savetheearth | ᴛᴡᴏ. [ action; at a bar, evening ]

[ It's been a long, long past twenty-four hours for Casval.

Most of it was spent curled up in the corner of his totaled office, and then his bedroom, lonelier than ever, when staying was no longer feasible. Sheets drawn over his head though sleep wouldn't come in a vain effort to block out the noise of hearing himself scream over and over again of how he'd wipe the world clean, how it was fit for eradication, extinction, Amuro Ray, don't you see? He doesn't know an Amuro Ray and never wants to, never wants to know a Char Aznable, either but he's stuck with him since he's settled deep into his brain with no hopes of unseating his awful presence and that's what gets him the most, because if there was one thing Casval didn't need, it was another voice to join all the rest already prickling at his jumbled thoughts.

Eventually he runs out of alcohol to numb the encroaching madness and stumbles his way over to the nearest bar, disheveled and disoriented. He drinks and drinks and drinks until they say he's had enough but it isn't. It isn't and will never be.

He doesn't remember when he collapses against the counter but he does remember a distinct lack of dignity when it happens, drifting as the hours drag on. There was nothing dignified about this situation and there's no dignified lift to Casval's step when he's ushered out of the bar, sick and stumbling.

He won't remember any of this by tomorrow, and really, that's sort of the point. Because if he did remember, he has a feeling that'd be the last straw to snap him completely. ]

(( So yeah after spending all day attempting to tune out the world Casval has come out of his angsty cocoon and is drinking his sorrows away. You're free to run into him at any point during this endeavor, at the bar, him going or him leaving -- multiple options here. Get drunk with him, make fun of him, start a fight, whatever. Fair warning that he's very much out of it and likely to snap without provocation/do irresponsible things because he's sick of this life he just wants to scream how could this happen to me him. ))

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[Big Dick bursts into this particular watering hole after a long night of bar hopping. Looks like he had the same idea. He's surrounded by a gaggle of his girls, all competing to impress him by blathering about this and that. One had even seen fit to wrap a feather boa around his neck, leaving feathers to cling to his Armani suit. He spots the back of a familiar blonde head at the bar and swaggers over, taking his entourage of wannabe concubines with him.]

Now pay attention! That is the kind of hair you should be aiming for.

[Is he drunk? Oh, most definitely.]

[ The giggling bunch of no doubt finely mannered ladies would've perked the ears of anyone even remotely male—or otherwise interested—from miles off, but they spur no reaction from Casval, who'd much rather ignore their existence than acknowledge the trouble headed his direction.

And Mr. "Big Dick" was always trouble.

Somehow, that familiar voice cuts through the drunken fog, and Casval is lifting his leaden head with a delayed blink, blink, blink, staring at Richard through reddened eyes. What are you doing here? He doesn't ask but he already knows.

This is not going to end well for him. ]

["If you hit a deer on the road and it's still alive, shoot it in the head." One of the few good pieces of advice his father had given him. Big Dick is definitely aiming to shoot this particular deer between the eyes. It'd be nice mounted on his wall.]

May, June, Julia.

[He snaps his fingers and three girls step forward: a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead.]

What do you think, Captain Mass? Pick your flavor. Or do you want to go neapolitan?

[ Boy, would it ever. But Casval still is cognizant enough to sense a trap when it's about to spring, especially one as obvious as this. Even if Richard's sporting three heads all of a sudden and those girls smell enticing if horribly, terribly trashy at the same time. ]

Take your bloody cocksluts [ ouch, language ] somewhere else.

[ He manages to groan it out, clawing a few strands of scraggy hair into place and shooting him a look. ]

Not interested.

Now, now, let's not be rash. At least let them walk you back to base. Or do you want to be seen all drunk and disorderly?

[A drunken man's mind is easy to fathom. They're looking to make mistakes. They want to make mistakes.]

[ Except mistakes were already made. Far too many. Casval shakes his head. Whines, like a child, and feels like one, lost and abandoned. Turns aside so he can't see them smirking at him. ]

Too late for that. [ Too late for everything. Just whip out your pretty iGadget already so he can be done with this. ] Go. Please.

[His girls have already gotten more than enough pictures for him. That's not good enough. Not quite enough potential leverage.]

May, would you please help Captain Mass to his feet? He's had enough.

[ Casval's only response is to lift a booted foot and growl. Bare his teeth and threaten a swipe.

But his fangs are dull, he's tired, and the moment he gets touched is likely the moment he'll go soft. Still, he puts on an admirable show. May had better watch her ankle if she doesn't want it broken. ]

Good, now carry him off.

[The girl looks apprehensive but she does as she's told, trying to loop one of Casval's arms over her neck so she can support him with her shoulders.]

[ Casval is pulling away. No.

Looks like this is going to be a team effort. Even drunk, he's a force to be reckoned with. You'll have to go all in on this one, Richard. Everyone pitches in for the sake of a scandal. ]

[You have no idea how much he'd usually charge for this, Casval. Sighing, he snaps his fingers and gestures for all his girls to pitch in. His calendar girls. Twelve of them all named for months of the year. Better not fuck them up too bad, Captain Mass. Big Dick needs them for a photoshoot next week.]

[ Well, shit.

Trouble had walked in the door and now trouble was barreling down the turnpike in the form of slender legs, high heels, and criminally short skirts. Casval makes a weak effort to resist but it's no good. No good at all. Big Dick was right: he wants to make a mistake.

He wants to make a mistake for every damn month of the year for all the mistakes made in a single day. Casval shoots a glare over his shoulder at Richard and murmurs a terse, frightened, fuck you once he's subdued. He'd pay for this now but you'll pay for this later, ten times over, mark his slurred words.

Casval can put mothers to rest, but grudges last forever. ]

ᴛᴡᴏ. [ action; at a bar, evening ]

club can't handle me right now

GIRLS BE UP IN THE CLUB LIKE WOAH, YO

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