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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 15:40:19 GMT -5
Tybalt staggered down a hallway, smelling very strongly of booze that had sloshed onto his Latverian tunic, given to him by a pitying soldier after he asked for it, miming drinking, and rasped out in bad Hungarian, "For heaven's sake--" He felt himself along the wall until he had found the door he was looking for, at which point he leaned on it, slid down a bit, and began banging on it.
"My lord? My lord my lord my lord-"
He was too drunk to quite have any head for how noisesome he was being, or if he was enunciating quite clearly, or any of that sort of thing; being Tybalt it was already difficult enough to be sure of those things when sober, and they flew right out the window when he was not.
The door opened unexpectedly and Tybalt fell into the room with an "oof!", pushing himslf up on his elbow and scrabbling up. Maybe Doctor Doom helped him - he didn't notice for certain.
"I would like to swear an oath of fealty now please." Was that saliva on his chin? Maybe just a bit. Hand lifted, wiping his face against his wrist he looked up and babbled the same sentence again, then looked almost spooked. "My lord, are you wearing clothes under that?"
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 20:10:38 GMT -5
The torchlight cast queer shadows, but Doom's look of alarm was more than a trick of the light. There was some muffled cursing (in a dialect Tybalt probably would not have yet picked up, even from his unlucky sparring partners) and the tyrant swept back.
"The monarch of Latveria requires time in which to bathe," Doom declared with a hint of reproach, but not much. Tybalt was staggeringly drunk.
"And he is not accustomed to making oaths with the inebriated. Stand, if you are able."
(He double-checked that his robe was securely fastened. It had been donned in haste; mercifully he had not yet removed his mask in the course of undressing or Tybalt would not have been marveling at his sovereign's bare legs.)
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 20:25:53 GMT -5
Tybalt sluggishly tore his eyes from them.
"Bathe? You're bathing?"
He stared at the vee of dark muscled skin below Doom's robe.
"You're not in armour-"
He staggered to his feet, tripped backwards and knocked several large volumes off a table.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 20:38:21 GMT -5
Doom caught him by the arm to steady him before he could hit the ground again, scooping up the largest of the tomes with his other hand with a minimum of grunting and cursing.
"Armor is as natural and familiar to me as your own dark garb is to you. But it is not an extension of my skin, does this surprise you?"
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 20:39:40 GMT -5
"I like your skin, I just never thought I would see it," he said in a startled tone.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 20:53:24 GMT -5
Doom replaced the last of the books, a little befuddled by this statement.
"It fulfills its purpose."
Who knew what the men and women of Tybalt's homeland looked like? There was only conjecture, the nuisance Mercutio had given a general impression of fox-colored hair and fair skin, but granted the usual range of varying complexions for a vaguely Southern European-parallel culture -- perhaps it was nothing unusual to him. Victor had never received positive attention for his complexion, beyond misguided flattery from American women.
"Who provided the alcohol?" There was no need to question why Tybalt would want to get blind drunk after such an unhappy revelation as he'd lately received.
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 20:54:39 GMT -5
Tybalt was distracted by the slim v of bare chest, touching it in naked fascination.
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 20:56:33 GMT -5
Doom firmly removed that hand, with only further bewilderment.
"Your comrades will not be incriminated. Doom merely wishes to regulate any amateur attempts at distillery."
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 20:57:44 GMT -5
"It was.... it was..."
But he was too distracted to say anything further.
"My God."
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 20:59:22 GMT -5
"You are in no condition to be upright, let alone pledging your solemn word of service."
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 21:02:42 GMT -5
Tybalt scooted back, attempting to sit down on the nearby bed and gripping Doom's robe for a moment as he slipped.
Then instead he dropped to his knees against, still gripping the robe.
"But that is what I want to do. To pledge... you are a great lord, my lord. It's all I have. It's all I can- all that I can do-"
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 21:14:08 GMT -5
Doom's hand found its way to the top of Tybalt's head.
"You would scarcely consider such a rash proposition but for your present state. You are welcome in Doomstadt as a guest until you find an abode better suited to you. Regardless of your service." Never mind that Tybalt found the prospect of a year in Latveria little better than death.
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 21:16:16 GMT -5
"Your- your hand is on my head-"
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Post by Victor von Doom on Apr 13, 2012 21:17:40 GMT -5
"Signifying no hostility!"
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Post by Tybalt on Apr 13, 2012 21:23:15 GMT -5
"I've jerked off thinking about that-"
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