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It was their last chance for a bar night before the party reached Dormont, and what awaited them there. Isabeau and Odile, at least, were determined to make the most of it.
“Okay, you two. Drinking games. What have we got?”
“I vote for a pun-off.”
“No,” Madame Odile hissed. Siffrin giggled into their cowl. “I suppose you have a better idea, Siffrin?”
“Um!” The rogue looked up, eye wide. “...no?”
“Hm. What about… ‘Never have I ever?’” Siffrin made a face. Isabeau chuckled. “A no for that, then.”
“We don’t have any cards, and this isn’t the sort of place for more raucous games…” Odile grumbled. Then, she smirked. “Then, what about Truth or Dare? Or, I suppose, Truth or Drink?”
“Oh?” Isabeau started to smile. “Instead of dares, you take a shot?” At Odile’s nod, and Siffrin’s reluctant thumb’s-up, Isabeau grinned and left to get a bottle and some shot glasses. When he returned, a few ground rules were decided upon: They couldn’t really keep things even, exactly, so in a closer to spirit to never-have-I-ever, you had the option to answer the question, or drink. It was the best compromise they could find on short notice.
“Alright, I proposed, so I’ll go first. Hm… Isabeau!” Odile smirked at the defender. “How’d you score on your Defender entrance exams?”
Isabeau… didn’t quite grimace, and he covered it with a grin quickly enough. “Very well, for your information! Top of my class on the academic portion. About… fourth in the physical exams, if I remember right?”
“Really?” Odile asked, eyes wide. “I… wouldn’t have expected that. Have I been misjudging you, Isabeau?”
“That’s a second question, M’dame!” Isabeau grinned cheekily. “Sif! How long have you been traveling, without settling down anywhere?”
“Oh!” The rogue jumped. “Uh… maybe twelve years? Give or take a few?”
“Really?” Odile looked at Siffrin. “That’s a long time to not put down roots. I’ve not been back in Ka Bue for several years, but not that long.”
Siffrin ran a gloved finger along the rim of his shot glass. When it failed to produce a noise, he dipped one finger into the liquor and tried it again. A ringing sound followed. “Odile… how old are you?”
There was no hesitation. Odile tossed back her shot and refilled her glass. “I’ll never tell.”
“Ha!” Isabeau barked out a laugh.
“Well then, I turn it around. Siffrin, how old are you?
Siffrin drank his shot. He stuck his tongue out at Odile after swallowing the liquor. “Isa, if you had to eat one food every day for the rest of your life, what would it be?”
Isabeau blinked. “Huh! Hadn’t thought about it… I guess… potatoes?” Siffrin made a face, and Isabeau quickly tried to backpedal. “It’s just! You didn’t say they had to be a certain way, and potatoes can be prepared in so many ways. Variety is important!”
“Betrayal,” Siffrin whispered. Odile just laughed.
“Alright! M’dame, what are you researching?”
Odile took the shot. “Unfair, you know I won’t say.”
“You might, after enough shots!”
“Ha!” she barked. “Hm… Siffrin, have you ever worn a dress and liked it?”
Tricky, combining two questions in one. Siffrin just smirked. “I have! It’s been ages, it feels like. Isa, do you sing?”
“I… do not,” Isabeau admitted. He locked eyes on Siffrin. “What sort of dress did you like wearing?”
“Gems alive, Isabeau.”
“What! It’s a valid question!”
“Um…” Siffrin had to think for a minute, trying to dredge up the memory. “It had… lace on the top, but not on the inside because that’s itchy. And the skirt was full of… straight lines?” They visibly floundered, making a few meaningless gestures in the air. “So! When I spun, the skirt sort of… bloomed outwards?”
“A pleated skirt, with lace accents…” Isabeau muttered.
Siffrin hid their face further in their cowl. “Uh… Odile, how much schooling have you done?”
“Schooling? Oh, my level of education.” She grinned. “Two doctorates, an honorary Master’s, and some undergrad work.”
Isabeau whistled. Odile took a moment to bask in the implied praise. “Isabeau, if you could be a Craft type other than Protective, which would it be?”
“Creative,” was the immediate reply. “I like making things. You can make things just fine with Protective craft, but it’s supposedly not as versatile as Creative. I’d like to see what the actual difference is.” He nodded. “M’dame, how many close friends did you have growing up?”
Odile made a face, and downed her shot. “I suppose the questions have mostly been easy ones…”
As though she’d thrown down a glove, the questions got harder, more personal, or in some cases abstract. Siffrin did not know how to play any musical instruments (that they could remember). Isabeau wanted to have at least three children once he finally Bonded; he’d grown up in a big family. Odile could not sing; neither could Isabeau. Siffrin could and was asked to prove it, leading to a short intermission where Siffrin approached the ragged band in the pub and, with lucky accompaniment, sang the opening to a popular Poterian opera. Odile and Isabeau traded questions back and forth for a while, until Siffrin’s terminal embarrassment subsided. There were a few rounds where they tried different tongue-twisters in different languages; Siffrin didn’t exactly dominate the discussion, but they fared the best… until asked to write or read any of the languages they supposedly spoke. They all got progressively more inebriated as the night wore on, and if any of them wanted to be up and about before 2 PM the next day, they needed a final round to end things.
“Okay, okay… Isabeau,” Odile slurred slightly, “What… is your biggest kink?”
Isabeau immediately took the shot. Odile booed, then nearly collapsed laughing into her own drink.
“Funny, is it?” Isabeau shot back. “Well then! Sif! ...are you secretly an assassin here to kill us all?”
“Shattering gems, Isabeau, I was drunk! I can’t be held responsible for what I said!”
“But the fact that you said it at all is hilarious! You get ridiculous when you’re drinking, M’dame!”
“Oh, like you’re any better, Mr. ‘I’m so subtle about my...nevermind.’”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, m’dame!” Isabeau and Odile laughed, despite the flush riding high on Isabeau’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the liquor. After a few moments, the laughter died down.
Siffrin did not drink.
Isabeau wiped tears from his eyes, then paused, seeing the still-full shot glass in front of the rogue. Odile did much the same, but after a moment she squinted. “Siffrin?”
The rogue jumped. “I! I mean… not all of you?”
Isabeau just blinked. Odile felt alarm push through the alcohol haze. “You-- the King? You’re here to kill Mirabelle?”
“Wh-- no!” Siffrin laughed, not acknowledging Madame Odile grabbing for her journal and Isabeau’s stare. “I’m here for you, Madame Odile!”
Siffrin started rummaging through their cloak. After a moment, they put a folded sheet of paper on the bar table, and opened it up. On it was a Crafted picture of Odile, as well as a description of her appearance in Ka Buan script, notes on her movements, and a listed four-figure sum of money.
“One of your academic rivals didn’t like your last paper, I guess?” Siffrin smiled, the expression a little lopsided. “Given everything that’s happened, I was gonna wait until after we fought the King to ask if you had a counter-offer.”
Siffrin drained their last shot, and stuck out their tongue. “I don’t usually do this, so feel honored! I’ll accept payment in any form except croissants!”