Ronan walks into the month late and with a cup of alcohol [open]

[somnioergosum]

who: Ronan and open
what: Open log. Ronan drinks and later he shops for his pets and brings along his raven and a dog.
when: Late December
where: A bar (ground floor of Trixie?) and a pet store respectively
warnings: Alcoholism, violence
notes: Can switch to brackets, message me if you’d like a different scenario


a. Putting that alcohol tolerance to good use

Ronan preferred to drink in private, before bed, and with his electronic music playing in his headphones. But moving in with his boyfriend had some drawbacks. His distaste for alcohol was one. As a result, Ronan was out doing exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

He went to a bar in the evening and had to deal with people talking around him. But he was here on a mission: drink as much as possible, as quickly as possible, and then think about nothing. And by God, he was going to do it.

He took a seat and glanced at the person next to him. “What’s that shit you’re having?”


b. Ronan should never name his pets

Ronan had never been in charge of the finances at the Barns. He didn’t handle it at Buttercup Farms either. So he was unprepared for how fucking expensive all his animals were. It was easy to keep Chainsaw happy. She’d eat anything. Dogs and cats? Jesus.

He walked into the pet store with his raven Chainsaw on his shoulder, as usual. But this time he had a dog with him, a young puppy with big paws, soon to grow into a fine dog. He was eating enough for it.

Thorpedo, as Ronan named him, was going to represent all the dogs in the house by choosing toys.

Should anyone be inside the pet store, this scene would unfold before them.

“Hey, mutt. Let’s get your crap.” When they reached the toy aisle, Ronan glanced around to verify no one was there, then grabbed a rope tug. “Hey, Thorpedo. What do you think?”

Thorpedo grabbed it.

“That’s my little shithead.” Ronan rubbed behind his ears.

And if anyone caught him after, Ronan hauled bags of dog and cat food, along with a small bag of toys, to his BMW while Thorpedo, still on a leash, trailed behind, carrying one chew toy and squeaking it periodically.

Comments

A

[ragnarsson]

Ivar was busy pickling his liver this fine night, though he wasn't looking to get drunk. All he wanted to do was get a pleasant buzz going on. He looked over at Ronan and a flicker of something passed over his face. That was the expression one got when he had kissed the boyfriend of the guy he had feelings for just to get them out of a situation that likely would have ended with Ivar impaling said boyfriend.

But he didn't feel guilty. Ivar never felt bad about anything he did.

"Boilermaker," he replied. "I highly recommend it."

oh boy

[somnioergosum]

It said something about Ronan's mental state that he failed to notice Ivar at first. It said even more that what he caught his attention was his drink. Once Ivar's presence registered, Ronan's look turned from one of apathy to hate. This feeling was a forest fire-- fast, uncontained, and ready to consume anything in it path.

Unfortunately for Ivar, Adam told Ronan exactly what had happened. In general, Ronan was surprisingly forgiving once his anger boiled over. This was one of the exceptions.

"You fucking bastard!" He jumped out of his chair, and swung his first right at Ivar's face. He hoped he hit his mouth.

I couldn't help myself

[ragnarsson]

Ivar had a feeling this was coming. So he didn't even try to defend himself when Ronan took a shot at him. It landed on his mouth and --Ow. Ronan knew how to throw a decent punch. Ivar very nearly fell out of his wheelchair, but managed to right himself in time. He worked his jaw around and looked up at Ronan.

"Are you done yet?" Ronan got that one free. If he tried that again, Ivar was going to make sure he went back to the hospital.

[somnioergosum]

"Am I done?" Ronan spat. He seized Ivar by his shirt. Oh fuck, he could hurl him out of that fucking wheelchair and smash his head against the counter. God only knew what stopped him from it.

Around them, people reacted by spreading out and away from any impending carnage. Ronan probably only had a few minutes before they were thrown out.

"What the fuck did I tell you!" He swung again.

He knew Ivar would fight back. He counted on it. Fuck the consequences and fuck him.

[ragnarsson]

Ivar had been in more than his fair share of scraps, many of them against his own brothers. He wasn't going to lie down and take this. He'd let Ronan get in his one free shot, but now he was fighting back.

He grabbed his shoulders and headbutted Ronan as hard as he could. Ivar didn't like relying just on his hands during a fight. That was a good way to damage them and if Ivar damaged his hands he'd be done. "Keep this up and I'll make sure you won't be able to eat anything solid for a month!"

[somnioergosum]

A crunch accompanied a sharp pain in Ronan's nose. He'd had broken it before. He had a feeling it'd just happened again. He'd deal with it later.

"I said don't even think about touching him. You've got no idea what he can do."

Ronan kicked Ivar's wheelchair back into a row of chairs. A dirty move, but Ronan knew that he wasn't defenseless in or out of it. He followed and reached for Ivar's head, planning to seize a fistful of hair, pull him up, and slam him against the counter.

Yeah, he'd changed his mind about that.

"This is what I can do."

[ragnarsson]

Ivar's anger hadn't really been properly stoked at the start of the fight. Apparently, he'd underestimated Ronan's fury, which became quite apparent when his wheelchair crashed into a bunch of chairs. Alright, now he was mad.

Fine, Ronan wanted to fight dirty, then all bets were off. He waited for a moment to see what Ronan will do, and when his hand reached towards him, quick as a flash, he bit down on it. Still, the Viking hadn't reached for his knives or axe. That was only going to happen when things got really bad.

a.

[brightline]

The whole 'actually legal to drink' thing is pretty new for Marco - it's not like he hadn't drunk before back home, but it was never really legal, just something he got away with because he was famous and people were willing to overlook things for famous people. So Marco had had a few drinks at parties and enjoyed it more than he felt totally comfortable with, and that was that.

But here, walking into a bar and ordering a drink is totally a thing he can do, and so every now and again, he does. Today is one of those days, and he's going the whole hog, sitting at the bar on a stool with a drink just like a guy in an old black-and-white movie, except way more cute than distantly handsome and without an awesome fedora. Oh, and not exactly drinking whiskey on the rocks either.

When the guy next to him asks what that shit he's having is, Marco raises both eyebrows, in an expression of mock offense.

"Excuse me? The piña colada is a perfectly valid and frankly classic thing to drink, okay?"

[somnioergosum]

"Classic? Unless you're warming up, it's an embarrassment." He actually didn't care that much, so there was no real bite to his voice. Most people had trouble telling the difference. "It's like drinking an advertisement for that shitty song."

A bartender came by and asked what Ronan would like at that point. He paused only to say "I dunno. Your highest proof beer." He looked at Marco. "Perfectly valid." Also a classic. Either this fact was lost on him or he ignored it, just like he'd ignored the price.

[brightline]

Marco, thankfully, is a connoisseur of the various types of sarcasm, having become adept at using them all from a very young age. So he gets it, the lack of bite, the invitation to engage in a bit of teasing.

"Ouch, okay, you can leave the 70s classics out of this okay? I just happen to like sweet, sweet tropical alcohol concoctions."

No need to mention that it's one of the few drink names he knows. He's almost 20, and not knowing these things is shameful. Super shameful. Especially around a guy who looks as handsome and surly as this guy.

When the guy orders a high-proof beer, Marco actually laughs, "Man, that's beyond valid. I'm like, still working my way up to beer. I figured I'd start with fruit juice."

[somnioergosum]

"Don't tell me this is your first time." Ronan was one of the worst people to encourage this. There was a good reason he was drinking here and not at home, where he faced his boyfriend's harsh but deserved judgment. He saw little to no need for moderation.

His lip curled. "Your homage to the 70s is an offense to alcohol. You’re here to murder your liver, not get a sugar high.” The minute Ronan received his drink, he set to work doing the former. By the time he set it down, a good portion of it had been lost to time and Ronan’s stomach.

sorry this is so late. new job blues.

[brightline]

"Nope. I haven't drunk a lot but I have. I just guess the taste just never grew on me like it does on most people. What can I say?"

A little shrug, and then when the other guy says it's an offense to alcohol and that he's here to murder his liver, not get a sugar high, and Marco laughs, abruptly.

"Okay, I'll agree with you on that one. I just don't see why I can't do both at the same time."

Marco winks at the guy and immediately tosses back half his drink - which leaves him with a bit of a brainfreeze. Wincing, he lifts his hand and presses it against his forehead, but he refuses to complain about it. He already looks super uncool next to this guy.

no worries I myself have the usual job blues

[somnioergosum]

Ronan didn't laugh at Marcos's misfortune, but the curl of his lip turned into more of a smirk. "Hey, don't rush it. You gotta save the hangover for tomorrow." His voice was wry.

Well, at least the guy tried. Poorly, but it was as funny as it was sad.

[brightline]

"Seriously dude, that was a brainfreeze, not an alcohol shiver. I usually only get those when I'm doing shots."

Not that he's done a lot of shots. Seriously, not being old enough to drink back home hadn't really ever gotten in his way, he was just, how you say...too paranoid to get drunk with anyone around, and doing it alone was way too pathetic.

"You know, you're like, probably the worst drinking buddy I've ever had."

Not that he's had many. Not that he's getting up to leave.

also A

[storradr]

Ragnar straightened slightly, at first not even sure if the question was directed at him. He tilted the stein in his hand, frowning slightly.

"I just asked for ale," He said with a shrug. The bartender had likely just given him whatever IPA they had on tap and left it at that.

"Why?"

He's going to have one hell of a headache

[somnioergosum]

Ronan paused when he got his first good look at Ragnar. But-- no way.

"Just checking my options." He looked Ragnar over and came to one conclusion: yes, way.

He'd seen Ragnar before in one of Ivar's memories. This man was younger, he didn't have the tattoos, and he didn't have his son on his back. But it was him. He was here. How happy Ivar must be.

"You're Ivar's father, aren't you?" Having identified him, Ronan stopped his scrutiny but didn't relax.

[storradr]

"Mm. It is... weak, if I'm honest," He smirked, giving the stranger a shrug. He probably wouldn't recommend it, but it was in his hand now, so he was going to drink it.

His eyebrows raised at the question. Well, not at the question specifically, but at the idea that he and Ivar looked similar enough that someone would guess they were father and son.

"I will be," Again, Ragnar smirked at his answer, amusing himself, "But I am not yet."

[somnioergosum]

"Well, that's got to be a mindfuck." Ronan noted that Ragnar didn't look bothered by it. Maybe he got his freaking out out of the way or maybe he didn't care.

He gestured to the bartender to order a drink. He went for vodka over ale. He needed the opposite of weak.

"Your son talks about you a lot." Ronan spoke carefully. His feelings for Ivar right now were very passionate and not in a good way, but he respected the love between father and son. He respected it enough to remember some manners. "Oh yeah, I'm Ronan."

[storradr]

Ragnar suddenly broke into a grin, looking a little taken aback and thoughtful. It had nothing to do with the sentiment behind what the young man said and everything to do with one single word.

"Mind fuck," He tried it out and grinned again, "Mindfuck. I like that. It was a mindfuck."

He couldn't stop smirking about this brilliant new word. It was so absolutely perfect and it summed up just about everything about this place.

"Does he?" He was baiting for more information, well aware that Ivar had an, almost strange, preoccupation with him, "You must already know my name."

[somnioergosum]

Ronan hid his own smirk. He was always willing to educate people in his favorite subjects: Latin, boxing, cursing...

"Man, you are gonna love modern English." Well, everything here was translated but that was where the word came from unless it had an origin Ronan wasn't aware of.

Ronan paused a moment to make sure he remembered the full name right. "Ragnar Lothbrok. Legendary viking warrior, yadda yadda." It occurred to Ronan too late that he probably shouldn't have mentioned how much Ivar talked about his father, given that most of their conversations revolved around the fact that both he and Ronan were orphans.

[storradr]

He tilted his head slightly, obviously trying to work something out.

"English? Spoken in... England now? Does that mean you are English?" He had to wonder when, or why, they stopped calling it Saxon and simply agreed upon English.

"Legendary," He echoed, grinning and trying to sound impressed instead of just laughing at the description, "It is a strange thing to know that there are so many others who know your name. I wonder if any of their stories come close to the truth."

A

[soulsflight]

Wow, he was a charmer! Claire recalled the days she would have snapped at him (or worse) almost fondly. However her temper was less likely to be riled now, though her being dragged to a new world had certainly irritated her.

"I'm not sure you can handle it." she swirled the contents of her glass, smirking, "Feeling adventurous?"

[somnioergosum]

Ronan gave her a dry look. He glanced at her drink once more before replying. "Feeling bored. What is it?"

He wasn't one to back down from a challenge, but he also wasn't going to waste his money on something weak.

[soulsflight]

A pair of aqua blue eyes sparkle in amusement. Well he was in for a surprise. Her drink was exceptionally weak. In fact, it was non-alchoholic.

"It's sparkling white grape juice." she sat back just enough that he could see the gun at her hip, "I don't like to get drunk."

[somnioergosum]

Ronan, who had been trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, simply stared at her when she revealed that yes, the drink was exactly what it looked like. The look in his eyes conveyed only one message: he was unimpressed.

"Save me a slice of that pristine liver. I might need it in thirty years."

By the time a bartender was asked what he'd like, several seconds later, he'd become disinterested. "Vodka and whatever's cheap."