Amanda, Manuel - Tuesday night
Jun. 8th, 2004 10:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsAmanda and Manuel re-enact European history with pints in the pub. Only this time the Spanish Armada wins. Conversation meanders, as drunken conversation is wont to do.
"Now this is what English culture's all about. Smoky, dim room, nice comfy seats where you can park yerself for as long as you want, the regulars propped up at the bar an' proper beer in a pint glass." Amanda took a swallow of said beer and made a happy noise. "This is what it's all about." But before Manuel could make a disparaging comment about her idea of culture, she added. "So, this wager... This the one we came up with before I went t' Mexico? Whoever's left standin' wins?"
Manuel looked around the bar with amusement all over his face. "Yep. And, just like it should have been then, the English are going _down_ on the might of the Spanish Armada." he leered. Showing the years of alcoholic training under Alphonso, he drained his beer in two swallows, then made a twitching-eyelid face. "Gah, that's just vile. I _so_ prefer wine, but I've ceded the choice of venue and alcohol to you. And I'm -still- gonna outdrink you."
"Britannia still rules, or at least it will tonight." Amanda followed suit and downed her pint, setting the empty glass down on the bar with a thump and nodding at the bartender. He was a cheeky young Australian guy - it seemed that every pub in London had at least one Australian behind the bar - and he winked at Manuel as he brought over two more pints and two more vodka shots. "As for the goin' down... well, we can talk 'bout that later." She drank enough out of the pint to drop the vodka in, glass and all, and raised her eyebrow at him. "So, you win, we go somewhere you want, I dress however you want - within reason - an' I won't complain a bit. I win, an' you do the same. Deal?"
"Done!" he said loudly, and skimmed enough off the top of his pint to drop in the shooter. "I'm going to enjoy seeing you in a dress." he grinned at her. "Bottoms up?"
"The way the barman's givin' you the eye, it'll be yer arse, not mine," she said with a grin, taking advantage of his reaction to finish the drink seemingly effortlessly.
Manuel leered at Amanda, and then turned to the bartender to check him out as well. "Not too shabby, not too shabby." he said, and then quickly polished off his own drink. "But the only arse being plundered tonight is yours. Sorry, barkeep. Only so far I'm willing to go on the first date." he said while waggling his eyebrows at him. Turning back to Amanda, he looked at her with great amusement. "Round two, then?"
"Yer payin', so keep 'em comin'." She looked at him curiously. "An' I am startin' t' rub off on you if you ain't runnin' for the hills 'cause a bloke's takin' an interest."
Manuel shrugged. "No harm in the looking, I decided. Still not goin' there, but I can look, and be looked at, without freaking. Samson helped methrough it - it was awkward, but it helped." he said, waggling a finger at the Australian lad behind the bar. "Keep 'em coming, boy, and when we sober up I'll make sure there's a nice _big_ tip in it for you." When the next two pints thudded into existence along with the vodka shots, he turned back to Amanda. "Your turn, I believe."
"Cheers." She dropped the shot in her pint and raised the glass to him. "Here's t' Doc Samson, who should be the richest shrink in the world with the work we give him."
"HAH! No lie about that - I still think the bastard's going to write a book on mutant neuroses." And then he hoisted his glass to Amanda, grinned, and polished off his next drink. "I'm still waiting for my tastebuds to go numb. This stuff is _nasty_. What did you call it again, Speckled Pig Ass or something like that?"
"Old Speckled Hen. Best beer in England, tho' London Pride comes in a close second. An' you could be drinkin' Fosters, so be nice." Amanda knocked off half the pint, paused to get her breath back, and then finished the rest, covering a small burp with her hand. "And again, mate," she told the barman, who by now was openly amused by what was going on.
"Yeah, this _must_ be the best England can do. I've tasted better in the asylum, and I'm fairly sure the guards were pissing in it." he said carelessly, then hoisted his (now topped-off) glass towards Amanda. "And this one's for Xavier, who gives mutie freaks a place to call home for a while."
She nodded, a little more emphatically than usual. "The X Geezer!" she chimed in, before downing the pint. "Who's apparently as mad as a boxful of badgers t' open his house t' a bunch of ungrateful brats like us, but I ain't about t' argue with him."
"Nor I." Manuel said as the attentive barkeep topped off their glasses. "This stuff might be having an effect. The barkeep's looking pretty good, you're looking even better, and as for me, I am just _stunning_." he grinned.
Amanda snorted beer up her nose at that, and had to pause, coughing, until she recovered. "No fair," she said, still laughing. "No makin' me drown in me pint." She considered, and held up her glass. "To fabulously handsome but horribly full of 'emselves Spaniards."
"Now _that_ I can drink to!" he grinned. "Here's to me!" he crowed, and drained his pint in a single long swallow. "Gaaaaah, still tastes like piss!" he said, thunking his pint glass down on the bar. "Another!" Manuel stared owlishly at his newly-refilled pint. Grabbing it, he lifted it at Amanda. "And this one's for you, the one person who keeps me sane when things get ugly." he said, apparently getting a little maudlin in his cups. "So this one's for you. You deserve it, and much, much more."
A rather pleased, silly grin crossed Amanda's face. "T' me," she said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Manuel's mouth (at risk of falling off the barstool) before leaning back and starting on the pint - she was slowing down a bit. "Y'know, just when I think yer a total bastard, you go an' say somethin' like that an' it makes me go all warm an' fuzzy inside. How d'you do that?"
"Sheer talent." he replied, then returned the kiss with some interest. "And it's _true_. You put up with my shit - I'm really not sure why, but I'm not complaining." As the barkeep refilled his glass, Manuel stared at him too. "You're cute too, don't you worry. But she's cuter."
"Too fuckin' right I am." Amanda nodded decisively, reaching for the new pint and managing to grab it on the second try. "An' there's compensations for the shit - that thing you do with yer tongue, for a start." She gave him a leer that possibly would have been more effective if she hadn't started sliding off the stool and had to right herself.
"Which thing? I have several things I can do, and _all_ of them are good." he grinned, leering right back at Amanda. He lifted his pint glass, stared at it as if it held the Deepest Mysteries of the Universe, shrugged, and drank it. Slower this time. "God, I must be getting drunk. That tasted good." he said to no-one in particular before dropping his glass back onto the bar. "And as for you, young lady, I will have you know that tongue-piercings are a wonderful goodness! Yes they are."
Amanda nodded, still working her way through the last pint. "All of 'em. You are a very bad man, an' I love every bit of it." Her grin turned smug. "An' that's exactly why I have the piercin'. 'Cause I like makin' people happy with it. 'S practically a public service." Her accent was thickening with the alcohol, and she had slumped a little onto the bar.
"Not anymore it isn't a public service." he grimaced. "No more whorin'! Take your sport when you want it, but you don't have to ta live anymore. You want somethin', you just ask me. I'll get it for you." he said generously, then sipped from his refilled pint. "Christ, I am getting drunk." he complained.
"Tha's 'cause yer not used t' English beer. 'S stronger than that piss they have in the States. Wouldn't touch that if I was on fire," Amanda proclaimed. "An' nope, no more bein' a tom. Don't need to no more - got meself a nice place t' stay an' lots of friends who tell me when I'm bein' stupid an' a right lovely boyfriend who drives me bonkers sometimes but who I'd never give up on. Ever. So, no more tongue piercin' for any Tom, Dick or Harriet." She snickered at her own cleverness. "I think you ain't the only one gettin' drunk here," she confessed, after another couple of swallows of beer.
Manuel lifted his refilled pint glass, and then sipped from it. "I seem to have acquired a girlfriend. Alphonso will just _shit himself_. I can't wait to introduce you. The old fart's gonna have a coronary right there in the entry hall, and then I'll inherit." he giggled, then took another few sips of his brew. "Serves the fucker right. He killed my Mom, did I tell you that? I'm sure of it. Probably poisoned her, that fucker. Watched her turned purple and gasp out her life. Probably got hard from watchin' it too." he mused.
"That... ain't right. Fucker shouldn't be able t' get away with somethin' like that." Amanda glowered at the mostly-empty pint, as if it was Alphonso himself, and a few random blue sparks rippled across her clenched fist. "Too bad I ain't got the power t' dump the bastard in that demon dimension."
"He won't." Manuel said drunkenly. "I'll get 'im eventually." And then he took a deep drink from his pint. "Yer not drinkin'." he said, staring owlishly at the general vicinity of Amanda's chest and/or the bar. "Giving up, are you? When did you become French?"
Amanda gave him a disgusted look at that accusation and finished off the pint, nearly sending the empty glass over the edge of the bar as she set it down. "I'll show you bloody French," she mock-growled. "An' I'm good for the rest of the night." Another pint and shot appeared, and she knocked back the shot straight, before tackling the pint. Possibly a bad idea, as her vision pretty much immediately doubled.
"Sure you are. You're always good for the night. Possibly longer." he leered, polishing off his pint, getting it refilled, and tossing back the shot just like she did. "Whooo boy." he said, eyes swimming. "Smooooth. And you're still gonna hit the floor bef ... befo .... before I do." he said, clearly slurring his English.
"What's this 'possible'?" Amanda asked with a smirk. "Yer the one still gettin' back his form, ain't you?" She drank a couple of mouthfuls of her pint, then paused, grimacing. "Oh fuck. Does throwin' up mean I lose?"
"It would be a very clear indicator that you're well on your way to giving it up to the marauding Spanish Armada, yes." he agreed with a silly smirk. "But if you are going to be most unladylike, I suggest you do it over there." he said, jerking a thumb unsteadily in the direction of the loo. "I'll wait for you to return before we continue. Unless you'd like to concede defeat to the superior liver?"
"Never." That obstinate look on her face, Amanda finished the pint and set it down, giving Manuel's pint a meaningful look. "The Spanish Armada's fallin' behind."
Manuel grabbed his pint, sloshing some of it over his hand, and drained it in a single swallow. Belching happily, he looked at Amanda blearily. "We do not _fall behind_." And then he waved unsteadily at the barkeep for another round for the both of them. "You're even cuter now that I'm really, really drunk." he said carelessly.
"An' yer almost charmin' now that I'm completely off me tits," she replied, struggling to keep upright. She looked at the pint that appeared in front of her with a sigh, and then took hold of the glass with a determined air. "An' you ain't gunna beat me, even if I end up needin' an ambulance after this lot."
Manuel peered. "Tits. Mmmm. I like tits." he leered, then took a deep swallow of beer. "You know, this stuff is starting to grow on me." he said thoughtfully. "It's not that bad. Should I call for the ambulance now?"
Peering down at her front, Amanda commented: "They ain't bad, are they? Too bad I can't show 'em off more, but Rack saw t' that." She propped her elbow on the bar and leaned her head on it, considering Manuel owlishly. "Yer a very good-looking bloke," she said, finally. "Not my type at all, usually, but very nice. An' talented, too. An' you put up with me. Fucked if I know why, but there it is."
Manuel grinned. "They're a little on the small side, but they're _very_ sensitive. I like that." he leered, then took a drink of his beer. "And I thought this was supposed to be a tolerant land and all that crap. So why not show 'em off a little? And I put up with you because ..." and then he took a long drink of his beer. "Because .. you put up with me first!" he said triumphantly.
She laughed at that. "Not hard t' do when I'm off me face on mystic happy vibes," she said. "Think I would've even put up with that pillock Rasputin if I'd run across him in that state." She took another swallow of beer, hiccoughed, and forced herself to take another. "An' you didn't mind me bein' high, you just joined right in. Guess you couldn't help it, tho' what with the Mirror an' all. But, that was some fuckin' incredible sex, remember?" she rambled, not really sure if there was a point to be made at all.
"Jesus, do I ever! I don't think that I've ever quite come like that before. I was very impressed." he said solemnly, then spoiled it by giggling into his beer as he drank. "Wasn't liking the giant pink demon, but the sex - the sex was incredible. I can still remember every touch. One of the few benefits to being an empath." He scowled at the mention of the Mirror, though. "I should get all pissed off about that, but I'm too drunk right now."
"Yeah, well, one good thing 'bout Rom's thingummy controllin' me power levels is there won't be any more demons. Nope nope nope." Amanda shook her head vehemently. "No more flyin', neither, or teleportin' people into hell dimensions t' rescue little girls that've been kidnapped by demons an' come back all weird an' scary, no more..." She paused. "I forgot what I was sayin'." With a shrug, she went on. "An' I don't know why you get so pissed off when I talk 'bout the Mirror. You do it, you can't help it, an' yer workin' on it. That's that. Ain't like you do it on purpose."
"Because when I think about the Mirror, I am reminded that I have no real idea who I am. I am just discovering who I am. And judging by what I have done, I am not a very nice person." he said bitterly, polishing off the rest of his beer with a belch. "I'm a monster. Oh, I look pretty on the outside, but on the inside? Pretty monsterous." he said, waving for the barkeep to top off his pint glass.
"Bullshit," Amanda said decidedly. "You ain't a monster. Yer pretty fucked-up 'cause of yer power, yeah, but you ain't a monster. _Rack_ was a monster - he liked hurtin' me for the fun of it, an' let me know that." She reached over to grab his hand, got it on the second try, and squeezed it empathically to make her point. "You ain't always a nice person, but then again, neither 'm I."
Manuel took another drink. "Yer slackin' ." he said, referring to her next pint. "And I do enjoy it sometimes. It's a rush - the feeling of power. There's nothing sweeter." Just then he burped loudly, and turned faintly green. "Drink, woman!" he barked at Amanda suddenly. "I mean, I've got this power. And it's strong, and nobody can do fuck to stop it. Why shouldn't I have a little fun. Besides, she was making fun of me. Mocking me, laughing at me. She deserved it. Every last little scrap of joy - she deserved it. I don't regret doing it." He took another drink of his beer to choke off his next words.
Amanda struggled through half of the pint, frowning. "What're you... what d'you..." She tried to ask what he was talking about, but the room was spinning now, and she knew she was in trouble. Suddenly winning wasn't so much of an option any more. Besides, there were feelings coming down the link that she didn't want to know about and there was an awful lot of beer in her stomach that wanted out rather abruptly. Staggering mightily, she made it to the toilets only just in time.
Manuel smiled, a cruel little smile, as he heard Amanda retch. He did take the opportunity to finish his pint, and then to get his emotions under control. The massive amount of alcohol did not help his efforts to get himself under control, but after he closed his eyes and concentrated on it with most everything he could muster, they finally started to calm down. "Feeling better? You've got a pint out here that is calling to you." he called into the toilets.
Amanda rested her cheek on the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl and groaned a little at Manuel's words. "Bastard," she managed weakly. "You win, all right?"
"What was that? I didn't hear you from all the way out here in the pub. You'll have to be a little louder." he said, still with the cruel little smile. The bartender shot him a look, but Manuel ignored it.
"Fuck you," Amanda muttered, pushing herself upright so that she was sitting on the cubicle floor with her back against the wall. "You win," she said, a little louder and not caring if he heard her or not.
Manuel smiled again. "I accept your gracious defeat." he said loftily, then spoiled it with a laugh. "Come on, let's get to bed. It's late, and we're both very drunk."
"Sure. Soon as I find my feet." Amanda made as if to stand, but the room spun so much again she was forced to abandon the attempt in favour of sticking her head over the toilet bowl again and heaving some more. "Or I could stay here. 'S comfy," she said at last.
"I am not leaving you in the toilet." Manuel stated quite firmly, but judging by his lack of progress off of his bar stool he had forgotten exactly how bipedal locomotion was supposed to work. "Feet. I have feet. I know how they work."
With what felt to her was superhuman effort (and the joke made her giggle a little), Amanda managed to drag herself up off the floor and out of the toilets. "Taxi. Now," she said to the barman, who was already hanging up the phone.
"Two ticks, love," he said, shaking his head at the pair of them. "Hope it was worth it."
Manuel stood up as well, albeit very wobbly. He dug around in his back pocket for his wallet. "Charge my card." he told the air to the bartender's left.
Amanda, in the meantime, was leaning heavily against the bar and concentrating very hard on not being sick again. She looked up as Manuel managed to complete the complicated task of signing the credit card slip and joined her. "Yer not gunna let me live this down, are you?" she asked somewhat pitifully.
"Why would I do a silly little thing like that?" he smirked at the Amanda-shaped blur next to him. "Do you think so little of me?" he grinned. "Of course I'll let you live it down. When it stops being so damned funny."
"Bastard," she said again, and slumped against him. "Take me home," she slurred into his side.
"Working on it." he said as the cabbie finally arrived. "Come on, we need to walk out to the cab."
"Grfarglemff," came the muffled reply, as Manuel had to half-drag Amanda out of the pub and into the cab. She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes, almost asleep by the time Manuel half-fell into the cab beside her.
"Now this is what English culture's all about. Smoky, dim room, nice comfy seats where you can park yerself for as long as you want, the regulars propped up at the bar an' proper beer in a pint glass." Amanda took a swallow of said beer and made a happy noise. "This is what it's all about." But before Manuel could make a disparaging comment about her idea of culture, she added. "So, this wager... This the one we came up with before I went t' Mexico? Whoever's left standin' wins?"
Manuel looked around the bar with amusement all over his face. "Yep. And, just like it should have been then, the English are going _down_ on the might of the Spanish Armada." he leered. Showing the years of alcoholic training under Alphonso, he drained his beer in two swallows, then made a twitching-eyelid face. "Gah, that's just vile. I _so_ prefer wine, but I've ceded the choice of venue and alcohol to you. And I'm -still- gonna outdrink you."
"Britannia still rules, or at least it will tonight." Amanda followed suit and downed her pint, setting the empty glass down on the bar with a thump and nodding at the bartender. He was a cheeky young Australian guy - it seemed that every pub in London had at least one Australian behind the bar - and he winked at Manuel as he brought over two more pints and two more vodka shots. "As for the goin' down... well, we can talk 'bout that later." She drank enough out of the pint to drop the vodka in, glass and all, and raised her eyebrow at him. "So, you win, we go somewhere you want, I dress however you want - within reason - an' I won't complain a bit. I win, an' you do the same. Deal?"
"Done!" he said loudly, and skimmed enough off the top of his pint to drop in the shooter. "I'm going to enjoy seeing you in a dress." he grinned at her. "Bottoms up?"
"The way the barman's givin' you the eye, it'll be yer arse, not mine," she said with a grin, taking advantage of his reaction to finish the drink seemingly effortlessly.
Manuel leered at Amanda, and then turned to the bartender to check him out as well. "Not too shabby, not too shabby." he said, and then quickly polished off his own drink. "But the only arse being plundered tonight is yours. Sorry, barkeep. Only so far I'm willing to go on the first date." he said while waggling his eyebrows at him. Turning back to Amanda, he looked at her with great amusement. "Round two, then?"
"Yer payin', so keep 'em comin'." She looked at him curiously. "An' I am startin' t' rub off on you if you ain't runnin' for the hills 'cause a bloke's takin' an interest."
Manuel shrugged. "No harm in the looking, I decided. Still not goin' there, but I can look, and be looked at, without freaking. Samson helped methrough it - it was awkward, but it helped." he said, waggling a finger at the Australian lad behind the bar. "Keep 'em coming, boy, and when we sober up I'll make sure there's a nice _big_ tip in it for you." When the next two pints thudded into existence along with the vodka shots, he turned back to Amanda. "Your turn, I believe."
"Cheers." She dropped the shot in her pint and raised the glass to him. "Here's t' Doc Samson, who should be the richest shrink in the world with the work we give him."
"HAH! No lie about that - I still think the bastard's going to write a book on mutant neuroses." And then he hoisted his glass to Amanda, grinned, and polished off his next drink. "I'm still waiting for my tastebuds to go numb. This stuff is _nasty_. What did you call it again, Speckled Pig Ass or something like that?"
"Old Speckled Hen. Best beer in England, tho' London Pride comes in a close second. An' you could be drinkin' Fosters, so be nice." Amanda knocked off half the pint, paused to get her breath back, and then finished the rest, covering a small burp with her hand. "And again, mate," she told the barman, who by now was openly amused by what was going on.
"Yeah, this _must_ be the best England can do. I've tasted better in the asylum, and I'm fairly sure the guards were pissing in it." he said carelessly, then hoisted his (now topped-off) glass towards Amanda. "And this one's for Xavier, who gives mutie freaks a place to call home for a while."
She nodded, a little more emphatically than usual. "The X Geezer!" she chimed in, before downing the pint. "Who's apparently as mad as a boxful of badgers t' open his house t' a bunch of ungrateful brats like us, but I ain't about t' argue with him."
"Nor I." Manuel said as the attentive barkeep topped off their glasses. "This stuff might be having an effect. The barkeep's looking pretty good, you're looking even better, and as for me, I am just _stunning_." he grinned.
Amanda snorted beer up her nose at that, and had to pause, coughing, until she recovered. "No fair," she said, still laughing. "No makin' me drown in me pint." She considered, and held up her glass. "To fabulously handsome but horribly full of 'emselves Spaniards."
"Now _that_ I can drink to!" he grinned. "Here's to me!" he crowed, and drained his pint in a single long swallow. "Gaaaaah, still tastes like piss!" he said, thunking his pint glass down on the bar. "Another!" Manuel stared owlishly at his newly-refilled pint. Grabbing it, he lifted it at Amanda. "And this one's for you, the one person who keeps me sane when things get ugly." he said, apparently getting a little maudlin in his cups. "So this one's for you. You deserve it, and much, much more."
A rather pleased, silly grin crossed Amanda's face. "T' me," she said, leaning forward to plant a kiss on Manuel's mouth (at risk of falling off the barstool) before leaning back and starting on the pint - she was slowing down a bit. "Y'know, just when I think yer a total bastard, you go an' say somethin' like that an' it makes me go all warm an' fuzzy inside. How d'you do that?"
"Sheer talent." he replied, then returned the kiss with some interest. "And it's _true_. You put up with my shit - I'm really not sure why, but I'm not complaining." As the barkeep refilled his glass, Manuel stared at him too. "You're cute too, don't you worry. But she's cuter."
"Too fuckin' right I am." Amanda nodded decisively, reaching for the new pint and managing to grab it on the second try. "An' there's compensations for the shit - that thing you do with yer tongue, for a start." She gave him a leer that possibly would have been more effective if she hadn't started sliding off the stool and had to right herself.
"Which thing? I have several things I can do, and _all_ of them are good." he grinned, leering right back at Amanda. He lifted his pint glass, stared at it as if it held the Deepest Mysteries of the Universe, shrugged, and drank it. Slower this time. "God, I must be getting drunk. That tasted good." he said to no-one in particular before dropping his glass back onto the bar. "And as for you, young lady, I will have you know that tongue-piercings are a wonderful goodness! Yes they are."
Amanda nodded, still working her way through the last pint. "All of 'em. You are a very bad man, an' I love every bit of it." Her grin turned smug. "An' that's exactly why I have the piercin'. 'Cause I like makin' people happy with it. 'S practically a public service." Her accent was thickening with the alcohol, and she had slumped a little onto the bar.
"Not anymore it isn't a public service." he grimaced. "No more whorin'! Take your sport when you want it, but you don't have to ta live anymore. You want somethin', you just ask me. I'll get it for you." he said generously, then sipped from his refilled pint. "Christ, I am getting drunk." he complained.
"Tha's 'cause yer not used t' English beer. 'S stronger than that piss they have in the States. Wouldn't touch that if I was on fire," Amanda proclaimed. "An' nope, no more bein' a tom. Don't need to no more - got meself a nice place t' stay an' lots of friends who tell me when I'm bein' stupid an' a right lovely boyfriend who drives me bonkers sometimes but who I'd never give up on. Ever. So, no more tongue piercin' for any Tom, Dick or Harriet." She snickered at her own cleverness. "I think you ain't the only one gettin' drunk here," she confessed, after another couple of swallows of beer.
Manuel lifted his refilled pint glass, and then sipped from it. "I seem to have acquired a girlfriend. Alphonso will just _shit himself_. I can't wait to introduce you. The old fart's gonna have a coronary right there in the entry hall, and then I'll inherit." he giggled, then took another few sips of his brew. "Serves the fucker right. He killed my Mom, did I tell you that? I'm sure of it. Probably poisoned her, that fucker. Watched her turned purple and gasp out her life. Probably got hard from watchin' it too." he mused.
"That... ain't right. Fucker shouldn't be able t' get away with somethin' like that." Amanda glowered at the mostly-empty pint, as if it was Alphonso himself, and a few random blue sparks rippled across her clenched fist. "Too bad I ain't got the power t' dump the bastard in that demon dimension."
"He won't." Manuel said drunkenly. "I'll get 'im eventually." And then he took a deep drink from his pint. "Yer not drinkin'." he said, staring owlishly at the general vicinity of Amanda's chest and/or the bar. "Giving up, are you? When did you become French?"
Amanda gave him a disgusted look at that accusation and finished off the pint, nearly sending the empty glass over the edge of the bar as she set it down. "I'll show you bloody French," she mock-growled. "An' I'm good for the rest of the night." Another pint and shot appeared, and she knocked back the shot straight, before tackling the pint. Possibly a bad idea, as her vision pretty much immediately doubled.
"Sure you are. You're always good for the night. Possibly longer." he leered, polishing off his pint, getting it refilled, and tossing back the shot just like she did. "Whooo boy." he said, eyes swimming. "Smooooth. And you're still gonna hit the floor bef ... befo .... before I do." he said, clearly slurring his English.
"What's this 'possible'?" Amanda asked with a smirk. "Yer the one still gettin' back his form, ain't you?" She drank a couple of mouthfuls of her pint, then paused, grimacing. "Oh fuck. Does throwin' up mean I lose?"
"It would be a very clear indicator that you're well on your way to giving it up to the marauding Spanish Armada, yes." he agreed with a silly smirk. "But if you are going to be most unladylike, I suggest you do it over there." he said, jerking a thumb unsteadily in the direction of the loo. "I'll wait for you to return before we continue. Unless you'd like to concede defeat to the superior liver?"
"Never." That obstinate look on her face, Amanda finished the pint and set it down, giving Manuel's pint a meaningful look. "The Spanish Armada's fallin' behind."
Manuel grabbed his pint, sloshing some of it over his hand, and drained it in a single swallow. Belching happily, he looked at Amanda blearily. "We do not _fall behind_." And then he waved unsteadily at the barkeep for another round for the both of them. "You're even cuter now that I'm really, really drunk." he said carelessly.
"An' yer almost charmin' now that I'm completely off me tits," she replied, struggling to keep upright. She looked at the pint that appeared in front of her with a sigh, and then took hold of the glass with a determined air. "An' you ain't gunna beat me, even if I end up needin' an ambulance after this lot."
Manuel peered. "Tits. Mmmm. I like tits." he leered, then took a deep swallow of beer. "You know, this stuff is starting to grow on me." he said thoughtfully. "It's not that bad. Should I call for the ambulance now?"
Peering down at her front, Amanda commented: "They ain't bad, are they? Too bad I can't show 'em off more, but Rack saw t' that." She propped her elbow on the bar and leaned her head on it, considering Manuel owlishly. "Yer a very good-looking bloke," she said, finally. "Not my type at all, usually, but very nice. An' talented, too. An' you put up with me. Fucked if I know why, but there it is."
Manuel grinned. "They're a little on the small side, but they're _very_ sensitive. I like that." he leered, then took a drink of his beer. "And I thought this was supposed to be a tolerant land and all that crap. So why not show 'em off a little? And I put up with you because ..." and then he took a long drink of his beer. "Because .. you put up with me first!" he said triumphantly.
She laughed at that. "Not hard t' do when I'm off me face on mystic happy vibes," she said. "Think I would've even put up with that pillock Rasputin if I'd run across him in that state." She took another swallow of beer, hiccoughed, and forced herself to take another. "An' you didn't mind me bein' high, you just joined right in. Guess you couldn't help it, tho' what with the Mirror an' all. But, that was some fuckin' incredible sex, remember?" she rambled, not really sure if there was a point to be made at all.
"Jesus, do I ever! I don't think that I've ever quite come like that before. I was very impressed." he said solemnly, then spoiled it by giggling into his beer as he drank. "Wasn't liking the giant pink demon, but the sex - the sex was incredible. I can still remember every touch. One of the few benefits to being an empath." He scowled at the mention of the Mirror, though. "I should get all pissed off about that, but I'm too drunk right now."
"Yeah, well, one good thing 'bout Rom's thingummy controllin' me power levels is there won't be any more demons. Nope nope nope." Amanda shook her head vehemently. "No more flyin', neither, or teleportin' people into hell dimensions t' rescue little girls that've been kidnapped by demons an' come back all weird an' scary, no more..." She paused. "I forgot what I was sayin'." With a shrug, she went on. "An' I don't know why you get so pissed off when I talk 'bout the Mirror. You do it, you can't help it, an' yer workin' on it. That's that. Ain't like you do it on purpose."
"Because when I think about the Mirror, I am reminded that I have no real idea who I am. I am just discovering who I am. And judging by what I have done, I am not a very nice person." he said bitterly, polishing off the rest of his beer with a belch. "I'm a monster. Oh, I look pretty on the outside, but on the inside? Pretty monsterous." he said, waving for the barkeep to top off his pint glass.
"Bullshit," Amanda said decidedly. "You ain't a monster. Yer pretty fucked-up 'cause of yer power, yeah, but you ain't a monster. _Rack_ was a monster - he liked hurtin' me for the fun of it, an' let me know that." She reached over to grab his hand, got it on the second try, and squeezed it empathically to make her point. "You ain't always a nice person, but then again, neither 'm I."
Manuel took another drink. "Yer slackin' ." he said, referring to her next pint. "And I do enjoy it sometimes. It's a rush - the feeling of power. There's nothing sweeter." Just then he burped loudly, and turned faintly green. "Drink, woman!" he barked at Amanda suddenly. "I mean, I've got this power. And it's strong, and nobody can do fuck to stop it. Why shouldn't I have a little fun. Besides, she was making fun of me. Mocking me, laughing at me. She deserved it. Every last little scrap of joy - she deserved it. I don't regret doing it." He took another drink of his beer to choke off his next words.
Amanda struggled through half of the pint, frowning. "What're you... what d'you..." She tried to ask what he was talking about, but the room was spinning now, and she knew she was in trouble. Suddenly winning wasn't so much of an option any more. Besides, there were feelings coming down the link that she didn't want to know about and there was an awful lot of beer in her stomach that wanted out rather abruptly. Staggering mightily, she made it to the toilets only just in time.
Manuel smiled, a cruel little smile, as he heard Amanda retch. He did take the opportunity to finish his pint, and then to get his emotions under control. The massive amount of alcohol did not help his efforts to get himself under control, but after he closed his eyes and concentrated on it with most everything he could muster, they finally started to calm down. "Feeling better? You've got a pint out here that is calling to you." he called into the toilets.
Amanda rested her cheek on the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl and groaned a little at Manuel's words. "Bastard," she managed weakly. "You win, all right?"
"What was that? I didn't hear you from all the way out here in the pub. You'll have to be a little louder." he said, still with the cruel little smile. The bartender shot him a look, but Manuel ignored it.
"Fuck you," Amanda muttered, pushing herself upright so that she was sitting on the cubicle floor with her back against the wall. "You win," she said, a little louder and not caring if he heard her or not.
Manuel smiled again. "I accept your gracious defeat." he said loftily, then spoiled it with a laugh. "Come on, let's get to bed. It's late, and we're both very drunk."
"Sure. Soon as I find my feet." Amanda made as if to stand, but the room spun so much again she was forced to abandon the attempt in favour of sticking her head over the toilet bowl again and heaving some more. "Or I could stay here. 'S comfy," she said at last.
"I am not leaving you in the toilet." Manuel stated quite firmly, but judging by his lack of progress off of his bar stool he had forgotten exactly how bipedal locomotion was supposed to work. "Feet. I have feet. I know how they work."
With what felt to her was superhuman effort (and the joke made her giggle a little), Amanda managed to drag herself up off the floor and out of the toilets. "Taxi. Now," she said to the barman, who was already hanging up the phone.
"Two ticks, love," he said, shaking his head at the pair of them. "Hope it was worth it."
Manuel stood up as well, albeit very wobbly. He dug around in his back pocket for his wallet. "Charge my card." he told the air to the bartender's left.
Amanda, in the meantime, was leaning heavily against the bar and concentrating very hard on not being sick again. She looked up as Manuel managed to complete the complicated task of signing the credit card slip and joined her. "Yer not gunna let me live this down, are you?" she asked somewhat pitifully.
"Why would I do a silly little thing like that?" he smirked at the Amanda-shaped blur next to him. "Do you think so little of me?" he grinned. "Of course I'll let you live it down. When it stops being so damned funny."
"Bastard," she said again, and slumped against him. "Take me home," she slurred into his side.
"Working on it." he said as the cabbie finally arrived. "Come on, we need to walk out to the cab."
"Grfarglemff," came the muffled reply, as Manuel had to half-drag Amanda out of the pub and into the cab. She rested her head against the window and closed her eyes, almost asleep by the time Manuel half-fell into the cab beside her.
