savetheearth | (no subject)

Who: Eriks and Eugen
What: Booze. Yeah............
Where: Eriks' place, because Eugen now gets carded for beer
When: Friday night

There isn't a whole lot of legal protocol for adults who suddenly find themselves in teenage bodies, particularly when it comes to drinking laws. The law is pretty black and white regarding IDs, though, and what constitutes "you look nothing at all like your ID, punk, who do you think you're kidding?" It's why Eriks makes good on his promise to be a designated alcohol-purchaser, regardless of dubious legality, and offers up his apartment as a convenient alternative to bars Eugen is probably no longer qualified for. His kitchen is clean, safe, and out of sight of law enforcement officers.

... Aside from... himself...

Anyway.

When you really only see a guy at the gym or, occasionally, through work - you sometimes wouldn't mind changing the scenery up. Somewhere less sweaty and full of macho guys, for example. And while he's really not much of a drinker himself, he went to college like everyone else. Surely no harm can come of it, he tells himself. Surely. Besides, they don't actually have to polish off the amount of booze he invested in.

"So," he begins, as he idly perches himself on one of the counters, legs swinging freely. "You never did tell me how things went with the folks. Or should I ask again a few drinks from now?"

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This is the first time Eugen steps into Eriks' house and he's honestly surprised by how clean it is. Though, with how sparsely furnished it is, it will take a gigantic amount of effort to mess it up. Give it a few more months and he'll probably be able to see what sort of person the federal agent is at home. For now, he'll relish in the cleanliness, a stark contrast to his own unkempt bachelor dorm.

Since Eriks is providing the booze, Eugen decides to share the cookies he received from Celia this morning. It's tasty and most importantly free, which means he doesn't need to spend a penny on them. Putting them on the counter, he takes a seat and grabs a bottle of beer for himself.

"Believe it or not, I haven't spoken to them yet. The research team works me like a dog, I've only gotten free today." He shakes his head in exasperation as he takes a sip from the bottle.

Eriks wastes no time plucking up one of the cookies, in-between the slow nursing of his own beer. It's been a few years since he's had one, but true to memory, it's a bit of an acquired taste. Sort of like coffee, except he can't put three sugars and two creamers in a beer.

Oh well.

"What? For real?! You don't even get regular days off?" He leans forward with the might of his indignation. Even he gets more reliable time off, and he's with the goddamn FBI! "They're gonna burn you out in no time, man."

It doesn't take too long until Eugen notices Eriks exceptionally slow pace with his bottle. With a raised brow, he asks, "What's wrong? If you don't like it, you don't have to drink with me. Have something else." The last thing he wants is to make his host uncomfortable in his own home.

He sighs audibly, shrugging lazily as he takes a bite of cookie. "Well, it's not entirely their fault. I have to juggle between the research team and my own doctorate project so it's extra hectic." Still, the fact that Eriks seems upset for him makes him a little happy. It's good to know someone cares, even if it's Eriks. "Thanks for caring though."

"It's not that I don't like it," he says, rolling one shoulder. If he's being honest with himself, he's in it for the buzz more than the drinking itself. He could use some forced relaxation, for all that he puts on a show of being utterly careless. "I just haven't had one in a few years. Pacing yourself is important!"

(Don't point out that it's just a beer, and no one needs to seriously pace themselves with beer.)

He sets the bottle down leans back on one hand, focusing on the cookie with the other. No pacing is required here; he could devour several dozen of these before anyone even notices.

"I always care! You just give me a really bad rap most of the time." He points at Eugen accusingly. With the cookie. "You should work on that."

He could points out that no one pace themselves with beer unless they are ten but since Eriks is actually being nice this time around, he'll spare him the agony of swallowing his pride. So instead, Eugen gives him a look that hints as much before picking up a piece of cookie himself. "Whatever makes you comfortable then."

The cookie pointing amuses him but not as much as the accusation, or rather his claim since it's more or less true. It's not that Eugen deliberately gives him a hard time but anything that comes from the agent tends to aggravates him and he responds without filtering his annoyance. If he has to describe it, he'll call them mutually destructive, although nothing short of their ego and pride were destroyed.

"You annoys me nine times out of the ten you open your mouth. You work on it too." And that cookie, Eugen is snatching it.

Cookie theft is a serious crime. He looks despairing for a moment before compromising by picking his beer back up and taking a large, sullen swig.

"Only nine times?" He sounds vaguely disappointed, like maybe he hasn't been doing a good enough job all this time. "I guess I will have to work on that."

That's probably not what you meant, Eugen, but that's just fine.

"Seriously, though," he says, leaning forward a bit and replacing cookie-waving with beer-waving. He does actually sound some modicum more serious than he has for the duration of this conversation, so at least there's that. "I'm not actually out to make your life harder. At work or at the gym or" - beer wave - "wherever. In general."

He knows FBI involvement in just about anything is an unwelcome hassle, and he's not exactly fond of how any of the Numbered-related issues have been handled so far, Gundams included. In truth, it isn't even his detail - he's Criminal Investigation. He just hangs around in the hopes of being something of a buffer between Numbered people and old, weathered FBI agents who don't want to compromise on anything.

It's an uphill battle, though.

"Though I guess that might be kinda hard to believe."

He deliberately bites the cookies slowly just to gloat at Eriks.

"Sometimes you can be nice, like now and when you tried making me feel better after I..." Well... "...changed." It's still weird talking about it but whatever. "So, don't. That one time makes you bearable, otherwise I'm afraid I'll have to kill you." Like he can. Also, that's probably not the sort of things to say to a federal agent but they're not at a formal situation so Eugen gives protocol a whole lot less consideration.

To be fair, it's not as if he doesn't understand what Eriks is saying. The FBI involvement is really annoying and Eugen really loathes that his every movement is being closely monitored. Yes, the Gundams are dangerous weapon but hadn't Neil, Banagher and him fought for the safety of the city? Why are they being treated as if they are some criminals? It infuriates him but he knows better than to take it out on Eriks.

Taking a sip from his bottle, he shrugs, voice low with resignation, "Well, even if you are, there's nothing I can do about it except to deal with you anyway. Prisoner like me has no say in your federal business, isn't it?" Something that the R&D Team seems to love reminding him about despite the fact that they know shit about his Gundam.

There's no reaction to the jesting death threat, aside from a single eyebrow climbing into his hairline and the slightest of smirks as he knocks back the last of his beer. Really, he's downright used to others expressing their desire to shoot, strangle or stomp on him. He just brings out the best in people.

At this point, it would almost seem odd without the grumpy threats of physical violence.

At the prisoner comment, though, he sighs and reaches for another beer. There's a long, thoughtful moment as he cracks it open, like he's choosing his words carefully. Or maybe is just concentrating really hard on getting the bottle-cap off. Who knows.

"I'm hoping it'll change, you know." Taking another long sip before lowering the bottle, watching Eugen thoughtfully. This probably would have been a more eloquent conversation before that last bottle - he hasn't eaten a proper dinner, aside from a few bites of cookie - but what can ya' do. "The suspicion and the heavy-handedness and being afraid of the Numbered and... everything. At least, I want to help make it that way."

While Eriks keeps himself busy with the new bottle, Eugen munches on the cookies in quiet concentration. He knows he touched a sensitive subject but it's not as if he has ever keep quiet about this particular piece of opinion. It's a sore point that frustrates him but he's unable to let it slide because it would mean allowing the FBI to trample all over the pilots. So, he stubbornly stands his ground and make his displeasure known. Neil can handle the PR.

Or so he thought. He's aware that he's not exactly making himself trustworthy and he's probably jeopardizing his own position within the R&D Team. It's becoming clear that the team is keeping information from him (not that he doesn't do the exact same thing) and he's been told to cooperate more than once. The R&D Team has been making it a point to tell him that they are interested in keeping him in the team but Eugen is too stubborn for his own good. He's aware of the consequences but even so he knows it's only a matter of time before he has to put his concerns aside so he wouldn't endanger the other pilots.

Though now that he's looking at Eriks again, he couldn't help but snorts at his comment. "Really? I wish I share your optimism." Gulping down the last of his bottle, he puts in down, looking no worse on the sobriety scale. "You want to help? How?"