Rule Britannia

[Ewan Dunsirn]

The clumsy drunk was already staggering on his way onward, forgetting his drinks and the girl he'd thrown them all over. It was, in a word, unacceptable. Ewan stopped the drunk, stepping precisely into the path he was treading.

“Now, that isn't very polite, is it?”

The drunk looked up, sneering. “What's it to you, eh?” A cockney. Southern degenerate.

“You ought t'pay the poor girl for that mess you've made,” Ewan countered, with a nod towards Sophia.

[Sophia Baxter]

I wasn't entirely out of my booth yet, half my backside was sliding off the cushion to eventually stand up right when another patron decided to intercede on my behalf. I was flustered, almost stuttering in response to his chivalry. "That... That really isn't necessary!"

The drunk wasn't paying attention to me any longer and I'm not sure if the other gentleman heard me.

"I ain't payin' 'er nuthin' nor apolgizin'. Now leave me be."

Oh dear. This is going to get more messy then my blouse I think.

"Seriously," I stand up and fumble with the zipper on my purse to close it, "I'm fine."

[Liam Dunsirn]

Liam stretched almost lazily there at the bar, his muscles tightening and bunching up under his fine white dress shirt. Something his cousin had picked out - not that he particularly cared what Liam wore, just that he cared what he wore when he was around him in public. Too many pronouns.

Ewan's target was blushing, mortified, terrified of making a scene. She didn't need to worry - everyone else was too busy worshiping at the altars of Bacchus and Eros to notice. Humans seemed to long for Gaia, to suckle at her teat and take in all the life-giving wonder of it all. But they grasped at substitutions, at chemicals to alter the mind and jobs and successes to celebrate in bars.

In bars, like this one. The blonde bird was weaving her way over to him again as he got another refill on his drink and Liam could see her friends wishing her well and trying their own luck with the rugby players. L'chaim! To life.

The booze was creating a philosopher out of him which always annoyed Ewan, who would be glad he was missing this, and he knew that he would be more than glad to help this child of Gaia - stunted and shriveled though she was, not a true child like him, nor a non-thing like his cousin, a demon if you will - to find a true purpose under the stars.

He liked to do it under the stars. The girls did too, at first. Until after.

Liam boisterously caught the girl around the waist and dragged her close for another cranberry kiss, his mouth pressed on hers, wanting, his tongue penetrating with primal urges. She was pretty drunk, most of her weight on him and uncaring at the catcalls they were receiving.

Too drunk. He set her back down on her feet as she'd risen up on her tiptoes, and whispered in her ear. Birds loved it when you whispered in their ears. Except when it was rejection. She frowned and stomped her foot and swayed unsteadily when he released her.

Liam went back to his golden elixir, watching the exchange between the drenched brunet and his cousin with interest.