You Won't Find a Friend in a Glass (Monica)

[Drezda Ecks]

Achtus 7, 2718 | Early Night
The Paper Tiger

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The last place that the diplomat should be getting sloshed was in public and yet here she was, frankly past the point of caring about her image. Initially when she'd come in, she'd wondered if anyone would remember her from her last visit - Was it the same barman or a different one than before? - but by her second glass of wine, she was less concerned. So what if someone remembered seeing her? She'd been seen leaving with a woman last time so wasn't that damage enough? What was a little alcohol in a bar that was expressly for that purpose?

Okay... perhaps it was more than a little alcohol...

The barman refilled her glass when it emptied and she waved him to add more so the Hoxian couldn't actually judge how much she'd had to drink. Enough to feel like the world had loosened on its axis or maybe that was the stool, her posture and expressions more relaxed than usual. In fact, the alcohol had thawed her defenses enough that the barman earned a smile every time he did as he was bid.

At least she'd eaten this time and the wine wasn't anywhere near as potent as some of what she'd been drinking of late. In fairness, it was a wonder that she hadn't burned through her stomach over the past few weeks. Rosmilda didn't approve, of course, which was part of why Drezda was here; the bloody passive wasn't letting her near alcohol in the house. She kept hiding it and the diplomat was sufficiently leery of magic - keeping a respectful distance, really - these days that the galdor wasn't inclined to compel her with Perceptive. Throwing a tantrum, brief and undignified though it had been, also hadn't gotten results. So here she was, drinking in a bar in defiance of a magicless servant. A child.

It was all the little redhead's fault. Bloody, interfering child! She'd had to trick Drezda out of the house to see Khymarah, had forced her there against her will. It didn't matter what her intentions had been, it didn't matter how things had played out, it was the fucking principle of the thing! Besides, she was poison and she knew it. Better that she poison herself with alcohol, ease her own pains for awhile even though she'd have them plus interest in the morning.

She finished the end of the latest glass with a hiccup and waved a hand towards the glass.

"Another- Excuse me, another glass please," she hiccuped out, a hand coming to rest on her chest just below her throat where her blouse stood open. She waited to see if another hiccup would come, a small line appearing between her brows as she waited although she dredged up a smile as more alcohol was glugged into the glass.

Her fingers found the stem, curling around it gratefully, the tang of the alcohol quite pleasant to her nose now as she breathed it in appreciatively. She really ought to do this more often, propriety be damned and it wasn't as if she came across anyone she knew in any case. If she did then so what?

It was as she let the glass lip hover near her mouth, head turning lazily that she spotted a blonde head approaching the bar. The features were familiar. Why were they familiar? The glass went down, a finger pointing.

"I know you!" she announced, the tip of her tongue protruding slightly from between her teeth. She brought the finger back, touching it off her tongue as if to retrieve the answer there, keeping it there for a few moments as she thought. A dull click came from her fingers as they pushed past each other in an uncoordinated manner, a sputter of contact as she turned the finger back.

"It's Delacore, right? Cons-table Inspector, yes?" she checked, drawing out the syllables, a delighted little smile on coral lips as she realised that she had it. She was a politician for a reason clearly. Or being one had paid off, one or the other.

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[Monica Delacore]

ACHTUS 7, 2718
PAPER TIGER ⋆ EARLY NIGHT

The world was a strange and cruel place. Every and every time she thought things were getting better, thought things were going her way, thought things might end up the way they should... well something had to run in and dash her hopes just as soon. It was predictable really and why she hadn't seen this coming was a mystery to her above all, but nonetheless, her sorrows brought Constable Inspector Delacore to go out for the night.

It was more common to find her locked away in her small apartment at night, squirreled away on her couch or perhaps curled up under mountains of blankets on her bed, but something drove her to leave. She still would have preferred to wallow in her grief as usual, and perhaps take the time to read the paper or something else just as boring, but after careful deliberation the choice was made.

She wasn't one to go back on her decisions.

Monica had to put more effort into a casual outfit than she did her uniform, and was quite honestly tempted to just don her greens and relish in the authority they granted, but tonight was not some petty excuse for power-grabbing or anything of the sort. No, tonight was for going and getting black-out drunk and forgetting about all the stupid things people did and continued to do.

So instead of her typical attire, the woman chose a lacy black top, carefully tucked into a black skirt ending inches above her knees. It was a rare occasion for her to show so much skin - though the lace wasn't entirely see-through, the shadows of what looked like markings - no, lashings - dusted what little of her back could be seen, and long, pale legs revealed what appeared to be the same rising up and underneath her covered thighs. Thankfully for her modesty, she also wore tall, black socks - darkness certainly suited the bright-haired woman as she left her apartment into the Viendan sunset.

A quick detour was made first to the shop close by; the constable peering through the windows into the darkened, closed establishment as if suspicious of something. In reality, the woman had recently turned the wickish shop-owner out onto the streets after his inability to provide a valid writ, and she was itching to see him crawl back for a more violent confrontation.

No. None of that - it was a night off and she was going to focus on something other than work for once.

She was on her way to the bar then; passing by citizens here and there as they ventured home and out of the cold air. They were met with nothing but an ignorant glare as she passed; her mind focused on other things as she walked on her own.

When she finally arrived at the Paper Tiger, the blonde's face had gained a rosy hue from the cold but was quickly paling again in the warmth of the tavern. It wasn't a place she frequented... the officer wasn't well-liked or well-received in most establishments anymore, and she tended to steer clear of her fellow galdori in general. So it was with great hesitance that she approached the bar, her field as cold and rigid as steel, her expression guarded, and her confusion rising as a familiar figure pointed her out.

It took only a moment to recognize her - Miss Ecks. That dreadful diplomat.

"Yes, that's me," offered Monica begrudgingly, the woman taking her place on the seat next to the Hoxian. She waved the bartender over again, ordering a Gioran whiskey before turning her attention back to the diplomat at her side. An eyebrow raised only slightly, the woman considering the brunette.

"Miss Drezda Ecks, right? Just call me Monica. Titles can be..." the blonde shrugged a shoulder, "...a mouthful. It seems you're enjoying your night, Miss Ecks. Are you here alone?"

Her whiskey was set in front of her, and Monica raised the glass to red lips for a rather large sip before glancing back to the Hoxian. Might as well not waste time in her getting black-out drunk, right?

[Drezda Ecks]

Achtus 7, 2718 | Early Night
The Paper Tiger

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The sight of the blonde settling beside her, the victory of remembering the Seventen's name and the alcohol all worked to embolden her. Inhibitions lowered, self-control carefully unravelled as she leaned away a bit, propping an elbow up on the bar as she let her gaze move down, skimming over the skirt-clad figure. She couldn't help herself frankly, couldn't resist that visual caress. There was so much skin on display, soft, creamy and dressed up oh so prettily. If she hadn't been irritated by her the last time she'd met, she would have been able to appreciate Monica's appearance more. The circumstances were better now. Who said that she only had to drink alcohol? While not drink in this very pretty sight that had placed itself so tantalisingly within her reach.

Steady on now, she warned herself, trying not to let her gaze linger on lace and those socks. Gods, why did she find the sight of sock-clad legs so appealing? If they'd been tights or had been long enough to disappear entirely beneath the skirt then it wouldn't have been so hecking attractive but it was seeing the top of them, that gap between garments, a promise of what could be reached if things were just peeled away and-

Damn, she was being very obvious, wasn't she?

Her gaze did manage to return to safer areas, seeking blue eyes in that perfect face. So smooth, so pale, so unmarked. The Hoxian had to resist the urge to sigh.

"Monica. Well, I only knew your title, mho" she pointed out, rouged lip caught briefly in her teeth once the Deftung was out. It had just slipped off her tongue, not condescending but with a warm inflection suggesting something affectionate. Her tongue moved over her teeth to clear any marks of rouge before she continued speaking.

"If we aren't standing by formalities, you can call me Drezda or... Drez, I suppose," she added with a shrug, looking thoughtful. A finger traced the rim of her glass, wondering if the other was making some sort of judgement on her 'enjoyment'. However, judging by the way she knocked back her whiskey, Monica wasn't in a position to be judging anybody. Given the way she'd started things off, the blonde was also looking to get very, very drunk.

The diplomat could drink to that!

"I don't know about enjoying... pleasant enough, I suppose but... I'm on my own here, yes. Are you meeting someone here? Have you got a friend at the bottom of that glass that you're rushing to meet?" the dark-haired woman asked, laughing softly at her own joke. She wasn't judging either and she made that clear by taking a hearty gulp of wine, pulling a face as the alcohol burn tickled down the back of her throat and threatened to rise up her nose.

"I haven't found anything good at the bottom, it's just empty but... well, the barman fixes that one."

Maybe the woman was here to meet someone and she'd soon leave the Hoxian to her own misery and self-loathing and self-destruction. She wasn't certain that she wanted to be left alone, her own thoughts annoyingly persistent, even with the alcohol. The wine made things fuzzy around the edges, made her body more inclined to tilt off its axis or disobey her carefully couched orders. However, it didn't numb everything, which was unfortunate. She'd be pleased to have Monica as company, simply to have someone and the woman certainly wasn't difficult on the eyes, which definitely helped.

At the same time, she wouldn't be entirely surprised if Monica decided to simply leave the Hoxian at the bar and go off and do her own thing, do literally anything else in fact.

"Can I offer to buy you another drink? If you want to turn down the offer well... that's your choice, isn't it?"

.

[Monica Delacore]

ACHTUS 7, 2718
PAPER TIGER ⋆ EARLY NIGHT

Monica found it difficult not to notice the Hoxian's eyes on her; the wandering dark gaze as it swept across her pale, slender form - her own blue eyes observed the intoxicated woman's clear inspection beneath dark lashes and precise lining. As if anyone would see her with a smudged darkness about her eyes.

The blonde said nothing of the matter, simply took it into mind and tucked it away in case she needed it later. The diplomat had been rather quick to defend that red-headed passive girl of hers, hadn't she?

Interesting.

Mho - the word fell on deaf ears, the woman hardly educated in the languages of other kingdoms but choosing to assume it was nothing particularly harmful. Not with the warm way the diplomat had let it fall from her rouged lips, anyway, and Monica offered a nod of acknowledgement.

Drezda would certainly be easier than having to fumble over "Miss Drezda Ecks" once she was a bit more intoxicated, and the blonde was thankful for the name, eyes flicking back to her glass as the other woman commented on it.

"No, I'm afraid the only friend I've found is what's in the glass," replied Monica, her tone light despite any bitterness that might've seeped into her field. It was small, subtle, but it was there. To say that she was surprised when the Hoxian offered her another drink - well that was a gross understatement, and the surprise was clear on the constable's face. Her head tilted slightly as eyes slipped back to Drezda, considering the other woman's words for a brief moment. Was she being serious?

That was... new. No one had bought her a drink since Numbrey.

"Well... since you're offering," slowly agreed the blonde, "that would be nice, Drez, thank you."

It was just as well; she downed the remaining half of her whiskey in less than a minute and certainly wasn't looking to stop drinking now.

"So, Drezda," she started, the alcohol starting to take its effect in the form of a slightly more relaxed posture, the woman turning on her seat to face the diplomat, "what're you drinking for? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours," the corner of her painted mouth curved upwards slightly in a smirk, the woman humored with her words.

[Drezda Ecks]

Achtus 7, 2718 | Early Night
The Paper Tiger

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The Hoxian's senses were definitely going a little fuzzy at the edges. There were plenty of things that were beginning to slip although she hadn't yet lost all inhibition. It took a lot of alcohol to get her to open up fully provided that she didn't throw up or pass out first. It had taken a lot for her to admit things about Khymarah during that storm when she'd been trapped in the house with Rosmilda. She'd drank enough on that occasion that she hadn't been capable of drinking the following day, the mere thought of alcohol making her want to barf and the unwellness had managed to slip into the day following that one. Needless to say, that matter of thing wouldn't be happening again in a hurry. Although she was back drinking copious amounts of alcohol with total disregard for potential consequences and only a few days since the last incident. Furthermore, she was doing it in public. Any particularly conspicuous fuck-ups would be noted and kept, more than likely spread and why not? Information was currency, certainly in Vienda, but it wasn't restricted to it. Wherever there were people, there would be the exchange of gossip. While the politics of government certainly made information potent currency, there were other sorts of politics beyond those on such a high level of power. Gossip was excellent in social politics, which while far more insular and ultimately less profitable for the individuals involved did have the power to affect how others lived their lives.

In Drezda's case, if certain gossip got around, she'd lose face and suffer on both a professional and a personal front. Not that the latter mattered that much; it wasn't as if she had much of a personal life to speak of anyway. It was what made Monica oddly welcome company because she was some manner of company, someone who would remain in her vicinity even though it was unlikely that the Seventen would actually gain pleasure from spending time with the Hoxian. Maybe she wouldn't enjoy Monica's company either but beggars certainly couldn't be chooser and she wasn't unpleasant to look at at least. Plus, she was here, which honestly meant everything right now.

The diplomat's field was looser than usual, her typical indectal aura far more relaxed in nature, almost laidback and lazy compared to how it normally was. Emotion bled into it more than normal courtesy of the woman's tipsy - and fast becoming drunken - state although what she was feeling was quite changeable as the woman vacillated between different moods. She was smug, almost victorious for being her in defiance of Rosmilda's wishes, miserable that she was here alone, unwanted and disliked, simmering with a low level rage at the unfairness of things, and - thankfully dampened now - lust.

She couldn't help but caprise the blonde's field when she had the opportunity and so it was only fair to expect that her companion would do the same in return. What odds? It wasn't as if she had anything to lie about.

Monica's bitterness registered in a dim way, the galdor nodding her understanding although she was only sort of paying attention, taking the words at face value although she had her own nugget of wisdom to offer in that regard.

"You may think that the glass' contents are your friend but it's the sort of friend that can turn on you and make your life a living hell the next day. Maybe even the day after that. Don't drink so much alcohol that that's something that happens. Two day hangovers are... not to be trifled with," the woman admitted, a slight shudder going through her at the remembrance. All the same, it didn't stop her from offering to enable the woman's quest to drunkenness.

It was all too easy to have the whiskey ordered and added to her bill and all too entertaining because even with her current drunken state, Drezda was able to see Monica's surprise. Was it strange to have someone buy you a drink if... they were the same-sex? From a man, it would certainly have held some connotations, certain expectations. The trap of an ulterior motive was something that had to be checked for. Was it any different here given how she'd looked at the other? Well, yes, she'd only been looking. Was it strange to simply want the other's company? Well, it was certainly strange given how their first and last meeting together had gone but the woman was lonely, especially where galdori company was concerned.

She ordered herself another drink, considering Monica's question with a mixture of confusion and thoughtfulness marking her features. She regarded the other woman carefully, onyx eyes fixed on her face as she considered. Why was she drinking? It wasn't simply the backlash because that had been weeks ago and it hadn't even been that bad. It wasn't as if the Hoxian was damaged and yet she couldn't help but notice that something had changed drastically in her, difficult to put her finger on but certainly not a change for the better.

"What am I drinking for? Well... lemme see," she announced, unconsciously stalling for time as if some hind part of her brain had kicked in for self-preservation mode because it was best to keep secrets from a political perspective rather than offering insights to your enemies. Potential enemy. Maybe this would change things, especially given that she'd bought the Constable Inspector.

"I'm drinking... because I thought that I'd managed to make something of my life but now I know that it's all chroveshit," she remarked with a derisive laugh. "Everything I've done since I left school doesn't amount to anything because it's all lies. I've let myself think it's worth something but it isn't. I'm an ambassador in all but name, except I'm not really and I'm a woman. I think everyone expects me to go back to Hox in the end to marry some old man and watch as my brother runs the family business because he's a man so that qualifies him," she added bitterly.

"I've bought some time for myself but really it just put off the inevitable so... Wasted life, pointless life, plenty of enemies and no decent relationships. Why am I drinking? Take your pick," Drezda remarked dryly, downing her drink and moving onto the next one.

"You know mine, I guess so... why are you here?"

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