lead. It feels bizarrely natural. More so than it should.

"If you're trying to make up for the lame birthday..." he starts, then trails off briefly, wondering if he actually wants to discourage this. Hm. No, maybe he doesn't. "Then I think you're on to something."

It's like some part of him doesn't believe that these are actual words coming out of his own mouth. Did being here in this strange world for such a short time already have that much of an impact on him? Does it even really matter? More pressing is if he should reciprocate, or just let Dave do his thing, or were they supposed to trade off, and how would he know when it was time?

The tavern that John's cohorts have dragged him to happens to also be Alisha's new job, where she'd been hired on as a barmaid-slash-tavern wench, on the condition that she wear the ridiculously low-cut shift/corset combo that counts as a uniform around here. It's ridiculous but honestly, Alisha can't blame them. Her tits look good.

She's wiping down glasses when the rather rowdy crew of merrymakers comes in, and knowing the castle guards' tastes by now, Alisha immediately begins pouring pints of ale for them. She watches in amusement as the birthday boy is presented with a classic penis cake, and comes around the other side of the bar to hand around pints. She reaches him last and gives him a grin.

"Happy birthday. You've got nice coworkers."

At the end of the day, John still has a functioning pair of eyes, and there is very suddenly some expansive cleavage right in his field of vision. He was kind of zoning out even before that moment, but now he's just kind of staring-- both because, well. That top is very flattering on her, but also out of confusion. A moment later, he manages to wrench his eyes up, an appropriately apologetic half-smirk on his face.

"Oh! Yeah, they're not so bad once you get to know them. Really down to Earth--" As if on cue, a chair is toppled over in the midst of an intense arm wrestling contest. Probably tame by tavern standards, but still contrary to his point. He chooses to ignore it. "Anyway, I haven't even known them for that long, so it was pretty nice of them to put on a party for me."

Hey, even if the cake is questionably shaped, it's not from a box, and it's a nice gesture.

She's expecting the lingering gaze on her cleavage—it comes with the territory—but it doesn't stop her from smirking when he finally wrenches his eyes away from her tits and up to her face. Alisha takes the last tankard of ale from her tray and sets it down in front of him.

The crashing of the chair draws her attention, but only briefly.

"I'm pretty sure their lot will take any chance to get completely fucked up, no offense." Alisha makes a point of taking in John's uniform. "Guessing you're new around here, too?"

Ah. He's been caught. Best to pretend that didn't happen. He's happy to move on anyway, and he nods at the question-- if it's possible to nod both eagerly and regretfully at th same time, he manages it somehow.

"Yeah! I just got here a week or so ago. Is it really that obvious?" He sort of hopes so. He doesn't want to think that he might have already started blending too well. It's way too soon for that. "I guess there's only two or three of us guys and none of us are from around here though, so..."

He shrugs, and wonders if he should take the drink she's put in front of him. All of this just feels so surreal. Not the whole, spirited away to another world part. Just that he's here celebrating this birthday and people are foisting booze on him, and he guesses he's still technically 20 but does a year even make a difference? Good gracious, now he's getting all reticent at his own birthday party. He really needs to get out more often.

Alisha shrugs. "Yeah, a bit, but only 'cause I did too. It's pretty easy to pick out the new people among the locals, since most of us have all our teeth and can speak proper English."

She nudges the tankard a little closer to him. "Go on, then. Your mates are payin', might as well drink up." As far as she knows or cares, he's over 18, which is the drinking age where she comes from. Beyond that, she doesn't give a fuck whether or not he's actually 21 yet.

"Those are both things I'm pretty good at, yeah." Come to think of it, though, he doesn't even have his toothbrush here... he's going to have to remedy that in short order. His dad imparted a lot of wise fatherly knowledge on him, and proper hygiene was among it. "There's nothing... in it, right?"

He peers warily at the drink, and in his mind, the question makes sense. He was lucky in that he didn't have to find out the awkward way, that some of the treats at the festival were tainted. Not harmful, so much as something that he wasn't exactly interested in. (Penis candy that makes you horny wasn't exactly on the top of his to-try list.)

However, he doesn't actually mean to imply that she, personally is trying to drug him.

Alisha laughs, but then her eyes narrow and she gives him a mock-glare.

"You accusin' me of slippin' you a mickey?"

She gestures at his mug. "That's fucked up. Drink it, it's fine. Or don't, I could care less either way."

"Not you, specifically! Mostly just... everyone else in this place..."

He's not sure he really needs to defend himself, but it seems like the chivalrous thing to do. He didn't really want to imply poorly of her, when she was being nice and friendly with him. He studies the mug for a moment before he decides that it's worth his while to be polite about this one, and knocks it back, chugging as much as he can in one go.

This is decidedly a bad idea. He doesn't learn his lesson. In another time, in another place, this exact same thing happened. The results were predictable.

He makes a face, grimacing as he at least manages to get it all down, pressing his lips tight together as the bitterness slides down his throat and settles into his stomach and he starts to wonder how anyone could ever become an alcoholic. But when he gets his wits together, he gives her a weird smirk, partly apologetic, partly sheepish.

"Uh. It was... actually it was pretty gross, but to be fair I wouldn't know good from bad anyway."

"Right." She rolls her eyes. "I get it. I was just messin' with you." Alisha watches John knock back the beer with the smile slowly returning to her face, and breaks into a laugh when he gives his verdict.

"Yeah, no, don't worry, the beer here tastes like piss. Seems like they haven't invented a way to make it taste decent yet. I always stick to vodka tonics anyway, gets you drunk quicker and it doesn't taste like you're drinkin' ball sweat."

"Uh. Yeah. That. Except the vodka part, I don't really ever drink much."

Who's he fooling? It's not like it isn't completely obvious. Legal age or not, it's not like that's stopped anyone his age before, and with no actual adults on the New Earth, they kind of made their own rules anyway.

Boy, this is awkward.

"Thanks, though. My name's John. How'd you end up working here, anyway?"

It was easy enough to figure out how and why someone would end up working in the castle, but he has very little idea of what life is like outside those walls. He spends most of his time in or near enough to them that he hasn't gotten a particularly good feel for what the locals are like outside of what's most obvious on the surface.

"You and me must have had a completely different teenage experience," Alisha observes dryly. She's pretty sure there was a point where her body was more vodka than water. Still, she can tell that all of this is pretty new for this guy, so she takes pity on him and gives him a grin, holding out her hand to shake.

"I'm Alisha." To his question, she can only offer a shrug. "Didn't want to work for Queen Bitch up there, so I decided to stick it out on my own. I used to be a barmaid back home, so...this was the easiest thing for it. How d'you like being a guard? Doesn't it sort of...suck?"

The gesture surprising John at first, but he takes her hand all the same.

"It's okay, I guess. I don't really have anything to compare it to, but to be honest, besides the uniform I don't think it's all that bad?"

When compared to spending three years in near-isolation with only your genetic sister and your best friend but also a ghost bird, or... pretty much anything else that happened over the course of Sburb, or the past few years he's spent in near-isolation in his own home... anything beats that. How did he grow up to be such a sad sack, anyway?

"I don't think what's-her-name is all that bad, either. That's just kind of how royalty is, I guess."

She raises both her eyebrows, looking very skeptical.

"Not where I come from. British royalty are all boring old fucks who faff about in Buckingham Palace all day and watch polo tournaments and eat scones all day."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense. With the accent and all."

Smooth. Very smooth. Well, John doesn't know what to say to that, anyway-- it certainly can be boring here, that's for sure, but it was no different than back home. Really, what was he doing with all his free time anyway...? Nothing productive, that was for sure.

"I guess I just figure we're here and I don't know about you, but I don't have any way to get back, so I might as well just go with it. It could be worse, they could have us locked up in the dungeon for no good reason. ...they've probably got weird sexy dungeons here, to make things even worse."

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