09-15-2012, 07:09 PM
Sebastian was busily getting drunk in one of Halifax's livelier nightclubs. Or taverns. Or pubs. Quite honestly, the foxy male wasn't sure what it was anymore or why the walls seemed to sway on occasion. He supposed it was one of life's little mysteries. A band was playing in the background, playing the supposedly popular human music they had scrounged from either a "rekord playur" or a "kaset." He wasn't quite sure.
"Feel the beat from the tambouuriiine, oh yeah!"
It was catchy. Sebastian swayed his hips as he strode through the club, almost spilling his tankard over a fellow patron. He was becoming the life of the party, really. Or so he was in his own mind.
A taller man- then again, what man wasn't taller than him- with snowy white fur grasped his arm, chuckling as he looked the Italian up and down.
"God, how many did you have?" He had a nice laugh.
Sebastian flashed him a wide grin, giggling inanely. "God didn't have any, silly. He should have, though! He didn't drink and that the Lawd made... made us." Sebastian nodded wisely, his speech impressively unimpeded. "And it's my sec-" he hiccuped. "Second, I think." In his defense, the tankard was bigger than his head and filled with potent stuff. Mead, was it?
Who knew. Sebastian took another large gulp, leaning against the fluffy-furred snowball. Sebastian mentally christened him Rocco. He looked like a Rocco, it had to be said. And he was fluffy, which made him all the more huggable.
Rocco chuckled. "Don't you think you've had enough, little man?"
Sebastian pouted. "No. More drink!" Sebastian raised his tankard in a toast and took another gulp, some of the liquid spilling onto his muzzle and bare chest. He hiccuped. "Oops." Sebastian flashed Rocco another bright smile and wrenched his arm away with surprising strength before he fell backwards into a patron's lap, snickering like a madman the entire time.
"Feel the beat from the tambouuriiine, oh yeah!"
It was catchy. Sebastian swayed his hips as he strode through the club, almost spilling his tankard over a fellow patron. He was becoming the life of the party, really. Or so he was in his own mind.
A taller man- then again, what man wasn't taller than him- with snowy white fur grasped his arm, chuckling as he looked the Italian up and down.
"God, how many did you have?" He had a nice laugh.
Sebastian flashed him a wide grin, giggling inanely. "God didn't have any, silly. He should have, though! He didn't drink and that the Lawd made... made us." Sebastian nodded wisely, his speech impressively unimpeded. "And it's my sec-" he hiccuped. "Second, I think." In his defense, the tankard was bigger than his head and filled with potent stuff. Mead, was it?
Who knew. Sebastian took another large gulp, leaning against the fluffy-furred snowball. Sebastian mentally christened him Rocco. He looked like a Rocco, it had to be said. And he was fluffy, which made him all the more huggable.
Rocco chuckled. "Don't you think you've had enough, little man?"
Sebastian pouted. "No. More drink!" Sebastian raised his tankard in a toast and took another gulp, some of the liquid spilling onto his muzzle and bare chest. He hiccuped. "Oops." Sebastian flashed Rocco another bright smile and wrenched his arm away with surprising strength before he fell backwards into a patron's lap, snickering like a madman the entire time.