tampered | Log; open

For Robin's part, he looked like he belonged in nearly anything, not least among these a pair of expensive suspenders and oiled hair. He also had lived through the twenties and certainly felt like he belonged in a crowd, as well as at a bar, so it was all around a very workable night for the puck, who was feeling very much himself. Which meant finding his way to the bar where Tony was now working at the height of the night, already with plenty drink in him but room for much more.

At the moment his mark was the tip jar, which he had recently seen some hefty, larger bits of cash dropped into recently; easier to make stealing them worthwhile. He waited until Tony looked swamped and distracted by his watch before sidling onto a seat near the jar and reaching two scissoring fingers into the slit on the top, resting his chin casually against the back of his other wrist, propped up on the bartop.

Tony collected another set of coins from the bar top along with an empty glass and juggled the two as he moved over to the cash box. The extra change he closed between his teeth, as he'd run out of hands for the moment and when he turned to drop off the coin into the tip jar he almost swallowed it instead.

"Robin!"

Don't go choking, Tony. Imagine how awkward it would be if Robin Goodfellow had to give you CPR. Robin didn't even have the shame or decency to look startled, or guilty, for being caught in the act. He didn't even remove his fingers from the jar and, instead, turned his head slowly to look at the other man with a small but wicked, pointed little smile and half-lidded eyes. He was, in fact, particularly drunk. But still more than sober enough to function, clearly.

"Look, he knows his shapes. I am so proud."

Edited 2009-09-11 06:28 (UTC)

Tony's eyebrows went up and he put the glasses in his hands down so he could smack the puck's hands away from the cash.

"That's for charity," he scolded, the words muffled around the coin between his lips. "And no, you don't count."

Robin cradled the smacked hand against his chest for a few seconds, shooting Tony a look that had the very honest heat of offense in it, before settling back down like a stroked cat, fingers moving to re-settle his shirt collar around his shoulders.

"I am nobody's charity case anyway. I have pride and standards and such, as well as a decent life and, you know, good strong social connections and other necessary things which one needs. But if the money in the jar is for charity, who is that for?"

One eye caught the coin barely caught between Tony's teeth with a hint of impish mischief before he darted from his seat to press his own very inebriated lips against Tony's, nipping away the colored coin. He reased that he wouldn't get in too horribly much trouble-- he was being good for a puck and what Ishiah couldn't see couldn't hurt Robin.

Edited 2009-09-11 06:45 (UTC)

Tony's squeak of surprise was loud enough to be heard over the music and he pulled back with a hand covering his mouth way too late.

"You give that back," he demanded, cheeks red with embarrassment, mostly because of the reaction he'd had, not because of the public impromptu kissing. He hadn't been expecting that, although knowing the puck as long as he had now he really should have known better, and he could taste the alcohol from Robin's lips on his own.

"I thought you weren't allowed to do that anymore. On pain of fiery death or something?"

Tony's surprise was enough to bring a bark of a laugh out of the corner of Robin's mouth, his own teeth still clenched around the coin. His voice came a little slurred, from the alcohol and from the way he kept his jaw taught around the ill-got gains. He did plan to give it back to Tony, as teasing was a reward of its own, and just as fun, but Tony wouldn't be so teasable if Robin let on. Why ruin that fun prematurely.

"Why should I? Finders keepers. I stole it fair and square, like that kiss."

He leaned forward on the bartop, not caring if any other customers might roll up.

"And I am not allowed to do that...I think. But he is a giant cock, not a giant psychic, and what he does not know he does not know, am I right or am I right?"

"You're drunk is what you are," Tony pointed out. "And I'm stealing that back."

He just had to figure out the best way to do so. Obviously prying it from between Robin's teeth wasn't the best course of action. He talked while he considered other options.

"I thought you liked giant cocks."

"How can you tell?" Robin asked the question perhaps to be ironic, making sure to lean forward enough that Tony could definitely smell all of the maltose on his breath-- and probably out of his pores at this rate. He chomped on the coin slightly once and then tucked a single curl that escaped behind his ear for the moment, folding his arms over the bar and simpering with all of his might.

"I do. I like them in my mouth and up my ass and between my thighs and in my armpit and an amazing variety of other places but I do not like them getting on my complete lack of a conscience. And may I just stress how completely in the lacking department my non-existent conscience is?"

The fumes were enough to make the eyes water, really. Tony leaned back slightly.

"Your conscience might be non-existent, but mine isn't." Tony didn't know a whole lot about Robin's new beau, but he did gather that Ishiah wasn't the kind of person who didn't mind his boyfriend kissing someone else even as a joke. He was a little worried that the fiery death would extend to him too.

"And anyway, that wasn't a very good kiss."

"Yours?" Robin blinked glazed, inebriated eyes which were suddenly owlish, halfway startled. He took the coin out of his mouth and tucked it safely behind the same ear he toyed with a moment ago.

"Do not feel all nervous and guilty on Ishiah's account. Everything pisses him off. He wakes up in the morning pissed off and it is all downhill from there, believe you me."

Relaxing, he considered Tony, raking him up and down and then staring over his shoulder at the lines of glass bottles on the wall.

"And anyway, it was not a kiss. It was hazing. An expression of affectionate teasing. Now get me a drink, do your job."

"Strangely enough, hearing that he's always pissed off isn't making me less nervous," Tony said dryly as he moved to flip the empty glasses into the pile for cleaning with practiced ease.

The clean glass for Robin he called to his hand without really thinking about it.

"What do you want?"

"Relax. You have nothing to fear from his wrath, no matter how I may decide to spoil you. He would blame me and me alone and be happy in having the excuse to bust my balls."

The puck made a show of rolling his eyes, before shimmying in his seat to get settled in in actuality, and sliding the coin to set it back down on the table and slide it to Tony. Funtime was over anyway, and the magic tricks-- real magic tricks --were worth sticking around to watch.

"That is yours. Now. As far as drink goes, it is a party. Why not go for cocktails. Can you do a Hop, Skip and Go Naked? I had one of those when I was in Quebec. But then, you are from the other side of that country, aren't you? I can never remember."

"It's mine and you'll give me another. And they do those outside of Quebec too."

The coin was tucked away in Tony's pocket in a movement that was made clumsy by unfamiliarity with the clothes he was wearing. Apparently the jacket had no pockets but his pants did.

But there wasn't anything clumsy about the simple calling of objects for the drink. Tony didn't have to recite the spell anymore either. Come To Me was so ingrained that he hardly had to think of it. He just reached and things were there.

Beer, lemonaid, vodka, limeaid, soda...he paused a second and looked up.

"Crushed ice?"

"Fuck the ice. It is only there to take up room in your cup and your stomach, neither of which are something which I want or need when I am drinking."

The admonishing was honest but not snappish, good-natured and slow, as drunk as Robin was already. He shrugged his shoulders and rubbed his hands together, chilly in the Blue Light's A/C for hours and with all of the alcohol in his system, bringing his body heat to the surface to escape. Robin dug in his own back pocket to pull out a matching colored coin and, reaching forward with a hint of uncharacteristic clumsiness, tucked it into Tony's pocket, before reaching forward with both hands to adjust his suitcoat and shirt collar.

Robin's eyes trailed to the ingredients being summoned.

"Am I just blasted out of my mind or are you getting better at that lately?"

A splash more vodka instead, then. Tony stirred the drink and set it on a napkin for Robin to take. And it was a good thing he wasn't still holding the cocktail while usually nimble fingers made their way into his pocket and then tugged at his clothing, or he would have made a mess.

As it was, he tried to squirm away and hold still at the same time and really failed spectacularly at both actions.

"Probably both. But yeah, Come To Me is pretty easy now."

"That is good. So long as it won't consume your sanity or something horrible like that, I can imagine that magic is an incredibly useful skill to have for many reasons. Lucky you."

He heaved a sigh before taking the drink and, uncharacteristically, nursing it instead of drinking it like it might be revoked, and he leaned against the bar with both elbows, slouching and propping his head up with his free hand. Seeing nothing of interest happening at the moment, he turned a lazy stare on Tony as the time ticked slowly down to his break.

"You owe me that dance by the way. And I owe you a talk, eventually. Perhaps."

Edited 2009-09-11 08:32 (UTC)

Tony served two more customers in the time it took Robin to bring his gaze back to him, more money clinking into the cashbox, more bottles springing to his fingertips as he called them. He'd also had a second drink waiting for Robin and was surprised to see him still nursing the first.

"Sanity isn't what my magic consumes," he said with a rueful grin as he tucked a thumb under the strap of his suspender and gave it a quick snap. He'd gained back an awful lot of the weight he'd dropped since that whole thing with Eden, but that didn't mean his pants fit right yet. At least he wasn't eating everything in sight anymore.

"A talk about what?"

The suspenders snap got another eyeroll out of the puck, but this one was more cagey and distant, as was the voice that followed. He finished a good half of the first drink before he spoke.

"I would consider you the perfect companion, if only you weren't loaded with baggage and also possessing of a very poor shelf-life."

He lifted the drink to his lips again, but stopped, shrugged, and set it down by the other one, sliding them together until they clicked and then staring, eyes not meeting Tony's while he spoke.

"Caliban has seen fit to grace us with the presence of the prodigal son once more. For some reason that boy always manages to make me consider things. Such as my behaviors and my friendships. I am a terrible friend. Especially when I am a fucking friend. I dropped you like a hot potato and normally that is par for the course with me, but I owe you explanations and apologies."

"Baggage?" Tony said with suspicion and the tiniest thread of fear that Robin had found out something he shouldn't have.

"I don't think I know Caliban," he said with a shrug. "It's alright.
I was just worried that I did something...you know...offensive or stupid or whatever to mess things up with you and I couldn't figure out what."

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