You may not recall calling me

Strelein von Rosnete · 01-17-2011, 01:14 AM

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that is a scary thought... most I've ever done is about 1.6k

Strel gave a rather obnoxious laugh, putting up his hand to his mouth in a mock attempt to hide it. He even snorted once during his mocking laughter. "That's entirely the point, silly!" he exclaimed, thinking Noss very silly. He knew that Noss didn't drink for a reason but that was not a reason that the redhead gave a flying fart for. Strel drank and that was the way things were and he was not about to change that fact, especially if it was the other man's fault that he put bottle to lips. But keeping himself in check? Strel noticed the words but he scarcely processed it. If he had, he would have asked what he meant by it, as in, what control would he lose? What would Noss do when he was free of inhibitions? "Heh, the whole point is to lose control! To be free, to forget, to not know! It's a thrill, Noss, thrill!" He would have thrust his hands up in the air and laughed, were he sitting on his ass rather than on his belly.

Calming down, the redhead raised an eyebrow. Ralla ran from home for whatever god forsaken reason and then was wanting to come home again to tell her family why it was she had left in the first place and that she was going to go back? Now that seemed rather silly. But what was Strel supposed to do but shrug at it and comment lightly on it. He could not badmouth a sibling, after all. "Well, she's free to do whatever it is she wants, I suppose," he inspected his nails, trying to seem bored rather than curious. "What, ah, why did she leave again?" His words were slowly starting to come much more clearly, and his head was clearing too. But Noss did not need to know that. No, no, no. He did not, at all.

Of course the bastard would not listen to him, would not heed him at all. Strel knew it but he had assumed that the man would listen, especially now. Few liked dealing with drunks. Maybe Noss actually really cared. No, the redhead turned his mind away from the thought. He beat on his back, cursed, as he was expected to have. Noss still managed to cart him back upstairs like a misbehaving puppy and then lock them in the room. That unnerved him a bit. Strel, laid on the bed when the other man locked the door (which had been fixed a while back), fell against his many blankets, curling up into them. He buried himself in the cloth, muzzle sticking over the edge of the bed a tad. He heard the chair move, another new acquisition.

"God, you talk too much, it would help if you drank," he whined, grinning like a fool with his arms wrapped around a refurbished throw pillow. Strel giggled a little, but the noise choked in his throat as Noss told him the hidden truth. Lavender eyes shut and he looked as though he were happy to hear it, but his arms were clenching tight against the pillow. "Oh?" he muttered, arms suddenly loosing. He suddenly lifted himself up onto one elbow, eyes hard and dead set on the other male. "So you're leaving here? Leaving me?" he said, not hearing all that Noss had told him. "Going home to be the next chief, are ya?" Huffing, the redhead looked away, anger in his eyes, which seemed almost.. watery. "It'll be quieter without you," he said coldly, hands clenching tight.

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