Drinking Party At 'Ferre's

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

Who: Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Bossuet - the Amis not lost in Africa (Joly, Jehan, you wanna come play too? -- no idea about Marius/Feuilly?)
Where: Combeferre's apartment.
Notes: Amis converge on 'Ferre's apartment for a night of drinking before they get serious about going after Enjolras and Grantaire who are currently, to their best knowledge, marooned somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Africa and very possibly in danger.

Status: ONGOING!

--


Combeferre had a little time before his friends came over, and decided to fill up the fridge a bit. He had been emptying it, part because he didn't want to leave anything perishable for when he was out of the country, and part from a lack of desire to trudge through the grocery store.

He picked up snacks and another six pack at the store, trusting that Bahorel and Courfeyrac at least would bulk up the booze supply, then, on the way back, stopped at the bookstore for some crash courses in Swahili. Maybe it wouldn't help, but it couldn't hurt -- better a chance of the locals speaking that than English or French, anyway.

Combeferre couldn't help worrying. Eight days now, with no word from Enjolras or Grantaire. He was still utterly and completely certain that Enjolras couldn't be dead, and he was less certain that Grantaire was stubbornly stuck to his side -- like, Courfeyrac had said, a barnacle. It was an apt description, anyway. He didn't expect, not really, that he and the others could just fly into Nigeria and take a powerboat down the river and find Enjolras and Grantaire huddled alone in a makeshift hut, ready and waiting to be rescued. No. If he knew Enjolras at all, his friends certainly weren't going to be waiting at the crash site--wherever it might be. He knew they'd have to find the crashed remains of the plane and ascertain a trail before they had any hope of finding Enjolras. And God knows how long that could take. Still, he wasn't despondent and he would hold out hope.

But what he shouldn't be doing, and he knew it, was worry himself to death. So he ruthlessly cleaned out the rest of the things in the living room. He piled the unsorted boxes in Enjolras' bedroom -- he considered it small payment for the worry and fuss his friend had been putting him through -- and tossed out all the old takeout remains from the past week. He figured it was clean enough for his friends, and loaded up the first Rosetta Stone disc while he waited for the others to arrive, or text him for directions.

Comments

[courfeyraccat]

"Warfare Naval Combat. I like it. It's a mouthful of a name, and you don't get long game names all that often. I think we should play that, if four people can play it."

Combeferre wants to try rum. And he wants another beer. Courfeyrac can manage that. Grabbing another beer out of the fridge, he frowns at the bottles. Did they get more rum? He's not sure. Oh, well. At least he knows where one bottle is.

Walking back over to Bahorel, he leans against his arm and pulls on the rum bottle. The first time he reaches for the rum with the hand that already has the beer bottle in it. That doesn't work so well, and he carefully transfers the beer to his other hand before reaching for the rum, leaning more heavily against Bahorel as he does. "Combeferre wants that, so we're pillaging it, my bonny pirate."

Was he ever a pirate? Maybe. He's not sure, and he really doesn't want to start searching for memories right now.

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"I don't think 'bonny' is a good pirate word." Bahorel protests with a frown. He holds the rum out away from Courfeyrac. "It sounds like a girly hat."

"Stop grabbing, 'Fey. You don't pillage from pirates, they pillage from you." He shoulders him gently (he thinks) out of the way. "I can pour 'Ferre some rum."

He grabs a new cup, and pours some rum into it, mostly succeeding in getting it in the glass. Then he hands the cup of liquid out to Combeferre. "Here ya go."

"I don't know my pirate name. But I definitely was one."
He plops back down by his own cup, and rescues another game piece from Nerium. "Stop it, fuzz."

The world is getting a little fuzzy. He's had a good bit of alcohol. He's not drunk to incapi.... incapata.... not being able to do stuff yet. But he's had a good bit.
He sips some more rum.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

Nerium meows threateningly at Bahorel and then runs into Combeferre's leg.

"Rum." He drinks it, and it burns going down. Blinking fiercely a few times, he decides he likes the burn. "S'good."

Then he reaches down and picks up the kitten by the scruff of its neck. Nerium meows again and starts kneading Combeferre's lap. The damned kitten seems to like him better than Bahorel and Courfeyrac, which is fine with him as here on his lap Nerium won't be eating any battleships.

"Fifteen men on--onna dead man's chest," intones 'Ferre right before another gulp of the rum. Which sets him to coughing.

[courfeyraccat]

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!" Courfeyrac grins, raising the beer in toast as he straightens back up following Bahorel's push. "I think I need a glass of that, too, if we're all going to be pirates. Pirate karaoke time!"

He tries to think of pirate songs. Combeferre already stole the literary one. That's all right. He can be non-literate.

Wait. That's not quite the right wording.

Ah, well. Leaning against Bahorel again, since he's the closest one, more on guard for sudden violence, Courfeyrac starts the song. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for us!"

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"No games then? Time to sing." Bahorel tosses the little plastic ship back into the Trivial Pursuit box.
"Where's the music? Or are we doing oc.... um... just voices."

He takes another swig of rum, and picks up the line after Courfeyrac. Why he can't remember certain words, but he can remember the pirate song, he doesn't know.

"We pillage, we plunder we rifle and loot. Drink up me hearties, yo ho!"

Oh. Maybe that's why.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

"Um... da da da da.. something. I don't know the words. I was never a pirate." He notices an unopened beer in front of him. "I thought I finished my beer."

"I've never been any good at singing."

Now Combeferre has his glass of rum in his left hand, a beer in his right, and a purring kitten in his lap. He's really not sure what to do now.

[courfeyraccat]

"You don't need to be good at singing." Courfeyrac tries to move over to Combeferre and stumbles. Why does gravity not seem to like him recently? He doesn't think he's done anything to annoy her. "It's the spirit of the thing. Just find a song that you like and sing it! It doesn't even have to be a pirate song. Though there're probably more pirate songs you know."

He thinks there was something about being close to Combeferre that he was supposed to be remembering. Not getting too close? Was that it? Maybe. Since he brought him the beer, though, it's probably all right to stay just a little close.

Settling down on the floor, because standing's too much work, he rests his head on the couch by Combeferre's leg and reaches out to pet the kitten. "How about this one? 'Oh, better far to live and die under the brave black flag we fly than play a sancti-ti..monius part with a pirate head and a pirate heart!"

Is it all right for them to be pirates? He supposes some of the pirates had legitimate reasons for doing what they were doing--reasons other than greed. And Enjolras would look awesome standing on a ship, with the wind and the waves and the rest of them behind him, ready to pillage in the name of justice and equality. Like a Robin Hood pirate.

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"Or if you don't want to sing like a pirate, that's okay too." Bahorel offers, "you wouldn't have been a pirate anyway. Sing something closer to you. Like..." He waves his glass around, at a loss, "A song about books? Do they have songs about books? There's gotta be some geek songs out there."

He finishes off his glass of rum, and with a grin, plops down on the floor, on the other side of Combeferre, mirroring Courfeyrac. The alochol is definitely getting to him now. It feels good.

It's a little weird to pet the kitten while it's in 'Ferre's lap. But the little guy is soft and fluffy. Let 'Ferre protest if it bothers him.

After a moment he realizes he's quietly singing Indestructible by Disturbed. Given how fast-paced the song is, he's really quite impressed that he's getting all the words right. He thinks.

Fucking awesome song.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

Fuzzily, 'ferre thinks that maybe if he were sober he'd find something wrong -- or at least funny -- about the thought of two of his friends petting a kitten that's currently sitting on his lap, but right now he just thinks it makes sense. After all, the kitten is soft and pettable, and it's not like they're petting him.

Well, maybe Combeferre wouldn't mind if they petted him. Hmmm.

"I'm not much of a singer, Courfeyrac," he slurs the name a little. "That's 'kay though. I like that one Bahorel's singing."

[aneaglefarfromhisnest]

Bossuet grinned, watching Nerium get plenty of love and attention. At least 'Ferre had the good sense to keep him away from the edible game pieces.

Raising his phone, he snaps a picture of Bahorel petting the little fuzz ball. Grantaire will appreciate this, and he has no intention of letting Bahorel ever forget or deny this moment.

"We're singing now? Can't we just meow instead? Might sound better."

[courfeyraccat]

"'Determination that is incorruptible, from the other side a terror to behold, annihilation will be unavoidable...'" Courfeyrac trails off, frowning as he considers the words. "Do you ever get the feeling that a whole lot of songs could be applied to us? Or am I just thinking about things way too hard?"

He scratches Nerium under the chin, earning a purr from the kitten and causing her to start kneading with her claws. At least it's a good image, thinking of them with a song like 'Indestructible'. Lions and tigers and black mambas beware, when facing Enjolras and Les Amis annihilation is unavoidable.

Turning to Bossuet, currently taking pictures of them, he grins. "We can totally start meowing songs. We can meow Christmas carols, and put all the barking dogs to shame."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"I'm not sure I know how to meow." Bahorel confesses. "I think we should leave it to the little expert here." He pats the cat on the head. "I bet he's got a great meowing voice. He'll make all the girl kitties swoon."

Bossuet is taking pictures of the kitten. Maybe they'll put up cat videos after all.

He nods to 'Fey. "There's all kindsa songs about us." He says knowingly. "Lots of them are really cool, too. Lots of fighting and awesome." He looks a little more somber for a moment. "People love a good fucking tragedy."

He decides he needs another beer, and stands up to retrieve one. He runs into the corner of a table on his way, and lets out a few curses, but otherwise succeeds in getting his liquor.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

'Ferre finishes off the rum in his glass, then reaches over and gives the empty glass to Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac had given it to him, so it only makes sense to give the glass back when he was done. Right?

He scritches the kitten's ears while Bossuet takes pictures, hoping that the pictures focus more on the cat and less on, well, him. Combeferre's not really self-conscious, nor does he consider himself anti-camera, but the last vestiges of his rational brain don't want to see evidence of how drunk he was later.

"Therrree's a hu--whole musical about us too, didja know that?" 'Ferre notices he has a beer in his hand still and opens it. "Best leave singing to the professionals. And the meowing."

He watches, fascinated, as Nerium stretches out under the petting and yawns.

[aneaglefarfromhisnest]

Bossuet snaps some more pics.

"Smile, Ferre! These are so going online. Grantaire and Enjolras will love them. Aww, the little one's getting tired."

[courfeyraccat]

"Does this mean we have to put him to bed?" Courfeyrac looks down at the kitten in disappointment. "We shouldn't let him stay up too late. Grantaire would think that we're bad cat-uncles."

He has an empty glass in his hand somehow. Right. Combeferre had given it to him. It shouldn't be empty. It should have more rum in it, so that Combeferre can continue to relax and look adorable with a cute kitten on his lap. Holding the glass out to Bahorel, he smiles. "Combeferre needs a refill."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"Surre." His voice sounds a little funny.
He takes the glass from Courfeyrac, and walks over to the bottle of rum to refill it.
Pouring rum into the cup is harder than he remembers it being. His hands get wet, as does the carpet, and his pants. He frowns down at them. That's not where rum should be.

Standing up with the glass he wanders back over to the couch, and takes a seat next to 'Ferre.

"'s a party, no'one needss to go sleep on time." He laughs "No cat classes tom'rrow. Or iff he did, 'd bet he'll sleep through." He looks fondly at the little thing.
"It'd be cool to be ' cat."

He takes a drink of the rum.

"Sleepin' alll day. Pret'ndin to kill... little things. Chewing on fingers. 'Smaybe toes."

[aneaglefarfromhisnest]

Bossuet bursts out laughing as Bahorel spills wine down himself. Deciding he's not quite drunk enough yet, he decides to remedy that.

"He'll sleep when he's ready, shouldn't be a problem. Here, Bahorel. So it doesn't look like you've had a little accident at your great age!"

He grabs a beer for himself and a wad of paper towels for his friend.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

As if on cue, Nerium jumps neatly onto Bahorel's head and mews. Combeferre finds this hilarious.

"Hope you're still recording, Bossuet."

Combeferre frowns. "I never sleep through class. I like class. Learn things." He leans his head back against the couch. "I like things. Learning things. sfun."

[courfeyraccat]

"We like you liking things, Combeferre. And learning. It's what you're supposed to do. Learn and teach." Courfeyrac frowns at Bahorel drinking from the glass. "And you're not supposed to have that! It was supposed to go to Combeferre."

Courfeyrac tries to take the glass of rum away from Bahorel. Hopefully with Nerium on his head as a distraction it won't be too hard.

[aneaglefarfromhisnest]

"Don't you dare spill that on Nerium!" Bossuet shouts. Nerium, he strongly suspects, would not be pleased by an alcohol bath. Or by being disturbed from his new and comfortable perch atop Bahorel's head. Bossuet took a moment to be very thankful that his own head did not apparently make an acceptable perch. He had no hair to cushion the little feline claws.

[revolution_is_a_riot]

Suddenly, the fuzzball is on his head. "What thh-!"

He tries to look up at it, but moving his head back causes the cat to dig little claws into his scalp. "Ow!" He quickly levels his head again.

Just in time to see Courfeyrac coming for his rum.

"Woah!" He jumps back, and up onto his feet. Trying to not spill the rum, or the kitten in the process.

It would have worked too, if the alcohol wasn't messing with his coordination. He stumbles as his weight shifts to his feet, and his inebriated sense of balance sends him backwards onto the floor.

Nerium, not one to go down with the ship, takes off from his head as he falls, and lands neatly, perfectly dry, a few feet away. The kitten huffily licks himself, and toddles off towards Bossuet. Bahorel gets a nice upside-down view of the kitten's haughty departure.

The glass of rum splashed about half of it's volume onto his chest and the floor next to him, but thanks to his efforts, the rest was retained in the cup.

With a sigh, Bahorel props himself up far enough to take nice long swig.