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“No, you listen.”
The Orphaner Dualscar, standing tall yet slightly slumped over, paces only two steps’ worth of back and forth in front of the entrance to her cabin. Below deck, empty bottles of the most expensive and rare liquors roll around at a snail’s pace with the tilt of the ways. Save for a few small candles, the dim light hides the shapes of most of the goods stashed here.
Mindfang stands with her arms crossed, intent on somehow making her way past this hideously dear and drunk fool of a kismesis. Inside her cabin was her beloved recuperacoon, the truest and most valuable lover that never disappointed her in the slightest. Oh, sweet, sleep.
Perhaps the rambunctious pillaging of the day and the exhaustion that followed hindered her judgment. Showing Dualscar her stash of soporifics had been planned since before they departed. She made sure to mention how none in her collection were for the weak-hearted, how she had seen the strongest trolls fall after a gulp of any of them, and how she was positively certain he would be out after a few mere sips.
Naturally, he challenged her, just as she expected.
At first, it was hilarious to watch him scowl as she leaned against a crate with her arms folded and her eyebrow arched. When he began to slow down, she would let loose a few verbal proddings to get him going again. Really, done so soon? Did I ever tell you about the man I met that could drink three of those in one sitting? Don’t tell me you’re buzzed!
Now that she had her fun listening to his slurred speech and watching his balance dramatically shift with every step he took, sleep beckons her more than anything else. Perhaps it is karma that finds it entertaining to plant his ass straight in front of the door to her cabin when he finally sits down.
“I no longer have any desire to listen because your voice is giving me an incurable headache.”
Dualscar groans, head lolling to the side in a way that makes her hopeful for a chance of passing out. Unfortunately, his head lifts, his mouth a sputtering motor.
“No, listen, shut up, just listen, just listen, one second,” he rambles, waving his hand dismissively in her direction. “Your impatience is fucking astounding. Here I am, the fucking epitome of a chivalrous kismesis, drinking all of your goddamn liquor because you can’t even, you can’t EVEN stomach it!”
Mindfang narrows her eyes and glares at him, but he continues.
“But that’s. This is precisely why. You’re just. The worst. You’re the worst, of the worst.”
“Oh, darling, you’re making me blush. Move.”
“No, there’s no- there’s no moving over here! You gotta hear me. Listen, Mindfang.”
She moves forward, boots clacking against the wooden floor as she attempts to step over him. His hand shoots out and firmly grips her calf.
“Release me,” she spits, glaring down at him, but he returns her look with a matching intensity.
“Mindfang, Mindfang.” He keeps enunciating the last syllable and holding it out far too long.
The worst begins when he starts to sing. It’s to the tune of an old shanty, one her crew would sing from time to time, but his words and the timing of the melody fit poorly.
“I hate you, you’re the worst, I hate you, you’re the worst, I hate you, you’re the worst!”
And he has the gall to slide his hand further up her leg, up to her thigh, and she traps his hand beneath her nails and digs in hard before roughly shoving his hand off. He proceeds to pull on her leg with his opposite hand, causing her to fall awkwardly to the side.
Infuriated as her knees hit the ground, she growls and grabs him by the shirt collar, smashing her face against him for a violent kiss.
A kiss that is not being returned.
Noticing, she pulls away to see that her kismesis has fallen asleep. She releases him and he falls backwards, already beginning to snore. Frustrated, she steps over him again, yanking open the door with the possibility of smacking Dualscar right in the head. Before entering, she glances down one last time.
“Hate you, you’re the worst.”
She rolls her eyes and slams the door behind her.