At the change in lighting, the ladies all made sounds of appreciation, each taking the opportunity to shift slightly closer to the young men. Enzo flashed Tiberius a wide grin, though it was hard to catch his eye with Junia expertly dominating his friend's field of vision. Instead, he turned his attention back to the table at large, sipping from his glass with one hand while the other slowly started to dance feather-like fingers over the fabric of Camilla's dress at the back of her shoulder.
"Oh, I know the most delightful game of questions. Camilla said. Her hand moved suddenly to touch lightly at Enzo's chest for just a moment, dropping away far too soon for his liking.
"Now, this particular game of questions is called Paranoia. I'll whisper a question to you, Enzo, so that only you hear. The answer must be someone at this table. You answer out loud. If anyone wants to know what the question was, they must take a drink. Then, you can either share or keep it secret and take a drink yourself. What do you say?" Camilla looked around the table and her companions each nodded eagerly.
"Alright." he said, sitting up a bit straighter as he set his glass down. Camilla leaned toward him, holding a hand up to hide her mouth from the others. He leaned toward her as well. As she whispered into his ear, Enzo turned his face just a little toward her, smiling. She lingered after finishing her question and he savored the feel of her breath on his skin.
When she did pull away, Enzo bit his lips between his teeth as he leaned back in his chair, making a show of looking around the table pensively. "Tiberius." he said, then placed his hand at his drink, ready to take it up and down it, should he be pressed to reveal anything.
"Your turn to ask something." Junia said, leaning her ear toward Enzo.
Enzo, removing his arm from behind Camilla for a moment, cupped a hand to his mouth and leaned close to Junia's ear. He barely finished the question before she declared "Ophelia, easily." and then erupted into a fit of giggling. While she recovered, Enzo turned to Ophelia, his expression impressed, and nodded. He then settled back into his chair, arm encircling Camilla once again. Fingers... less feather-like in their dance than before.
The alcohol must have started to hit. Tiberius was growing less and less tolerant of needling as the evening drew on. He shot Malachai a pointed glare and, trying to copy Enzo’s ease of motion, wrapped his arm around Junia’s narrow shoulders. She was such a slight, bony thing – as tense as he was at first touch, then bolstering her courage with a glance at Camilla. The fine muscles in her neck moved as she swallowed and then Junia was leaning into him, warm and heavy against the length of his body, shoulder to knee. Her smile and blush were quite pretty, if a little fixed. The game afoot here was certainly curious.
As tempting as it was to think of Camilla as some sort of evil mastermind, perhaps she simply had the most to gain. Enzo would likely never lead House Pavus but his children might in another fifty years. In the mean time, a comfortable life. Poor girl probably didn’t know he’d been betrothed since boyhood.
“That’s just talking, Valentius. What are the rules?” One of the ladies butted in at that very moment, removing the chance to clarify. Tiberius listened with a vague sense of dread, lips thinning into a bloodless line as Camilla asked her question. There were any number of innocuous things she might have asked that would have made Enzo answer with his name.
There were a few reputation destroyers in there too. Only she would know – for now, anyway – so long as he didn’t make a scene. The moments ticked by, until it was the next player's turn.
“Excuse me. I think we’re going to need a lot more alcohol for this one. Let me take care of that.” As Junia leaned toward Enzo to receive her question, Tiberius slipped free and made vague apologetic murmurs as he squeezed around Delia and Mal. He took his glass with him, downing the drink and setting it on the rail before heading downstairs.
He did, in fact, order a few bottles of wine sent up for the table – and more whiskey for himself. Oh, he was most definitely sulking. As he was considering the door or the stairs, Delia’s familiar over-familiar hand landed on his forearm, warm through the sleeve of his stolen jacket.
“Want to get out of here?”
“I think I do, actually. Where do you have in mind?”
With the drop in lighting Mal watched from the corner of his eye as Ophelia slid her chair closer. His one-sided grin tugged higher as she did so. While questions were a fun icebreaker, his were more likely to cause tears and a ruined atmosphere than the jovial time they were hoping to embark on. It was difficult to lower one's guard when as a bastard and would-be intelligence agent, he had to be on the defensive and was expected to find the enemies secrets. By any means. That way of questioning didn’t go over well in polite, everyday society.
He was grateful Camilla took charge, explaining the rules and quietly observing Enzo’s game while they expertly demonstrated. He’d sneak a glance over to Tiberius, briefly curious as to what exactly Camilla had asked, but the man was standing, muttering and then disappearing back down the stairs to the bar. Well. That didn’t bode well.
Mal soon found Junia’s answer a far more stimulating distraction though. Especially with how Ophelia shifted in her chair as Enzo nodded, impressed with whatever it was. Ugh, the unknown all too easily irritated the young man. Scoffing, Mal reached for his glass, staring over the woman at his side with a bob of his brows. I’m going to ask, because that reaction deserves some explanation. Pray tell, what juicy tit-bit did you uncover? Turning his attention back to Enzo, Mal raised a brow, his question two-fold as his chin gestured towards the stairs then to his occupied side.
To follow, or leave him be? And was the veiled dove worth inviting into his lap or not?
While Junia wiggled her fingers over her glass, playing up the anticipation of if she'd drink or reveal the question, Enzo's eyes followed Tiberius as he stood and departed. The call for more drink was well enough in good fun, but Enzo knew his friend better than that. He caught Mal's gaze as well, the double meaning of his question understood. He returned it with an arch of his brows, mouth pulled to one side, uncertain. Under the table, Camilla's hand braved his knee. That was difficult to abandon.
Junia, unable to contain her mirth any longer, withdrew her hand from her glass. "The gentleman asked who among us ladies was the most flexible!" she exclaimed, then collapsed into giggles. She'd hardly noticed her target had fled them.
At his side, Camilla too fell to laughing, using it as an excuse to lean closer still. One of her hands moved to cover the pale flesh between her bosom and her neck, but the other was bolder. Enzo shifted, leaning forward and raising his glass toward the lady, then giving Mal a wink. His own left hand, inspired to boldness as well, explored.
Junia noted that both of the next players had abandoned the game. Enzo hadn't noticed Delia's departure, but he saw now that it was true. Odd. Then, more wine arrived at the table, but not in Tiberius' hands. Now he was starting to suspect that Tiberius had truly fled. Had he taken things too far? Surely he didn't think Enzo had insulted him. Or...
Across the table, Junia was whispering to Ophelia, who quickly answered "Camilla." aloud. Not wanting to seem inattentive, Enzo turned his gaze to the blonde woman in his embrace. She was squinting her eyes at Ophelia, who grinned back, then took a deep drink from her glass.
"Oh, now I wish I could know..." he said, smiling at her.
"Never." Ophelia declared, then turned to whisper into Mal's ear, leaning heavily against him.
"My dear friend is sulking." Camilla whispered to Enzo, leaning so closer her nose almost brushed his ear.
Enzo glanced sideways at Junia. "Now that won't do." he whispered back.
"She's lovely, is she not?" Camilla's hand distracted him. He cleared his throat and nodded. Hearing them, Junia turned and smiled at Enzo. "We've all known each other since we were children. We share everything." Enzo swallowed.
"Top you off, Mal?" Enzo said, the slightest waver in his voice. Abruptly, he leaned forward, his arm releasing Camilla. He poured for them all, using the work of it to disguise his steadying breaths.
While the girls and Enzo bantered back and forth, Malachai felt the usual strange detachment as he observed the scene. Neither man had missed their friend’s sudden departure, a puzzle Mal was uncertain of piecing together in the current moment. The unspoken message between the men, resulting in a rising tension in his shoulder, a current running beneath the surface of his mirthful facade.
Junia’s giggled outburst broke the spell, a wave of laughter rolling out of Mal, Oh that’s precious. That may require testing. Noting how only one of Tibs ladies remained, Mal let it pass without a word, instead chuckling at the wink tossed his way. A freehand reached to catch the tail of Ophelia’s veil, loosely catching it between two fingers to tug it gently, playfully. His brow rose, leaning in to conspire, How flexible are we talking? voice lowered for her ear alone. Yet Junia, the delightful extra wheel, drew attention to the same conclusion that Delia had likely followed, perhaps detaining dear Tibby? Mal deemed it possible, especially after the drinks arrived and no Umbra or lady returned.
Ladies was perhaps also pushing the sentiment behind the word. It was now Camilla’s turn to be put under the spotlight and Mal found Ophelia’s defiant non-answer amusing, snicker falling wickedly as an arm found its way around her. Camilla is the loudest… and I could show you... Humming approvingly, Mal almost didn’t catch Enzo’s unfolding dilemma until the slight tremor crawled along his nerves as unusual.
Mm? Um, yes. Pass us over two, visibly torn, but relenting to shift forwards. Not everything, surely, fell as a suspicious mutter, eyes narrowing slightly before reaching for a glass. An ick in the back of his mind caused a shudder to run through him.
He was not a generous person, whispering If he’s longer than ten minutes, you might be in trouble, friend, or have hit the jackpot… which is it?.
Delia was, perhaps, not as talkative as her three friends. Yet one could never accuse her of being shy. The where she had in mind proved to be a flophouse, not too far from the Rose and Pony. Strange how quickly the mask of safety and wealth fell from the face of Minrathous. He’d lived nearly his entire life in this city and yet he’d never stood on this particular street corner.
Certainly, he had never entered this particular establishment. Delia’s hot, sweaty hand tugged him over the threshold. An old woman sat on a bench inside, a mangy looking monkey wrapped around her shoulder. She croaked an alarm.
“What is this, girl? You bringing trouble to my door?”
“No, Momma Macrinia. You’ll be good. Won't you, Tiberius?”
He stifled a slightly panicked laugh – Momma Macrinia definitely had a crossbow under her tattered cloak. The monkey shrieked, high and shrill, fisting handfuls of iron gray hair. What would Enzo say to something like that?
“Of course. But only as good as you’d like me to be.” Ugh, that sounded atrocious. Still, something about his voice seemed to convince the old woman. Momma Macrinia sucked on her teeth and then waved them upstairs. He was glad to go.
“What was all that about?”
“Never mind that.” Delia corralled him into a barely furnished room, fine fingered hands skimming under his stolen jacket, expertly unbuckling his belt. She pushed him by the small of the back, stepping on the back of one shoe so he tripped onto the bed. Tiberius rolled, trousers in a tangle, knocking his head and shoulder into the wall. He blinked stupidly as the young woman availed herself of a pair of push daggers from beneath her skirts. Short, stubby things. Hard to kill with, maybe – but deterrent enough for most situations. He raised his hand, calling for his magic. It was slow to answer, wisps of shadow licking around Delia’s limbs.
“You better cut that out. Now.” She met his eyes and smiled, more animated now than at any point earlier in the night. “Because if you get it wrong, I’ll cut every tendon in your hands – you’ll never cast again.”
“Oh.” He let go of the spell, pressing against the wall with his hands pressed under his arms, as if hiding them would spare him. “What– What do you want, then?”
To Mal, Enzo gave a confused shrug as he handed over the two drinks. Inexperienced, he was not, but Enzo was still a very young man. And this evening was progressing quite differently than he'd expected. Not badly, but so very different. When the shadows that had afforded them their privacy slowly dispersed, Enzo looked around. Through the railing overlooking the lower floor, he caught sight of the back of Tiberius' head as he was led out into the night by Delia.
Enzo straightened, taking his own drink in hand and downing it in one go, eyes still on the doors downstairs. What to do? Then Camilla was on her feet as well, lips to his ear as she whispered. With each word, a bit of red tinted his neck, his ears. A smile spilled across his face. At his other side, Junia had entangled her hand into his as she also stood. Enzo turned, twisting his torso slightly to look at her. she too leaned forward and whispered. Enzo chuckled. The two ladies released him, walking around their chairs until they came together, locked arms, and began to walk toward the stairs. Enzo, biting his lower lip, watched them for a moment before turning back to Mal.
Leaning down, Enzo clapped his friend on the shoulder, squeezing there slightly as he leaned in. "Jackpot." he said, giving a wink, and then followed after the ladies.
He caught up to them at the bottom of the stairs. They parted to allow him to move between them, an arm around each waist. As they neared the doors, Enzo blew through his lips, as if extinguishing a candle, and sent a telekinetic burst to push the doors open. The girls giggled, squeezing closer to him as they moved into the night air, and steered him to the side.
They led him along an unfamiliar street, murmuring, giggling, groping all the while. Each word that passed from their lips seemed sweeter than the last until Enzo felt as if he wanted nothing in the world more than to hear them speak. Anything. It didn't matter.
One of them was cold. He quickly shrugged off his jacket to wrap it around her. My, wasn't that a fine waistcoat. He was sure it would look lovely on her figure. Oh, the mud! Enzo stepped form his boots and helped first one, then the other lady cross the muddy alley. Their dainty legs looked so small in his boots. Would he kiss Camilla? Here? It was dark, no one would see. She tasted of the strange liquor they'd been drinking. Junia too. They were beautiful. They were divine. They were...
Gone.
The first shock to hit him was the chill. Looking down, Enzo found that he wore nothing but his small clothes. Turning about, Enzo then saw that he had absolutely no idea where he was. Everything around him was dark, dingy, and foreign. He opened his mouth to call out for...
Who had he been with? He remembered... the boat, yes. He was back home after finishing his mandated service. But... This was not good. No, this was very, very bad. His head swiveled, looking for anywhere he might go. Just at the corner, where the alley opened onto a narrow street, a lantern flickered over a door. Through the dirty glass, Enzo could see more light inside. He rushed over, trying not to think of what might be in the puddles he splashed through.
"Please help me!" he shouted as he barreled through the door, dry throat making the words come out harsh as well as frantic.
But his words were drowned out by two shrieks. One came from some creature that leapt into the air, catching onto the cobwebbed chandelier overhead and causing dust to rain down on Enzo. The other from a haggard old woman who'd been so startled by the half-naked man and the creature's reaction that she almost fell from the bench she'd been sitting on. In the process, the crossbow she'd been concealing under her cloak discharged with a loud twang, sending it's bolt across the small entryway and deep into the frame of the door just to the right of Enzo's head.
At these greetings, Enzo also shrieked, jumping to his left, then darting across the small space as the creature - he could now see it was a monkey, as it had dropped down onto him- yanked at his hair and continued to scream. He flailed his arms, trying to rid himself of the beast and he moved about, not seeing where he was going.
"I'll flay you, I will!" the old woman bellowed as she stood, reaching out. Enzo could not, in his confusion, discern if she meant him or the monkey.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" he repeated as he flailed. He managed to get a grip on one of the monkey's legs. He pulled with all his might, twisting his torso to give him more leverage until the monkey came free... with a chunk of Enzo's hair in his grip. As Enzo threw the beast, he stumbled over the bench, losing his balance and toppling over the woman. She crashed to the ground, Enzo rolled over her, His right elbow colliding with the stairs sending a jolt of pain from elbow to finger tips. Numbness followed. The monkey, again hanging from the chandelier, made to pounce on him again. Enzo gripped one of the bars of the stair railing and hauled himself to his feet, rushing up the stair to escape.
"I'm sorry! Please! I mean no harm!" he continued to shout as he fled upward.
Out of the three of them, Mal had always been the most suspicious of others' intentions. Typically bastards were played and sacrificed for whatever advantage or the simple enjoyment of humiliating them, it resulted in a thick shell. He was mellowed, however, distracted by Ophelia’s foot sliding up and down his calf and giving Enzo a single exaggerated nod, Mal leaned back into his chair to pass her the second glass.
Following Enzo, the liquid soon disappeared, necking the glass completely. His eyes would sweep to Ophelia, watching as she too, joined them in downing the drinks. Good. His gut feeling still hadn’t abated, but as she’d matched him for each drink, a naive confidence in his own sobriety negated the young man’s caution. They each became engaged with their respective audience, Mal’s free hand finding the woman’s side and drawing her closer. Enzo soon clapped him on the shoulder leaning in and declaring the outcome. His smirk spread sideways, Mal’s head throwing back a laugh before offering him a lazy wave.
He offered Ophelia a sigh, tilting his head while she now began trailing a finger over his waistcoat. Somewhere quieter, yes? With space, his brows wiggling, for your demonstration. Her little giggle was all Mal needed, quickly rising to stand and see themselves out. Their path meandered, too long and even with the haze slowly falling over his senses, Mal maintained a small idea of his whereabouts, their doubling back and forth, he’d given her the benefit of the doubt until as he turned into the alley at her urging.
The hesitancy from earlier came back to churn at his stomach, sobering him enough before the ill-described lady tried to sock him with a club she’d produced from somewhere. Clever. Lure the victim to a prepared place. He caught her ill timed swing, surprised he was still able to stand given her previous hex. That’s what it was, but fortunately he’d resisted her poorly executed attempt. Mal could enjoy the moment, his stomach rebelling violently that his grip around the bat cemented, violently retching it free of her grasp. That sent her bolting off to Maker-knew-where and, quite honestly, fuck her, the lying little bitch.
Using a wall to steady him, Mal heaved and spat as the drinks from earlier came back to haunt him. That blue crap had to be some sort of slow acting draft that had his head so fogged. After wiping his mouth with the back of a sleeve, eyes scoured the alley and soon hearing shouts and cries through an open door further ahead. Mal slipped but regained his footing enough not to eat shit… or rather his own vomit spreading across the dirt and hurried on.
He made the door just as a naked Enzo streaked his way back across it making his way up the stairs. Jackpot. Jackpot, he said. Mal grunted, bracing against the door as another wave of nausea rolled through him, hiding his head with a groan as the monkey shrieked. Oh shut up! haphazardly gesturing to cast sleep on the old woman and creature screaming.
“I don’t have much on me.” Tiberius slowly reached for his trouser pockets, turning out a few mid and low value coins and piling them on the sheets. It would have been very foolish to bring more for a simple night out, wouldn’t it? Everything important was still wadded up in his uniform jacket, hanging in Enzo’s closet right now. “I could get more for you. Tomorrow m–maybe?”
Delia’s face was stiff and unamused even as she scooped up the coins. They both knew he’d never come back. That either way, this whole operation would be done and dusted before the sun came up. Perhaps to start again when the next ship came in from Seheron, just another trial to winnow down the noble brats of Houses both High and Low.
She grabbed him by the hair – stronger than she looked – and ground the side of his face against the bare wall. The push dagger in her other hand hovered indecisively, glint of steel and touch-worn ivory handle in her palm.
“Look, if you kill me–” Tiberius yelped as the blade came around and bit under his hairline, hot-cold flash of wet warmth down to his collar in moments.
“What then, poor little rich boy? I don’t think it’ll matter much to you.”
“Wait– Wait.” There was little left to bargain with, at least to his inebriated mind. Only the fear he’d been nursing since the women joined them earlier in the evening. “I could make you a lady. While you’re still young, even.”
“Explain.” The dagger embedded itself in the wall somewhere over his shoulder and Delia was staring down at him, knee on his stomach briefly before hooking over to straddle him. The dark glitter of her eyes was sharp and mesmerizing, more attentive now than earlier. Tiberius struggled for breath, shifting until his shoulders and neck met a prickly straw pillow.
“My father just died. Grandfather – head of my House – is getting on in years. I admit, he wouldn’t want to see me married to a commoner, but—” He dared to rest his hands on Delia’s hips and she permitted the trespass. It was not as entirely unappealing as he might have feared. “A politically useless marriage beats a dead heir, doesn’t it?”
“Fine, rich boy. But if I come to your great house, what’s to stop them from throwing me and your babe out in the cold?”
“Blood magic. You can tell paternity through blood magic.” Now, there was a thought. One that threatened to leave his mind entirely as Delia bent down to kiss him. She tasted like aniseed. Somewhere, someone seemed to be screaming. That wasn’t particularly alarming, not until it became feet stomping up the stairs, a voice he recognized raised in distress.
Ah. Not coming to save him. That was a touch disappointing. He nuzzled his cut temple against Delia and drew on the mana inherent in blood to fuel a spell faster than she could recover her blades.
“Sit quietly on the bed.” Using blood magic to alter someone’s mind was a crime even in Tevinter. But would anyone care? She wasn't a mage, and she was a thief, perhaps even a killer. Still, Tiberius felt a little sick as he watched her obey.
“Enzo? I'm here.” He raised his voice to carry and sat up, legs over the side and head in his hands.
By the time he reached the top of the stairs, Enzo noticed he was no longer being pursued. He stopped, panting slightly from the adrenaline, to look down over the railing to the lobby. Was that Mal stooped over, retching in the doorway? This... this had to be his doing. Some over the top prank, no doubt. Well, he had to admit, he'd outdone himself. Enzo leaned on the rail, about to shout down to Mal when...
“Enzo? I'm here.”
"Tiberius?"
Enzo turned, looking toward a short corridor with a row of three doors. Surely Tibs wasn't in on this too. But that had most certainly been his voice. Enzo stepped forward, opening the first door in the hall. Inside, a woman with poorly made, false Qunari horns in a red dress was tickling a naked man who was gagged and tied to the bed. They both turned to him with angry expressions at having been interrupted.
"Sorry!" he spat out and quickly closed the door. More hesitant now, he approached the second door and knocked. "Tiberius?" he said, unsure.
Slowly he opened the door, keeping his eyes on the ground at first, then slowly raising them until he saw his friend sitting on the bed, head in hands, and a woman sitting oddly still beside him. Enzo moved into the room, confusion quickly turning to concern when he saw the smear of blood on the other man's temple.
"Hey, what happened?" he asked, rushing toward Tiberius. He dropped to a knee, hands going to either side of Tiberius' face to try and turn it so he could see better. "Are you alright? Who did this?" Enzo's eyes glanced to the young woman, then back at Tiberius. There was certainly something odd going on here. They both were disheveled, his trousers all tangled. Money on the bed... Maybe it was better if he didn't answer.
"I think we should go, yeah?" Enzo shifted to stand, moving his hands to Tiberius' shoulders to gently pull him upward as well. "Did you see there's a monkey downstairs?"
Mal groaned as he forced himself up, stumbling over to the stairs. Each step an ordeal, each wave of nausea threatening to buckle his legs that a few times he had to cling to the bannister to keep him upright. He knew he shouldn’t have fucking tried the blue shit. The tainted beverage coursed through his veins like poison, twisting his stomach into knots.
He stumbled again once reaching the landing, shouldering the corner on the turn and catching glimpses of debauchery through open or cracked doorways, his blurred vision making the scenes all the more surreal. A few onlookers glared at his clumsy progress, momentarily pulling him from the effects of the potion to laugh, but quickly moved on.
He wasn't aware of the monkey’s reappearance until it was too late. The creature's weight slammed into his back, sending him sprawling to the floor. Mal's vision swam as he struggled to fend off the furiously hissing animal, its claws raking at his arms. With a desperate hard jerk, he managed to kick the monkey away, sending it crashing through the last door of Tiberius's room and somersaulting out the nearby window.
Good fuckin' riiiddanse he’d breathe heavily, resting a moment on his back before hauling himself to sit upright, every minute movement a battle against the lingering effects of the drink. Nope. Nope, that’s no good and he flopped back down as if a sack of potatoes, a sorrowful groan following.
M’not payin’... for the fuckin’ monkey either!
He’d wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, noticing how his skin was hot to touch and how everything felt suddenly heavier, blurrier… was he coming down with a fever?
Enzo’s… gonna be banned, for life… when I fiiiii- the rest fell as light knock, the tainted offering finally taking Mal out.
It didn’t seem as though Enzo had fared much better than his own poor self. Where were his clothes? Were the other girls still nearby, still a threat? Tiberius leaned into Enzo’s hand, eyes fluttering closed. He was so tired. This needed to be over.
But it wasn’t yet. Malachai was on the landing, making enough noise to cover an advancing army. Tiberius winced as a small, screeching thing flew through the air and out the window, then opened his eyes. Delia didn’t react at all, though her muscles strained beneath her waxen skin, fighting the command. It seemed it would hold, hopefully until they were well clear of this place. It wouldn’t feel right to murder a woman even after what she’d done to him.
“I’ll be alright.” Did Enzo not recognize the girl on the bed? That was strange, but then, he’d been very focused on the other one. Camille or whatever. Tiberius let himself be guided to his feet and spent a few slow seconds righting his clothes. After a long pause, he offered the jacket to Enzo. It was his, after all.
“What’s wrong with him?” He nodded toward Malachai, wondering what Enzo was banned from. Choosing their drinking companions, surely. “I did see the monkey, yes.”
Poor Mal seemed to be having a strong adverse reaction to something. The drinks? Maybe Delia had an antidote on her – he recoiled from the thought of touching her again and went to prop Mal up on his shoulder instead. Tall, heavy bastard. Warm, too. Did he need a healer? Tiberius wasn’t sure how Malachai’s father or strange mentor would take that if they found out.
The screech and blur of fur pulled Enzo's eyes for just a moment, a smile and laugh almost surfacing. What a story this night would be someday. If only he could remember the start. But Tiberius was handing him a jacket and Enzo quickly shrugged it on. A moment later, having noticed how well it fit, he looked at it more closely.
"Is this... mine?" he muttered. Confused eyes followed as Tiberius moved toward Mal. "I haven't the slightest. I'm definitely drunk but... Tiberius, where are we?" he asked, moving to help lift Mal from the ground. It was an awkward thing, trying to help shoulder the man. He switched to looping an arm around Mal's middle, holding some if his weight from that point and letting his limp arm hand over his shoulder.
It was slow going down the stairs. The lobby was a mess. Dust floated in the air and the old woman... was snoring on the ground. Above, footsteps shuffled on the landing and Enzo glanced up to see the woman with the false horns peeking over the railing. From back in the room, Enzo could just hear the muffled voice of the man he'd seen earlier. "Shut up, you dog!" the woman suddenly barked as she turned back to her work. "I didn't give you perm-" the slam of the door cut off the rest.
The air outside was cool and quiet, though Enzo remained tense, anticipating the reappearance of the monkey. "I thought we were going... to go to the Rose and Pony." he said, grunting as he jostled Mal's dead weight a bit in his arm. "Was this his idea?"
The alley opened onto a somewhat wider street. There were a few street lamps, but the street level windows were all dark. Enzo recognized nothing. He wasn't even sure which way they should go. But he needn't ponder it long. A carriage appeared at a corner just ahead, stopping under one of the lights. The driver, outside of the glow, was unrecognizable. But Enzo did recognize the man that stepped out.
"Bhaal." Enzo said to Tiberius, gesturing toward the man with his chin. At least they wouldn't have to carry Mal the rest of the way home.
Mal's world faded to black, the tainted drink finally taking its full toll. His weight was dead and heavy, a limp burden that made every step a struggle, but they finally emerged onto the wider street, a little breathless.
A carriage pulled up, the horses snorting in the cool night air. The door swung open with some force, and out stepped Bhaal. His stern face reflected both concern and annoyance as he took in the sight of the three men. Mal, unconscious and unresponsive, was the focus of his immediate attention. Bhaal stretched out a hand to lift Mal’s chin, magic swiftly seeping into the unconscious youth without hesitation.
After a moment appraising Mal’s condition the old soldier tutted, “Almonds,” and with a stiff nod to the driver, Bhaal ordered, "Take Malachai and put him inside."
The driver moved swiftly, dropping down from his seat to approach them, and taking Mal from the two younger men would carefully settle him into the carriage. Bhaal turned to Tiberius and Enzo, his expression softening slightly. "Tiberius, Enzo. You should both head home," he instructed firmly, eyeing Enzo curiously. "Mal will be fine. His allergy to almonds is mild, but whatever you’ve been drinking didn’t help matters. Go home. Preferably before he,” gesturing to Enzo, “catches a chill. Try not to flash anyone either."
As the carriage door closed, signalling their friends' safety, Bhaal prepared to join Mal inside, casting one last glance at the two young men. "Take care of yourselves," he said, his tone carrying the weight of a fatherly admonition. "And be more cautious in the future. If something is too much of a good thing, it’s usually got strings, or a nice knife waiting for a gullible neck."
With all said and done, his charge retrieved Bhaal had the carriage rumble off, carrying their friend homeward. He’d perhaps reach out the next day, or in the days after to make sense of how he’d made it home, how he’d earned some deep scratches in his arms. Even if the night was foggy, there was the complete belief that it was mostly Enzo’s fault and no-one would convince Mal otherwise.
“We did go to the Rose and Pony. Don’t you remember?” Oh, fuck. Tiberius squeezed his eyes shut, packing that particular line of thought away for later. Whatever was wrong with Enzo seemed secondary to whatever was wrong with Mal. It was a relief to see Bhaal’s familiar carriage, even though it made a tight fit in these twisty, dark streets. Tiberius focused on keeping Mal upright, relieved when that duty fell to the carriage driver instead.
"We’re sorry to have troubled you, m’lord.” And which drink had had almonds in it, anyway? The odd one from the girls, perhaps? He glanced sideways at Enzo and endured the gentle scolding from Malachai’s mentor. It was very good to hear that he’d be okay.
Soon enough, they were dismissed with the closing of the carriage door. Tiberius watched it go, then turned his attention to their surroundings. He’d not walked very far with the girl, so …
Where had the other ones gone? Were they still about?
“Come on.” He didn’t intend to go home – Enzo’s home would do. "I didn’t know he couldn’t have almonds. Did you?"
If he had not snuck into the Pavus estate quite so often, perhaps they would have been caught. It was a close thing this time, with Enzo asking endless questions about the night even as they climbed through his bedroom window.
“Look, I imagine it’s very upsetting to lose your memory, but please shut up about it.” Tiberius flopped dramatically onto Enzo’s bed. After a sullen moment he began tugging awkwardly at the laces of his boots, until they were loose enough to kick off. He did so, wincing at the noise they made hitting the floor. “And for the last time, it wasn’t Mal’s idea at all.” Though Valentius certainly hadn’t complained much while it was all happening.
“You found them and invited them up. I left when I couldn’t stand to watch you eye-fuck that brunette any longer.” He threw his arm across his eyes, grimacing. Jealousy was never pretty, but he doubted he looked any better from Enzo’s selectively altered point of view.
