raspberryturk | Room 504, The Arms Hotel, Sunday Evening

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Room 504, The Arms Hotel, Sunday Evening

Okay, so there'd been that dance last night. And there'd been training with Ghanima, and plenty of drinking, and then Fight Club, and now there was to be even more drinking. Because that was just how Reno rolled.

He'd kind of given up on the two-mouthful drinks that could be purchased from the minibar, and so he'd made a ~~handwavey~~ booze run earlier in the day, and he was now good and stocked up with everything from Absolut to the ingredients to slosh together a Flaming Zombie.

The name seemed fitting. Reno kinda had to, here.

Oh yeah, and there were the partners in crime.

[Come one, come all! The booze is free!]

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She'd be surprised if he didn't multi-task like that, really.

"Naming a party saves me the effort of playing innocent," Ino replied, grinning at that. "Totally in my own self-interest here."

"So you are saying that if we wish to send you away, we should use Dojima?"

Arthur was maybe deliberately misinterpreting.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "What, you don't want me around oh fearless leader?"

"I was contemplating the option which you so kindly proposed," Arthur said, idly. "Don't worry, I'm not rushing you out the door."

"You couldn't rush me out the door even if you wanted to," Ino decided, sitting down carefully. "Guess that means you'll just have to put up with me."

Oh trauma and woe and all of that.

"Let's see how intolerable you are once the drinking starts," he said, charitably.

"I get chattier," she said brightly. "And giggly."

Lucky Arthur!

"Well, I suppose I should be grateful there aren't any plants about, then," he said, magnanimously, and gestured at Reno's booze.

Ino snagged a bottle out of the selection at random. "Maybe I'll just pretend you're green and leafy," she said, making a face at him.

"Whatever keeps you amused," he said, like he didn't care much.

"Pfft," Ino said, "have to find something here to amuse me, after all. You're an easy target, oh fearless one."

"Would it help if I stuck grass in my hair?" he deadpanned.

"If you want to look utterly ridiculous, please feel free," Ino said sweetly.

"Mmm, then why don't you go out and find some for me?"

He was being twelve.

"Sorry," she said, laughing. "Don't you have a servant for that?"

"I can't let him near the drink, he'll be singing before the end of the night," Arthur informed her, sitting back. "So I suppose you'll have to go without the greenery, then."

"I can pretend your hair is straw," she said brightly. "Or, perhaps, a very sick dandelion."

"You could, but you'd be wrong."

"What," Ino asked, amused, "are you five years old tonight?"

Arthur rolled his eyes expressively. "Hardly," he said, like he didn't care much, and brought his bottle back up to his lips. "Have fun."

He could probably sound more condescending, but it'd be a stretch.

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Room 504, The Arms Hotel, Sunday Evening

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