Oh the thinks you can think (Mylie only!)

[Deleted]

((Bonus points if you can guess what musical I stole the title from ))

Grantaire had been progressively getting himself drunker and drunker throughout the evening, and right now he was in his happy drunk place. A few more bottles no doubt he'd fall into a much more somber mood, and give him more still and he would indeed end up in a drunken slumber. However he preferred to skip the somber tearful mood, he always ended up crying on the nearest shoulder and he hated it. He frowned however as he noticed his bottle was empty shrugging as he stood to his feet to buy a refill.

Not that he was walking anywhere near steadily. It had been the night of another meeting and... well he’d been yelled down as usual from his ideals. To his knowledge everyone had left, or retired, he wasn’t sure which. He had lost track as to which it might be ever since he’d been getting himself drunk to just keep quiet. Maybe that was better. He could observe then quietly, and try and offer opinions – when he was able to anyway. He leant heavily on the bar trying to appear somewhat sober to the poor unfortunate who would be serving him. The slam as coins hit the polished surface of the counter as he almost fell again looking at her blearily.

“You’re certainly shweet, sho be a darling and get me another bottle?” he asked his words slurred, and near on unintelligible. “I’d call toasht if anyone wash around,” he added on his faculties well and truly dulled by the alcohol right now. Even his vision was heavily blurry, and he was chasing the peace of drunken slumber more than anything right now. “However theresh hardly anyone left sho...” he shrugged slightly “jusht get me the bottle regardless?” he couldn’t help his attempt at a roguish grin. However it more than likely turned into more of a failed attempt.

He rubbed his brow tiredly just wanting to get the bottle and drink himself to sleep. It was peaceful then. He was also preparing to stumble off to find somewhere to sleep, some door way out of the way where he could sleep, out of everyone’s way and then the day would go on.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

((I must admit, I didn't know so I cheated with google Seussical xD))

It had been a busy night for Mylène, but slowly things started slowing down, also dependable on the advanced hour they had reached by now. Slowly even Paris seemed to prepare for the night, but like it always would be, the taverns and cafés were those deserted last. She had been on her feet most of the night, not only serving behind the counter, but also running to and fro,serving directly to the tables, getting new supplies and bottles from the backroom or the cellar, and so she was glad for a little respite where she just could lean against the counter and keep a watchful eye on the room and the remaining customers. One of them, and how could it be any different, was of course Grantaire, the last of the ABC friends. Mylène had listened to their meeting always with one ear in their direction, even if she had had to serve other customers as well, and had dropped by once or twice to give a comment, even though she knew her opinion wasn’t often truly heard. She knew the life in the dumps of Paris probably better than any of them, and had offered her help more than once, but so far she had not been directly appointed with a task, though she would have loved that. Maybe another quiet word with either Courf or Enjolras would do the trick?

There seemed to be one other slightly dissatisfied with the evening, namely Grantaire, and it had led to him drinking even more than usual. Drinking alone was something Mylène was seriously frowning on, even though she herself was not averse to a bottle or two in good company. But her personal taste often enough collided with the need of making enough money, and often enough her wages depended on the tips she was getting, so she could save enough when times got even tougher. She had lived hand to mouth long enough to value even the smallest amount of savings. So now, when Grantaire stood up and staggered towards her, demanding more to drink, she felt seriously torn for a moment.

Looking over her shoulder to check the landlord was currently out of the room, she then leant over the counter, careful not to inhale too much of his brandy-staled breath. “Considering you’re probably seeing double right now, I am surprised to find you’re complimenting me on being sweet and not my twin right next to me”, she quipped, but made no attempt to reach behind herself handing him another bottle. “Seriously, Brandyman, I do think you’d rather keep your money for tomorrow, when you surely will return. No more bottles for you tonight.” She had started out nicely, amiably even, but if Mylène had learned one thing in her life then it was to stand her ground, however much she coated her steel intent with jokes and teasing.

[Deleted]

Grantaire looked at Mylene “no, one more, pleashe,” he stated his drunken slur there. “One more jusht to shee the night through, and then I’ll go, as I don’t think you’ll let me ushe my corner ash a bed will you?” he shrugged a bit not even expecting an answer to that. Until he could remember where he was meant to be sleeping he slept anywhere, and he wasn’t fussy just where that anywhere was. He ran a hand through his already overly mussed hair giving a belch. “Oopsh shcushe me,” he added on. Do not let it be said that he forgot his manners.

“I jusht need one more bottle and I’ll be quiet ash a baby who’sh shound ashleep in hish little crib,” he added on looking at Mylene pleadingly. He wanted one last drink to soundly knock him out so he didn’t have to think any more. Just go to sleep, out of anyone elses way all quiet and tucked up and no problem at all. Was that too much to ask for? Besides if he could get that drunk he might forget the scornful words that he’d gained today, the usual he knew but it didn’t make that any nicer.

He stumbled almost falling against the counter again his legs certainly not favouring him currently. He rubbed his head “one more for the night sweetie and even a kissh goodbye?” he offered trying to just get the last bottle through any means necessary other then violence. He most certainly wasn’t a violent man, even when drunk. But other ways, certainly. He couldn’t help but to rub his brow wanting to just curl up and sleep already but he didn’t want to be left alone with those oh so tormenting thoughts. Already they were there just muted due to the amount of alcohol he’d imbibed.

He mumbled some nonsense to himself as he looked at Mylene again leaving his coin on the counter. “Itsh either that or I don’t move until I get me bottle,” he added on looking at her stubbornly. Wasn’t often he showed such stubbornness but it showed on occasion. When he really wanted something like now.

[MYLÈNE LACOQUINE]

Over her two years in working here, Mylène had developed quite a good sense for estimating the drunken state of people, and the better she knew the single persons, the better she could also say how much they would be able to stand, before they either threw up or dozed off. Grantaire could stomach a great deal, one of the reasons she sometimes called him Brandyman, since it sometimes seemed he could drink that type of liquor like water, but even he had a Point of No Return so to say. And that point was very near, by the way he held himself now or talked to her. She hardly could understand his slurred pleadings, even though she guessed the content very well. One more. One more was probably what it needed for him to drop, and apparently that seemed to be what he wanted. Graintaire was never the most bouncy and lighthearted of men, but she had witnessed before that he often used his bottles to forget something bad that had happened to him.

“No, not one more, Grantaire, I won’ ‘ave to call the landlord again te scrape ye off the table and toss ye out in’ the streets”, she insisted, firmer this time, even though her tone was still amiable. “Nu’s the time when ye still can walk, so nu’s when ye shed go.” Not for the first time she wondered what on earth he needed to forget so dearly. Of course she had noticed that with his biting irony and often gruff demeanour, added on by his drinking habits, Graintaire didn’t exactly have the best position within the ABC friends. They hardly listened to a word he said, from what she occasionally could tell, though of course their discussions here had become far and few between with the new headquarter.

She laughed when he asked for a kiss goodbye, not being the skittish girl to be easily offended by such a request. “Pardon, such service’s not included t’night. Though wha’ ‘bout kiss g’night instead’f ‘nother bottle?” she offered with a wink. Not that she’d really prefer a kiss from a drunk Grantaire, but right now she just wanted to get him off the idea of this last bottle.Drinking your problems away never worked, she had seen too many of these kinds of men and women down in the Cour des Miracles, and she didn’t want Grantaire to become one of them. It simply wasn’t worth it, whatever ailed him.

Though he really seemed to be cursed with a strong streak of stubbornness tonight, she observed with an inward sigh. This discussion was by no means through. “When the landlord or –lady cumes back, you’ll ‘ave ter move anyway”, she shrugged. “’E’s not as patient as I.” Though, given half a chance, the man would just take the money, give him the bottle and then toss him out. He didn’t care much for the troubles of the boys as long as they still paid their drinks. But each of them had grown on Mylène in their own good time, and she didn’t like to see them troubled.
“Wha’ ‘appened anyway?” she asked impulsively, walking around the counter to lean against it next to him. “You’re not ‘xactly a sunshine on yer bes’of days, but yer lookin’ ‘xtremely down today.”