The Guild Hall

[rumsztyk]

"And you're an idiot if you think pass up an opportunity to get shitfaced." He grinned.

"Besides, I know the best therapy of them all - it's called 'drinking to forget'. So, how will it be?"

[relentless]

Duval scoffed, Georges rampant debauchery seemed to light the way for Duval, headlights through the fog. And so, he grinned with him, shaking his head.
"Yeah... good idea. For once, I might actually try to be you for once. Oh how I've fallen to such low, low depths..."
He snickered wickedly, budging his chair up closer to the desk and holding his glass out.

"Oh come now, you get to act like me! What else could you want? Hehehe..."
A joyous laugh overcame him, as if the prospect of debauchery meant freedom from his mental anguish. Though deep down, he knew that the sweet liquor and soft, slick smell of tobacco would only delay the vulture woman, if at all.

[rumsztyk]

George chuckled "I don't think I have what it takes to be such a sly, pretentious cunt as you, mate."

This helping of rye was much more abundant, filling their glasses almost to the brim. "Start on a high note. Bottoms up!" He chugged the whole drink in one go.

[relentless]

"Pah, you're one to talk, spastic!"
Duval cackled as he leaned forward, the companionship of his friend made him lean away from the allure of the vulture woman that cawed in his mind. So, he would legitimately lean forward toward the desk, taking the glass and carefully hoisting it up.

"Where'd you get this shite anyway? You just get this for free?"
He asked, before chugging it down with three gulps, letting out a wet, pleasured sigh from his mouth as the liquor warmed his mouth.

[rumsztyk]

"Well, I gotta pay for it. Fortunately the Warden's wage is more than enough. These, though..." He tapped the cigar box. "These are 'confiscated contraband'." He winked at Duval, air quoting the last two words.

[relentless]

He whistled, impressed by his criminal side, later followed by a hearty laugh.
"Haha, what? You? Stealing? HAHAHA- fuck ooffff!"
Duval cackled wickedly in his direction, putting his elbow on the desk and leaning on it. He grinned, taking a more passionate puff out of the cigar.

"You up to anything else? Might have to get the kings army to take you down at this rate!"

[rumsztyk]

"Psh! Stealing?" He rebukes the accusation. "Guy got sent on a penal expedition and didn't return. It'd be a damn waste if I didn't take those!" George grins again. "You'd be impressed by the quality of personal belongings some people have in this shithole."

"It's all by the book Duval. Helps that I'm the book's co-author, but still..."

[relentless]

Duval scoffed, shaking his head before he waggled a cheeky finger at George.

"Pah, I've cheated my way around many a pig, you's just becoming dirty! Heheheh!"
The man reached for his drink, kicking his leg up as he leaned back, before he made an 'opps' sound and cleared his throat.
"Not that its bad, mind. Just means you're having a bit o' banta!"

[black379]

Was this better than to live on the road? Every inn, every campfire had been a place to rest or revel with company. Her few friends were close enough to family. She made money to waste on drink. She fought beside her crew, even laid with some of them while they were still dressed in dirt and blood. She had direction, even if it was short term.

How long had it been? Courcy wondered if any of them had died. She wondered if any of them were married, happy. Lekalis and Tilly surely meant well, but Courcy was the third in their pair. There were too many times she was desperate to regain the partnership that she had with Baignard, and just as many times she ended up lacking and longing.

Her fling with the warden, whatever it could be called, was nothing like she wished for. It was nearly the opposite of what her friend insisted that she deserved. But Courcy was impatient and needy, dependent on attention. If George loved her body alone, then at least that satisfaction could be reciprocated.

-

The ginger, hoping not to be spotted by the young Squire, sullenly crossed the yard toward the barracks. Once inside she sought out the warden's office.

"George. May I come in?" She stood outside his door with her arms crossed. The green shawl Tilly had lent her was draped across her shoulders and collar to cover what her corset didn't. The woman anxiously watched her boots as she awaited an invitation inside.

[relentless]

Duval and George had been engaging in idle chatter for the most part, parting with a bottle and a half worths of rich rye to dampen his throat. With his shirt undone on the top part, Duval was leaning back on his chair, the two front legs taken off the crowd with him leaning against the wall. His feet, covered in a fair surrounding of leather with a solid heel, had been positioned atop the table.

There was a moment of drunken euphoria, quietness had passed over both of them as they revelled in cigar smoke and the swirling aura of fine rye. Duval was simply content with passing on occasional short sentences at George, consisting of 'hah, you look like shite' and other teasing comments for George to retort with his own arsenal. For the moment, Duval puffed on his cigar with one hand holding it, sending little clouds of smoke and the abrupt ring shape in the air as he tried to form shapes.

Then, the redhead knocked, and spoke out with coy mannerisms leaking from her soft, yet fiery voice. His vision was partially blurred as he focused himself, removing himself from the trance of tipsy paradise. He felt the gnawing, the cawing and the cooing of the vulture lady held within the recesses of his mind, though thankfully caged for the moment thanks to the reinforcement of alcohol, forming a bird cage of recreational euphoria to entertain the fiendish creature in his head. So with a brief pause, he looked to George, a curl of a smile forming on his face, before he placed the cigar gently on the desk, then pinched his throat. Letting his throat relax he looked to the door, and attempted to mimic Georges voice.

"Oh? Aye aye! Come on in, have a glass of rye chuckle!"

Duval cackled out in a familiar tone, awkwardly matching Georges own tone of voice. He took his hand off his throat, chuckling at George, before leaning forward and grabbing his cigar so he could continue to smoke. Though he would pause, putting his hand briefly on his throat again to speak like George.

"If yah weak ale pouch can manage! Hehehe..."

The majority of the sentence sounded like George, though the iconic hum of Duval rang out at the end, before he began blowing clouds of smoke into one of the barred windows held just above Duval.

[black379]

The ginger put her hand on the door, but paused for a moment. George's voice sounded slurred, probably he was drowning himself with beer. She thought she heard another voice murmuring, thought she might have been interrupting something, but was invited inside anyways.

"I've had my share of drinking." Courcy assured while she opened the door and sauntered inside. She chewed on her lip, spotted the mugs and ale on the desk, and noted George on the other side. It didn't take long for her to spot the relaxed Duval too. "But... Another couldn't hurt."

Her blue eyes flickered between the men, who must have been chatting and drinking and smoking for some time, if the dense fumes were any hint. The roguish man hanging around made her visit a little more complicated.

"George. I thought you should know I'll... be around for a while, before I finish my penalty mission."

[rumsztyk]

George was in the process of stifling a massive roar of laughter, red with puffed cheeks. "Alright." He uttered, letting himself cool down. Duval's act was an impressively good one. "Help yourself." He fetched another glass, showing Courcy the chair while also offering a cigar.

"Mmm..." His eyes quietly questioned her. He caught the innuendo - or was it one? Fortunately this time he wasn't as drunk. "Good, good. What are you up to, then?" He deflected.

[relentless]

The man relaxed on his chair, his attention didn't seem to focus on courcy in the slightest. Duvals eyes were shut, not forcefully but peacefully, only a slight smile was held on his face, probably due to his godlike impression of George.

Though, he peaked one eye open at George, then at Courcy, squinting as he narrowed on her face.
"Ye- whys are you here anyway? Seems a bit... Oh, what's the word Georgie?"
He bit his tongue as he eyed George, before he clicked his fingers together, producing a loud snap sound suddenly, before he shot a finger gun at Courcy.
"-Abrupt! Bit of a surprise!"
He juggled the words at her, before he chucoed, swirling the fine rye in its glass, before he sipped and leaned back again.

[black379]

"I didn't mean to startle you." Courcy, offering a small smirk to Duval, approached the warden's desk and carefully claimed the cigar he held for her. She didn't smoke, but neither did she want to decline his gift, and so she idly rolled the thing between her fingers.

Glancing back to Duval, she didn't expect to see him again so shortly. If there hadn't been enough tension in the bathhouse, it was certainly palpable here. The redhead slowly pulled off her shawl, unraveling to reveal her neck and shoulders.

"You know how dangerous this place is. It's why you're cooped up here, isn't it?" She pried, eyeing George as she sat on the corner of his desk. "I'll be sent to the Ruins. Then I'm free, if I make it back."

[relentless]

"Oh aye! He's a bit of a scared little pussy cat, can't go one second without shaking his ankles when he feels the wind breezin'!"
Duval teased with an accusing tone, stretching with his drink and cigar poised up in the air, body shivering as his muscles unwinded and tensed to relieve tension, before he flopped.

Though, his left leg would quiver, and he'd bring it down on the floorboard, placing his glass on top of his knee as he held a pained expression, biting his lip as he tapped the ground.

"AHhhhahaha-! Cramp!"
Strained words of pain carried forth, before the pan would begin to slowly subside as it reached a climax. Hissing, he tapped hus front twice on the floorboard, now taking his leg off the table.

"...But! It's good- *fucker*- it's good to hear that you'll be 'free' soon enough. But hold on a tic..."
The man leaned forward with a wince, eyeing George and Courcy with curious glances between the two.

"-What you do then, eh? steal George's whisky or?"