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

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

Combeferre holds out his rum, face still buried in Courfeyrac's leg. Hey, this is comfortable.

"Who'ver wantssssit c'n haaave it. Don'tthink I'll be upright enough to drink it."

A pause. "You're drunk 'nough, Bahorel. You're ev'n drunker'n meeeeee."

Then he sighs. "Enjolr's wooont approve of us being all drunk'n his livin'room. But I really miss Enjolras. Like, I really miss Enjolras. A lot."

[courfeyraccat]

"I don't think Combeferre's walking very good right now. It's why he's sitting in my lap." Courfeyrac nods at his own wisdom. "Maybe Bahorel can get you something, Bossuet. And there's no non-equality goin' on with the rum. I asked if I could have his rum. I didn' just take it like you did. 'S perfectly fine to ask for someone's drink. Then you can share. Enjolras would like sharing just fine."

He misses Enjolras. He misses him a great deal, and his hand stills on Combeferre's head. "I miss him, too. I want him home with us. I don't want him playing with lions and cannibals and tigers and sharks in Africa. I want him fighting stuff over here, so we can help him."

He has Combeferre here, though, and Bahorel, and Lesgles, and they're going to be leaving tomorrow to get Enjolras and Grantaire back. It's going to be okay. "And Enjolras can't get 'set about us bein' drunk here. 'S his fault. Him and stupid planes."

Leaning over, Courfeyrac kisses the back of Combeferre's head. "'Sides, he's not going to know. We won' tell him this part of our grand adventure of savin' him. It'll be our secret. Even Nerium won' tell."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"I cn por you some stff." Bahorel assures Lesgle. He sets his empty glass down beside himself, and clambers back to his feet. He almost loses his balance twice in the process, but manages not to fall back over.
Meandering over to the kitchen, he grabs a cup and a bottle of bourbon, and proceeds to pour about half of it onto the floor before getting a decent amount in the cup. He frowns at the bottle, takes a swig from it, and walks over to Bossuet to present him with the cup.

"It's not fair Enjls gets to hve allll the fun wthot us. He's offf fightng with liooons, n' sharks, n' koalas n' stuff, and weee're stuck here worryng." He shakes his head. "'S all th plannes fault. We shuld teach 'em. Tie 'm in big knots, 'n see if they cn crash then!" He nods. "If I hd a plaane now, 'd make it pay."

He takes another sip from the bourbon.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

"S'no koalas in Afrig--frica," Combeferre points out. Ever the pedant, even when drunk. "They've got lions though. An..and rhinos. I wanna see a rhino."

[courfeyraccat]

"We'll make sure you get to see a rhino." Courfeyrac continues to stroke Combeferre's hair. "Maybe we can bring home a pet rhino. And then we can have a pet rhino in the house made of bookshelves."

Turning to Bahorel Courfeyrac tilts his head to first one side and then the other. "I don' think you should tie the plane in knots. I don' think it'll help them be ar--air--aeronamic. Whatever the word is. And did you know that you're wet? Like, really wet? Your shirt's sticking to your muscles very nicely. 'S a good look on you."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

Bahorel plops down on the couch next to Courfeyrac with a grin. "Yeah?" Far be it from him to turn down a compliment. They're usually true.

"I kep n good shhape." He boasts, and drinks some more of his liquor.
Then, using the bottle, he makes a sweeping gesture at the other two on the couch. "Wern't we gonna sinng? Orr yous just gonna hve drnk sesky timmes on couch?" His brow furrows. "Iff's the scond one. 'll gve you room. Fnd my own thng to do. Ply vidos gme wth Lsegle, r's'mthing."

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

Combeferre shifts enough so that he can see Bahorel, and giggles. "You arree all wet. But I'gree, you look shexy like that." He pauses. "Don'worry, I'm not hitting on youuu. Jus' like looooookin'. You and--an--and Bossuet can play whatever you want. Or something."

Then he buries his face in Courfeyrac's lap. Combeferre is definitely enjoying that hair-stroking. "mmm. you c'n keep doing that. 'snice."

[courfeyraccat]

"Okay. 'snice for me too." Courfeyrac grins. He likes stroking Combeferre's hair. Combeferre is the best cat ever. "Let's put a game on, Ba'rel. I like watching you shoot things. It makes you happy, and I like seein' you happy. And I need 'nother drink."

He doesn't want to stand up to go get one, though. He wants to keep Combeferre in his lap. "Nerium, Bossuet, Ba'rel, can I have 'nother drink? Don' care what it is. Everything'll work right now."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"I knw." He replies to Combeferre's praise with a grin. Then sighs. "Shamme therres noone heere t' relly apreshiate it. 'R meybe no one tht I'd 'pprecate, apppreciatin' it. Mmm." He takes another drink of his bourbon. "Havn't been laaid in'while." He shakes his head. He should fix that sometime. Between dreams and new old memories and plans to save the world and new old friends and life... it's been awhile. Shame.
He kind of hopes Bosseut's camera is still on. It'd be funny to have 'Ferre calling him sexy on camera.

"Hre." He passes the bourbon to 'Fey, feeling proud of his act of generosity.

"I'll shoooot evrything." He's so good at these. He's gonna get the highest scores ever. Maybe make the game glitch he's so good.
I'd be sweet if Lessgle gets that on film... digital... whatever.

He gets off of the couch after a minimun number of tries, and goes to make sense of the game system hookups. And controller buttons. And discy things.

[decipheredhieroglyphics]

"I need bathroom," Combeferre announces. Then he stands up. Or tries to. "Gimme a hand, Courfyreac?"

His hair is all a mess and in his face from being petted.

[courfeyraccat]

"I can try to help." Courfeyrac very carefully sets the now less-full bottle of bourbon down and tries to stand up. It doesn't work very well the first time, and he falls back into his original position and sits there blinking for a moment. Gravity can be so annoying at times like this.

Glancing at Combeferre, he smiles and reaches out to comb Combeferre's hair down into a semblance of normalcy with his fingers. "You're cute. Know that? Real cute."

He's supposed to be standing up to help Combeferre. Pushing himself carefully to his feet, Courfeyrac manages to stay vertical and turns to offer Combeferre a hand up. "I c'n help. Prob'ly. And Ba'el, I don' think that disc goes 'n that console. 's not the right size."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"Sh't 'p. Knw what 'm doing." Bahorel grumbles, and continues poking the disc at the too-small slot in the console.

He keeps at it for a minute before he has a breakthrough.

Turning the disc upside down, he goes at it again.

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"That's not the right game," Combeferre says. "That's sooooo not going to fit in there. ..oof."

Combeferre trips and falls against Courfeyrac. "S'ry. Fell. I really gotta peee."

Using the coffee table and Bahorel's shoulder, Combeferre gets himself righted again, and stumbles off into the bathroom.

Nerium follows him, and he tries to nudge the kitty out of the bathroom with his foot. "Go 'way, Nerium, wanna pee in private." The kitten mews at him, and doesn't go anywhere.

"Bossuet, think your kitten needs to pee too."

Then Combeferre turns around to take care of his own business.

[courfeyraccat]

"Come here, kitten." Courfeyrac tries to pick up the kitten and only succeeds in driving it further into the bathroom. All right, then. It can keep Combeferre company. "Keep a good watch on him, Ner'um."

Turning away from the bathroom, giving Combeferre his privacy, Courfeyrac looks at what Bahorel is doing.

"'s really not gonna fit, Bahorel." Stumbling his way over to Bahorel, he collapses with his left arm across Bahorel's shoulders. His right hand tries to take the disc away from Bahorel. "Have t' find the right console. Or a dif'rent disc. Can try a different disc. Dif'rent shooty game."

[revolution_is_a_riot]

"Tha's wht shee said!" Bahorel calls in reply to Comferre's comment.
"Or... givn yor porrnns, mybe 'ths what heee said'd'" he amends.

Then he pitches forward as Cofeyrac falls across his shoulders. With the hand that's not holding the game disc, he barely catches himself. Though the added weight of his friend brings his face dangerously close to the console in front of him. Meanwhile, the game-holding hand flings itself wide to clear 'Fey's reach.

"Gettoff 'Fey." He protests. "'S mine."
In an effort to dislodge his attacker and guard his disc, he pushes himself back up with significant force. Not only does he succeed in getting back upright, but he, and his hanger-on, are driven backwards and into the floor, with Bahorel on top.