Adjutor stops completely at Abigail's words, hand going slack as a sudden chill steals over him.
Well...we just got friend-zoned...
For a few moments, Adjutor sits there, doing his best to not lose his composure completely and, by some miracle, succeeding. He then takes another moment to be certain that he's collected himself before speaking, ever so slightly frustrated that he can't seem to wipe the simple sadness from his expression and settling for not meeting her eyes.
"Of course," he says, sounding like a machine with a more than a few gears slipping, "My apologies for that, I suppose I misunderstood a bit back at the bar. Thank you for clearing that up."
The room was suddenly suffocating, the walls feeling like they were pressing in around him, throat constricting as he tried to hold back...hold back...He needed to separate himself, need to isolate himself, needed a moment to think.
"Armos," Adjutor whispers, mana flooding the Armogarians as the metal pours out, encasing him in a paper-thin shell of unbreakable metal that did nothing to hide what his demeanor already betrayed. Even with the helmet concealing his face completely he remained hunched over, the very image of someone defeated so soundly that their will to stand again had been broken.
...I suppose it can't be helped. I mean...fuck. Look at us. I'm honestly surprised she didn't just run when she saw the eyes. Hell, I'm-
Oh goddammit don't you start this shit again.
Xarrest, look at us. An amalgam of two souls of beings from entirely different dimensions contained within a single body. Souls that have been further warped by soul-bonds with two Elementals. These damned tattoos, these unnatural eyes, do I need to continue? We're an academic curiosity for her, not even-
Okay, let me just say that if we weren't stuck in the same body right now, you'd already be on the floor, bleeding from the where I slugged you harder than that pirate. How fucking dense can you get?! Has it never occurred to you that maybe you just don't happen to be her type, or maybe your little story time killed the mood?! Pantheon's sake, for all the crazy shit we've done over the years, I suppose I've forgotten how much of a coward you can be sometimes. You got friend-zoned, so what?! Now you're just giving up?! Just going to write yourself off as a fucking sideshow freak?! Get over it. You met a cute girl, had a few drinks, things didn't work out. Things don't always work out, dammit, so get over yourself and look on the bright side. We have a proper friend now, and not just someone who likes us for our ability to enact her twisted-ass torture fantasies.
What evidence do you have that I'm-
A coward? Let's see, I'm basically having to force you to introduce yourself to other people, and you've been putting yourself down at every opportunity. Hell, it's like you're trying to push them away! You're afraid to get close to someone!
Can you blame me?
Yes, I can. Because you weren't alone in that room on that night. They might not have been my family by blood, but I cared about them, dammit. I cared about them as much as I care about my folks back in Orthos. So you'd rather live out your life by yourself than try to move on and find other people to care about?!
So you'd rather risk killing more people who did nothing to deserve it than ensure that no one else will be in danger?!
No one else is in danger! We know that it can happen now and we can stop it. Look, why won't you just...just...dammit, Adjutor. Take off the damn armor. Talk to her. If you can't fix this, you can at least not be alone. That much she's offering us freely.
After a long pause, the teen dismisses the Armor, letting it melt back into the Armogarians as he takes a moment to try to regain his composure before giving up on it with a sigh.
"Thank you for your offer, though. If you wish, we could move back to the bar."
Then the wall that held the door promptly stopped existing. Looking up, the sight that greets Adjutor snaps him out of the sorrow and replaces it with horror as a familiar voice echoes out.
...the hell?
Then the booze flooded forth, an impossible torrent of alcohol without end. There wasn't enough time to call up a Shield, not enough time to burn it with Fire, not enough time to summon Rahab to freeze it, not enough time to even react before-
The booze crashed down on the two, soaking them, the bed, and their clothes in the curious liquid. It seemed like alcohol but...
...Oh wow...
He hadn't even drunk anything, yet Adjutor was already feeling a more than a little tipsy just from the fumes. The world seemed to slow to a crawl around him as a strange yet wonderful warmth flooded through him. He looked around for a moment, mystified by how different the room seems now, before his eyes settle on the fae, the previous expression of sorrow replaced by curiosity.
"Ah...ah...Abby?" he barely manages to get out, voice slurring uncontrollably as he struggles to piece together something approaching coherent speech.
...We just got surprised-flooded...with booze...
...by Lorenzo? Who is somehow...a ghost?
...why do you...sound...drunk?
No clue...All I know is that this is some good stuff! ...Hell, feels like this stuff is soaking into my very soul~!
This possibility gets a laugh from the teen, and further contemplation only serves to amuse him further leaving Adjutor gasping for breath as he flops back against the bed, staring at the ceiling above him. The sight bores him, so he focuses his attention on much more appealing sight of the sweater-less fae...
You sure you didn't actually drink anything?
Nope! Probably! No clue! Feels like I drank the bar dry! HAH!
"Velvet Room, eh?" Michael muses to himself as he makes his way inside, "Sounds like an interesting place, or at the very least a unique one."
Upon entering, the first thing that catches the immortal's eye is the fully stocked bar. The second is that there are two people, both of whom look fairly strong, working their way through some punch. Third is that two more people are having sex on that same bar. Fourth is the three-way going on on a bed that looks like someone pulled it straight out of either a courtesan's chambers or a brothel.
Booze, people who look like they'd be fun to fight, and sex, Michael counts off in his head, Now all we need is decent food, and this place will be perfect.
Unfortunately, nobody seems to be staffing the bar. Fortunately, they seem to have left a mixing book behind.
Might as well get something to drink, and drinking alone while surrounded by all these people would just be ridiculous, so...
With this in mind, Michael takes a seat at the bar, snatching up a nearby bottle of liquor and pouring himself a glass before downing it, feeling the liquid burn on its way down as he surveys the room.