"Spirits." That one's easy. Sweeney makes a quick survey of the room, realizing it's been a good while since he's been in it. And the night Laura punched Malcolm, he'd been socializing, not glued to the bar.
"Whiskey or rum; I ain't that picky." He beelines to his favorite barstool, sliding onto it like embracing a long-lost friend.
It's accepted without question; he rolls the glass between his thumb and middle finger for a moment, trying to come up with some way to answer that question.
"It's fuckin' complicated. Think I might be gettin' a line on why I can't graduate, but it's too early ta tell if there's any meat to it." Sweeney looks up to Dorian, his expression easing when he turns the topic to more pleasant things.
"Been workin' on learnin' magic, mostly. As a free-time thing." He shrugs a shoulder.
"Last breach was hard. I was...really good at it. It's like havin' three fingers cut off'a both hands. Yeah, I can still do most things, but I'll always notice the shit I can't."
The look on his face makes it readily apparent that he was not saying the breach was good. It wasn't. It was one of the hardest he'd been through. But...it was nice to have magic. Sweeney shakes his head.
"Got the wrong shape. Comin' back." He wets his lips, looking for a better way to explain. "I had a tail. Like Ulla. But a fish, not an eel." Sweeney knocks back the rum in one go, staring at the glass after.
"Still feels wrong sometimes. Havin' legs instead. Like I can't be what I'm s'pposed ta. What I am."
"No offense," which means that Dorian's about to say something super offensive, "but you're dead. Of course you feel like you can't be what you're supposed to. Hell, I'd be surprised if everything didn't feel wrong."
His eyes roll beneath their lids. It's not the same thing and Dorian damn well knows it.
"Been walkin' dead 'nough b'fore I got here; guess I didn't notice that much of a change." That's one way to put it. Sweeney reaches for the bottle to refill his glass.
"An' you? New situation. Bein' with the fella who ain't dead? Well--" Okay, that's on him. "--still dead. But also here. Bein' in yer face."
He's quiet for a moment, staring at his glass. Sweeney wets his lip, unsure how to broach the topic, if there's even a way to. He does his best to be gentle.
"You think ya'd rather it stayed that way?" Time isn't left for an answer before he makes an addition.
"Or's it too early ta e'en be thinkin' of 'what's ta be' when the 'what is' is still so fucked?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
After Godric's return
Hope you're doing alright.
Since Godric
If you wanna get a drink or something sometime.
[About 30 seconds later.]
Didn't mean to be weird.
Re: After Godric's return
This is a weird thing to say but I have no idea what to do when encountering a very alive ex.
Want me to let you into the lounge?
Re: After Godric's return
--------
And he is. Ready to do some drinking of his own.
Re: After Godric's return
"Relationships are hard and confusing and I'm far too sober to deal with it right now. Pick your poison: cocktails or spirits?"
Re: After Godric's return
"Whiskey or rum; I ain't that picky." He beelines to his favorite barstool, sliding onto it like embracing a long-lost friend.
Re: After Godric's return
"How have you been lately? What sort of nonsense has the Barge thrown at you?"
Re: After Godric's return
"It's fuckin' complicated. Think I might be gettin' a line on why I can't graduate, but it's too early ta tell if there's any meat to it." Sweeney looks up to Dorian, his expression easing when he turns the topic to more pleasant things.
"Been workin' on learnin' magic, mostly. As a free-time thing." He shrugs a shoulder.
"Last breach was hard. I was...really good at it. It's like havin' three fingers cut off'a both hands. Yeah, I can still do most things, but I'll always notice the shit I can't."
Re: After Godric's return
"Honestly, last breach sucked for me. But I'm glad it worked for you—better that than yet another round of nonsense."
cw: body dysmorphia
"Got the wrong shape. Comin' back." He wets his lips, looking for a better way to explain. "I had a tail. Like Ulla. But a fish, not an eel." Sweeney knocks back the rum in one go, staring at the glass after.
"Still feels wrong sometimes. Havin' legs instead. Like I can't be what I'm s'pposed ta. What I am."
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no subject
"Been walkin' dead 'nough b'fore I got here; guess I didn't notice that much of a change." That's one way to put it. Sweeney reaches for the bottle to refill his glass.
"An' you? New situation. Bein' with the fella who ain't dead? Well--" Okay, that's on him. "--still dead. But also here. Bein' in yer face."
no subject
no subject
"Off network."
no subject
no subject
"You think ya'd rather it stayed that way?" Time isn't left for an answer before he makes an addition.
"Or's it too early ta e'en be thinkin' of 'what's ta be' when the 'what is' is still so fucked?"