throwmoreswords | [ic inbox]

Yes, well. I am partway convinced that you are, in fact, part immortal vampire or some sort of otherworldly being due to the fact that you are my age and look about the same as you did as when you were in your twenties.

[ laugh at him all you want, just because you have good genetics and probably won't age for another 30 years doesn't mean you can just sit there with a shit-eating grin on your face, sir ]

...If you feel inclined to donate food to a food bank, I would hope that it is more than one emasly can of food. Walking in with one can and laying it on the desk and then walking it out seems...

Like something an asshole would do.

[ ...he swore. time for more wine. ]

[ oh, he preens over the praise, yes, call him pretty in such loquacious ways. ]

You should see my mother. She's a goddess in mortal form, what's where all of this comes from. And also why I'm blond and pale despite having been born in Iraq.

[ he will continue to grin like the bitch he is--it only gets worse when Vergil agrees with him. ]

Exactly! So then either I'm trapped adding more cans to my sludge collection so I don't look like a complete prick, or I'm roped into looking like an asshole and spending all that money on travel, and either way I don't win.

[ the wine is waiting for you, Vergil. ]

My own flower adventures, beyond the Schroedinger's Social Faux Pas Can, simply ended up with me the proud owner of... some sort of tiny screaming instrument and a hideous ring that does something very, very stupid.

[ he wasn't calling you pretty!!!!!! just!!!! okay maybe he was but it was more a comment on your immortal witch blood and how you don't age anyway he's drinking more wine. ]

I had always wondered about that. Now I have my answer.

[ he waves a hand with a vague amount of dismissal. ]

It would have been best to just leave the can somewhere for someone to pick it up. There are homeless people in every city. ...Or, if I can be so bold to say, just throw it out.

[ he's too drunk and too rich to care right now. ]

Tiny Screaming Instrument can mean any number of things. A harmonica is a tiny screaming instrument. So is a kazoo.

...

I am most curious about your hideous ring.

[ but you could call him pretty tho. go ahead. tell him he's a pretty boy. he's the prettiest boy you know. ]

Indeed. I'm cursed with such beauty, but it is a burden I bear with some measure of grace. [ he's so breezy. and smug. like an asshole.

Vergil continues to agree with him, and any seeds Takame might have sown for Gil to not be a rich douchebag are immediately routed. ]

That's what I wanted to do, but no, he made the effort of walking over to the front of this hotel to take it from the bench. I almost hope someone stole it before he got here, but I'd likely be blamed for it.

[ he's not drunk enough but he is too rich to care just in general. ]

It's a middling-sized music note with a little face. If you squeeze the cheeks, it screams until you let go. It's rather disconcerting.

...

You would want to see the ring. You don't want the ring, Mr. Vittore.

[ but he'll reach into his pocket all the same, and pull it out, laying it on the table between them. it is an ugly little thing, being that it looks like a possum. ]

[ your head doesn't need to grow three sizes ]

Some measure of grace, mm? Graceful as un pavone.

[ he scoffs a little, letting his head once again rest on the bartop. its cold on his cheek and he likes it. ]

You just... put it outside. On a bench.

[ okay now he's gonna fucking laugh.
he's straight up chuckling, even though he's doing his damn best to Reign It In. ]

...Hold on, the item you got that's musical...

I.
I believe that is called an otomotone? Those are awful little beasts, that needs to go in a bin as well.

[ he's reaching for the ring, though. Looking at the... stretched silver metal, the beady little inlaid red rubies for eyes. It's... detailed as hell, like a long possum that's holding onto the curled end of its own tail. ]

This is the single ugliest ring I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.

[ yes it does, how else will it contain all of Gil's massive brain? ]

I have no idea what you just said, but I'm going to assume it was terribly complimentary since you're guzzling about $200 worth of Prosecco on my dime.

[ he smirks at the mention of the bench, his eyes crinkling as Vergil has a healthy chuckle, propping his chin up on his hand again. ]

Well I wasn't going to stand there for some rude internet nobody to encounter. He specifically said he didn't want to see me as well.

[ a shrug, listening intently as Vergil scorns his otomotone, smirking as Vergil condemns the beast to hell, and then is incredibly taken by the ring. it's such an ugly, ugly ring. ]

It summons a possum if you wear it.

[ blunt ]

I called you a pavone. A peacock. Which, if I'm honest, I doubt you'd find an insult in being called such.

[ god its just 200$ he'd spend that on a day trip to an armani store buying two shirts its whatever man ]

Hm. His loss, I suppose. As I mentioned before, many people on the Libra app have personalities that are much left to be desired. [ his head feels swimmy.

he tries to lift it again.
to stare.
at gil. ]

It summons a... what? Topo? ...Toditrice?

[ he holds up the ring that... looks like a big rat. ]

Peacock isn't an insult. It means you think I'm beautiful, resplendent, and have good taste in clothing.

[ he smirks at that last bit, watching as Vergil tries and fails to reinsert himself into the land of the people who aren't flat on the countertop of the bar, fiddling with the possum ring. ]

I don't know what you're saying in your tomato language, but it's a big... vermin of some sort. About this long, this wide. Very prone to screaming, but if I were a possum summoned from only the gods know where to wherever a ring like this is, I would also have some measure of existential crisis.

Being summoned by anything sounds awful.

[ ... his head feels weird. he rubs his temple and gives it a shake to clear it, eyes narrowing a little. ]

Are you able to continue drinking, or should I put you to bed to sleep it off?

Easy to pick out of a crowd, ready to show off at a moment's notice, and loud without even having to open your mouth.

...

Colourful too. I. I have no idea where you get half your clothing that just screams at me from the other side of the room.

[ okay, he might be a bit drunk now, and he's waving his hand a bit at the other as if it'd help him stop running his own mouth. ]

No accounting for your screaming rodent ring now, either. Throw it out a window, that thing is likely cursed.

...[ he looks at his wine glass. ]

I think I am finished.
I cannot tell if there is any drink left. Which I think is a sign.

Just because some of us are prepared to thrust ourselves onto the stage of life and take command doesn't make us foolish creatures, Mr. Vittore.

I'll send you links to the shopfronts I peruse. You could use some color in your life.

[ he smirks as Vergil flails a little and mostly flops and does a whole lot of not being vertical, giving him a look that could almost be mistaken for pity. ]

You don't want to meet my new possum companion before I put you to bed?

[ he stands, slowly, the only sign that he's also been drinking--glancing at Vergil's glass and reaching out to take it and then empty it in one good swoop, smirking when he licks his lips and sets the glass down. ]

It's empty now. Can you turn yourself around without falling?

[ he's gonna make his way over to the Vergil side of the bar, and the Vergil occupied seat at the bar. ]

[ he is going to watch, with somewhat widened eyes as Gilgamesh just. grabs his glass and downs it like its the easiest thing in the world. Finally lifting his head to sit up straight and properly--looking every bit like a man who isn't so drunk that he can't move, but... ]

You have had just as much as I have. And yet you are still standing and talking like you had not imbi.
Imb.

[ Hm. English is getting harder. ]

I don't want to see your rat.

Likewise, I will not fall if I turn around. That much is simple.

[ .........however. ]

I realise, I think my legs have already decided they are done for the night.

[ it'll take a lot more than four, five glasses of white wine to make Gil slosh about; someone who knows his habits might catch that he's got a hand on the bar countertop for balance but for the most part he makes it look effortless. ]

You need to better develop your liver, Mr. Vittore.

[ he smirks brightly as he gives up on the word and grouses about magic rat rings, studying Vergil for a moment as he quickly problem-solves in his wine-moistened brain. ]

Well. Either you walk with me supporting you, or I give you the piggy-back ride of complete inebriation. The choice is yours.

I don't need to better develop my liver. It is not as if I plan on getting drunk often.

[ he has no idea that this is gonna be his first and last time, either--once his demonic blood gets used to the sort of 'damage' alchohol can cause and how to 'quickly heal' it next time.

But. He's gonna make a face. he's gonna make SUCH a face, and try to figure out what it is he wants to do, exactly. His arms folding. His head tilting. A tiny, unhearable sigh escaping past his lips. ]

What a lack of dignity there is in being piggy-backed.
I am still lucid and of myself. I am sure with enough effort and a little support, I will be able to walk. Just lend me your shoulder.

You need to develop your liver. Five glasses of wine is a rookie's number and I'll be damned if someone finds out my favorite antique dealer is a lightweight who can't hold his liquor.

[ poor guy. Gil doesn't know what he would do if he couldn't get pleasantly drunk most of the time

... getting his Servant's constitution back is going to be fucking weird and mildly emotionally devastating. he smirks as Vergil considers his options, giving a little shrug as he comes around to be within easy support range. ]

Suit yourself. Grab my shoulder and let's see the sort of progress we can make, all for the sanctity of your dignity.

I'm your favorite.

[ that's the only sentence he's repeating from that first line because he's not touching the rest. he's not about to develop into an alcoholic--he had a glass of wine with dinner most days and that was more than enough.

But with that, vergil IS going to move to stand up. His usual boots with a very slight heel are definitely working in his favor as he moves to put an arm around gil, and look. he even manages to stand straight. he looks put together. one step, in front of the other.

he almost looks impressed with himself until the third step has him forgetting his leg placements and almost falling forward, almost dragging gil down to the floor with him.

dignified. ]

One of few, certainly. Wear that badge with pride and honor.

[ Gil seems almost fond, if a touch exasperated. Vergil is taller than him, so that might help them at first--Gil's easy to lean on being a few inches shorter, and it's all going to plan at first, they are making good time towards the bedroom and then Vergil's lightweight ass goes whoop and Gil kneels for no man so his legs do a sort of wide pseudo-split as he clings onto Vergil and works to keep him from kissing the marble floors with his pretty, pretty face. ]

All right. I'm vetoing this. You've lost privileges when it comes to your life choices, demon boy.

[ once Gil has them righted, he's going to--well. while he's not a demon with supernatural strength, he is a rich man with a personal trainer and nothing better to do with his day, the muscles aren't wholly for show. Vergil is getting righted and then Gil is going in for the sweep, lifting Vergil up like the Italian principessa he was always meant to be. ]

Arm around my neck. Don't resist, it's futile.

[ They're gonna make it to the bed without falling over, damn it. ]

[ this didn't at all go as planned. not at all. not only did he almost make gil kiss the marble floor, but he'd almost thrown himself down onto it as well. after three steps. ]

Well, this is undignified. [ he hisses between his teeth. demon boy. really?! that's what gil came up with??
he wants to punch him. but he really doesn't have the energy. ]

It is just because I forgot to remove my boots. Walking on marble flooring with any bit of a heel is dangerous.

[ this sentence was brought to you by that doesnt make fucking sense vergil ]

I will allow this, just this once. [ he can pass out and forget this ever happened, that's what he's decided as he fussily puts an arm over gil's neck, every bit like a cat petted in the wrong direction. principessa his ass. this looked ridiculous, you're so much smaller than mr vittore is. ]

No one will know but you, I, and anyone I choose to tell when the mood takes me. [ he's teasing. probably. he's also a lot stronger than he looks, carrying Vergil the rest of the way to the bedroom of the suite, settling him on the edge of the bed with a surprising gentleness for how hard he's been teasing the man, otherwise. ]

Can you manage your boots or should I continue to play nursemaid--rather stunningly, might I add?

[ he steadies his own balance with a hand on his hip, eyes lidded as he waits for either confirmation, a leg up, or for Vergil to crawl for the pillows with what shreds of his dignity are left. ]

Breathe this to a soul and I will find some way to unkindly repay the favor.

[ his accent is slipping a little, as he speaks--words becoming a little messily pronounced as his friend manhandles him rather well down the hall. Which is impressive, given Vergil feels a little less spindly-nerd these days, and has actual meat on his bones. ]

I can manage my boots. [ ....and it's the walking all over again as he moves to try to cross his legs, to grab his... stylish leather boots.
And all he does, instead, is start to contemplate the many buttons and straps that make them up. Forgetting that they aren't some slide-on boot, but rather, a fine pair of leather knee-high things that... take about five minutes to get on. ]

Doubtful. You're a bit too shy to really take revenge, in my experience.

[ it's rather fun, listening to such a composed, controlled man slide through his words, not quite slurring but certainly not running the show either. Gil grins like the jackal he is.

he waits, patiently, for Vergil to manage his boots.

And then continues to wait.

And wait.

And wait. ]

How's the management going there, Mr. Vittore? [ this is his payment in kind for several hundred dollars worth of Prosecco and it's worth every penny. ]

I am not shy to take revenge.
I have done my fair share of petty things to those who have irritated me by buying items out from under me, before.

[ he's contemplating the straps on the side of his boot.
He's started to undo one.

It's a monumental task.
He doesn't remember, does it go out, or in if he needs to loosen it?

.... ]

I could probably sleep with my boots on.
They are clean.

I'm wealthier than you, that's a difficult task to pull on me.

[ he watches Vergil contemplate life and the universe and his fucking boots and tries not too smile too much, one of his knees locked so he also doesn't start swaying unbidden. ]

You are not sleeping on sheets this expensive with your boots, fool. Put your leg up.

[ he's going to take Vergil's boots off like the man is a toddler. Suffer. ]

You don't buy things from under me.
You visit my store and use them and leave, like a customer I actually like having around.
I hate it when people start making bids for my things...

[ ugh.

UGH. No. He's gonna try to hold onto his boot. ]

Why do you care.
These aren't your sheets.
They'll change them to fresh ones in the morning.
Leave me to my devices.

You like having me around, do you? [ he smirks, indulgent, eyes lidded as he narrows in on the thing most likely to fluster Vergil.

and then he reaches down to grab the man by a dainty ankle. ]

You are going to be laying next to me in the bed, and if you kick me with your nice, clean boots, I'm going to take them off you and throw them off the balcony. Make your choice.

If I did not at least somewhat enjoy having you around I would have drowned myself in wine at my own abode.[ he doesn't have that many friends, gil, and theres only so many times you can text your not-dad before it starts feeling clingy.

his ankle is grab.
he complains with a grunting noise, but. He decidedly doesn't kick him off.
the final step is acceptance. ]

These were eight hundred dollars.
Do not put them on the balcony.

[ic inbox] - Kaisou

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