Painting Trip

[Demeter]

: "I suppose, but maybe she won't. She hate seeing me in pain so the thought of hurting me might turn her off." He sighed quietly before raising up his drink to his lips and drinking slowly. "Here's to the women in our lives and hoping they never change."

[Sky]

"I can drink to that," Demetrius answered, looking mildly saddened. For a moment, he was lost in thought of his beautiful wife, Filomena - who he hadn't seen in person for close to nine months. He missed her greatly and desired at times to just give up his position as a royal guard to go home to her, but he never would. As much as he loved his family, Eraklyon would always come first. He knew that Filomena hated that fact, but she had known that Eraklyon was his life when she married him, so she couldn't very well blame him now if she was unhappy . . .

[Demeter]

: Rowen passed a photo over to his friend. "Wystie's current look. She keeps threatening to cut her hair but she hasn't yet." He remembered his friend wanting to strangle him everytime he complained about courting Wysteria and when he waxed poetically about her. "Remember when I courted her?"

[Sky]

Demetrius snorted, "How could I forget? For a good long while she was all you ever talked about. It was Wysteria this and Wysteria that - I almost felt like I was dating her myself!" Good-naturedly, Demetrius continued as he poured himself another glass of wine, "But it all turned out for the best, didn't it? After all, you landed the lady you wanted and I'd bet my life that you're still in as much love with her as you were when you first started courting her. Not everyone can say that, you know."

[Demeter]

Rowen gave a wry grin. "All of my painting trips are to get paintings done so I can sell them. Someone's bound to buy them, and then I can give her the money so she doesn't have to work in that shop anymore. I want her to relax for once."

He laughed quietly and sipped his glass of wine. He was a slow drinker but he'd get incredibly drunk later. "So, what type of wine is this?"

[Sky]

"This, my good, dear, old friend, is what is known as Tempranillo wine. It's a red wine that is known for its spicy, almost tobacco-like flavor." Chuckling, Demetrius added, his words slurred, "And consequently, it's one of my favorites. There's just something about it that I just can't get enough of."

Lazily, Demetrius poured himself another large glass of wine, his hand wobbling immensely. Grinning at Rowen, he took a big gulp from his glass and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Mmmm; that's the stuff - goes straight to my stomach and makes me feel all warm and cozy inside." Seeing that Rowen wasn't indulging as much as he was, Demetrius playfully attempted to punch his friend on the arm, but missed in light of his distorted perception, and instead hit the air. "Come on now, Rowen, drink up, buddy. How often do you get wine as fine as this? Enjoy it. Indulge, for cryin' out loud." Wiggling his index finger in front of Rowen's nose, Demetrius teased, "Come on - you know you wanna."

[Demeter]

: "Have you forgotten that it takes me a while to get drunk?" Rowen asked, sipping slowly. "Besides, you forgot that I used to drink you under the table." He laughed quietly. "At least it's not that Dwarf made brandy you gave me during the war. Great Dragon, I couldn't walk for days, let alone see straight."

[Sky]

Demetrius roared with laughter as he teased, "Why that Dwarf brandy was kiddy stuff! Anyone with half a stomach could drink a bottle of that without feeling the effects. You, I hate to say, are just a weak drunk. Yep. I said it; I went there. I, on the other hand, have a strong stomach - I've never once had to vomit because of drinking too much. To me, there's no such thing as being too drunk. Now, then - what does that say, hmm? Perhaps now you'll care to revise your story of 'drinking me under the table'?"

Tossing back down the rest of the contents of his glass, Demetrius leaned forward yet again to pour himself another glass of wine.

[Demeter]

: "One would think that you are addicted to smoking if that drink of yours has a tobacco-like flavour." Rowen gave his friend a withered look. "Yes, but which of us is able to drive those hell beasts you modern people call cars because they're still considered sober. Oh, right, that would be me," he teased. "And you forget, my people are delicate so we're bound to feel certain effects."

He leaned over and whispered something to the bartender. A large pitcher of Dwarf brandy was placed on their table. "All right, old friend. Our old drinking game. One shot per round. First person to fall off their chair loses. And what are the terms of the bet this time?"