circle7 | holiday event

Entry tags:

!!event,
?mun: endy

holiday event

Bah RUMPAH Pum Pum

It's the end of the year, and Fagsona's throwing a grand, gay ol' holiday party! And boy, are they overdoing it. There's mistletoe everywhere, the spontaneous urge to break into carols, spiked eggnog, presents for everyone under a huge tree, and even someone in the corner over there dressed up like Santa, ready (even if unwilling) for anyone to come sit on their lap and spill out their deepest heart's desires! (Poor bugger, whoever that muse is.)

And believe me, with all that decoration and alcohol, you're definitely gonna spill.

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Man, Bentley. Even Calibri had tossed back a couple in his time (more by coercion than choice, but still). To his professional credit, though, Calibri didn't react past the continued scribbling of his pen. He seemed to be writing down every word Bentley was saying, in addition to personal observations and then some. Occasionally, his eyes flitted up to Bentley's face, and every time he did, he seemed to have something new to write down. When, at length, he put down his pen, he tapped the side of Bentley's cup with his knuckles. "You are aware, doctor, of the traditional ingredients for this drink?"

"Um? Hm?" The doctor glanced up from his drink, clearly unsure. "Eggs and... nogs, I suppose. Whatever those are. From another planet, maybe?"

"Mostly Earthian-class planets," Calibri nodded, agreeing. It wasn't false - considering they lived on a space ship, it was obvious that natural resources like that had to come from another planet. It was a safe guess that Bentley made. Raising the notepad, he slipped the pen through its spiral bindings and dropped it into the black abyss of his right sleeve. How it stayed in there was an unfathomable mystery of the universe, and it was best not to ponder it, especially while drinking heavily-spiked eggnog. "I hadn't been aware that you partook in the drink, doctor."

"Makes sense," he said, nodding, when in fact it really was just a guess. "Haha, well, I had never tried it before - so I thought, why not?" Bentley smiled, a little more blissfully and clumsily and usual. (Not that smiles were usually present when in Calibri's vicinity, much less Bentley's own, but that reddish tint in the doctor's face was hint enough.) "Didn't quite expect it to taste like this, though," he admitted, staring at his cup, perhaps expecting an answer to float to the top of the the pale yellow liquid's surface.

Calibri canted his head, a miniscule ten degrees or so, and then shook it once - only just enough to convey what he wanted to say. "No, I meant, I didn't know you partook in the Drink." With a capital D.

Given the silence of capitalization and his still recent addition into the mafia, Bentley would certainly misinterpret the word. Not to mention, the effect the Drink was beginning to have.

Bentley leaned in, giving a suspicious look around the ridiculously decorated room.

"Is that a code word?" he whispered.

It was difficult to tell exactly what Calibri was thinking - there was nothing to belie his thoughts on his face, and not even the slightest of twitches or fidgeting to give any semblance of a hint in his stance. In fact, Calibri didn't even blink. It was as if Bentley's absurd question had stopped him right in his tracks, thought, time, molecular movement, everything.

"Excuse me?" Calibri clarified, after a full minute, but it sounded less like a request for clarification than a, What are you even talking about?

Edited 2010-12-18 22:42 (UTC)

Bentley clearly didn't comprehend that he had stopped Calibri's whole being in that one, single minute. He simply continued.

"Y'know," he mumbled, leaning in more, glancing around again. "'Partaking in the drink.' Issat some mafia code?"

"It means," Calibri answered, enunciating slowly (he figured it was necessary for someone who was so clearly at a conversational disadvantage thanks to the drink in his system), "That you enjoy alcohol."

This, of course, was only met with more staring.

"But I don't drink."

Very pointedly, he looked down at Bentley's cup.

Bentley followed his glance, silently watching his drink.

The following movements were carried out in a surprisingly calm manner: Bentley carefully turned around, set his drink on a table, turned back around, looked at Calibri, and didn't say a word.

Flatly, "You were not aware."

Slowly, he shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. A look of distress was starting to sink in.

"I... was not."

That was absurd. Being acutely aware of the senses of smell and taste, it seemed impossible to Calibri that a person, especially one as learned as a doctor, would not be able to tell the difference between an alcoholic drink and a virgin one. ~~Maybe everything just seemed virgin to a virgin.~~ There was, after all, a huge discrepancy between the two. "I don't understand," he said at last, pushing his glasses up his nose. In the warm glow of the hall's lighting, they still managed to gleam with a sinister edge. "How could you not?"

~~You're welcome to change that fact if you want, Cal baby-~~ Bentley's brow dipped, and he looked away. (That gleam was getting creepy, too.)

"That is... I mean, I thought it was how eggnog was supposed to taste?"

Not a very convincing argument.

~~Wait, what happened to Evan-~~

(Getting? What, it wasn't intimidating enough before?)

"Eggnog," clarified Calibri further, tipping up his chin as he often did when recalling something from memory. Usually, it was a special ratio for some sort of fatal, paralyzing, painful concoction. This was, in fact, the first time he ever had to search his memory for a recipe like this, and it took him a moment longer than usual. It had been a long, long time since he had had even the faintest use for eggnog, and even the most recent memories were from near the brink of childhood, even before adolescence. "If I recall correctly, eggnog is a beverage that is traditionally alcoholic to some degree, though non-alcoholic versions are often made and sold."

The doctor looked very upset.

"T-truth is, Calibri, I hadn't... um," he stopped to wave his hands about nervously, voice at a diminuendo, "I've never had alcohol. I'm actually quite panicked. Frankly, I-I'm scared of it. W-what should I do?"

Bentley turned to him with wide eyes. There was something comical about a doctor asking someone for help, as well as the sheer fact that anyone would ask Calibri for help.

Calibri seemed slightly confused by the desperate cry for aid as well. Eyes widening, he stepped just one small but curt step back. He had noticed that inebriation had varying effects on certain individuals, less in relation to their physical state of being than their mental one, which was a field in which Calibri had little expertise or interest. Perhaps the doctor was the type that simply got...a little emotional when tipsy? Something about those wide, nearly tearful, doe-like eyes was somewhat...off-putting.

"Well," he said, as calmly as he could. "Technically, I would not say your fear is unfounded. Although there have been certain studies suggesting that the regular intake of a small amount of alcohol may have positive effects on the human composition, it is also linked to more frequent abuse of the substance, much like illegal drugs, which, in turn, lead to serious health problems and often, at times, death, when it comes to overdose," he said, very clinically. "In fact, I would say that on a larger scale, the negative consequences far outweigh the possible positive ones."

Simply said, he really sucked at this.

Bentley gave Calibri a severe look of doom, before stumbling back into the nearest seat. His hands slid up to each side of his face and his head ducked down as he stared down at the floor.

"Oh, god. I'm going to die."

Calibri perked. "You are?"

Why, he had never heard about the fatal side-effects of small-volume alcohol consumption! This was fascinating!

~~What a jerk, Calibri.~~

"Should I see a doctor?" Bentley mumbled to himself, and in his panic, forgot that the most skilled doctor on board was himself.

Well, please allow Calibri to point out the obvious (he's very good at that). "Doctor. You are the doctor."

Bentley pauses, then glances up.

"So I should know what to do, shouldn't I?"

Calibri crossed his arms, watching Bentley closely. There was no discoloration of the skin, no paling of the lips, no dryness of the mouth...Bentley did not look poisoned at all. Was this one of those...silent, subtle killers?! "If you are, indeed, dying, then I would assume so. I wouldn't know why the Boss chose you otherwise."

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