He shook his head. It was a futile idea, considering how hostile Ahiga had been to him, and he had known him. It was unlikely that the boy would warm up to anyone, especially with how cold and distant he was from someone who was supposedly a relative of sorts. "Good luck with that, my friend. He might just bite off your other pinky if you try it." Strel snorted before taking a gulp of the rum. The liquid was starting to dwindle fast between the two of them, especially with the Dauphin's larger swallows; his tolerance levels had shot up in the recent months. It was probably a bad thing, but he felt good that he was keeping his head more and more, though felt a little bad about how much drink he had to waste before the world around him got too fuzzy to decipher anymore.
Strel furrowed his brows in thought, then exclaimed out loud, he shot up, even though his head was stupidly dizzy and the world swirled around him. At least everything was still relatively defined and he could see everything perfectly fine. "I know exactly what you need." He stumbled to the door and pushed his way in. His hands ran along the paneled wall, letting his fingers glide along the wooden surface. It was mostly for support but he giggled at the touch and feel of the wall. Strel almost fell into his studio after fumbling with the bow knot. The colored rope hung limp in the handle, and he forgot it on his way out. Tucked under his arm was a jar of brown powder, and in his other was a bowl.
"Lets make you pretty," he slurred, setting the jar down, limbs shaky as he grabbed some water from a rain bucket. It was weird how long it took him to open the lid and then shake some of the powder into the water. The result was a liquidy paste that was easy to smear and still felt more solid than runny. "W-where, do you want it?" he asked, blinking absently at the man with a smudge of red-brown paste on his fingers.
Photo taken by Fergal of Claddagh. Table style inspired by Kitty.
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