It's hard to type 'vodka' when your hands are shaking.

[bitterguardian]

((In the wake of this thread.))

While neither of them has been all that busy, per se, it's easy for two old hermits to fall a little out of touch. Thus the text comes completely out of the blue, on Balthazar's PINpoint, one evening.

needa frin k. nexuus bar won
t takw me.

Balthazar could be forgiven for assuming the Nexus bar won't take him because he is already, in fact, shitfaced. There's not much they turn people away for. Horvath so drunk he can't type seems wholly out of character, though, and when Balthazar PINpoints to him by following the signal of his own device, he finds Horvath sitting quite rigid on a Nexus bench, as far from drunk as it is possible to be. What he is, instead, is deathly pale and sweating, shaking like a leaf, stiff and tense as a cord stretched taut to the breaking point. He's breathing a little fast, wheezing softly, but there are no visible injuries or any signs of blood, although he is slightly damp.
A stench rolls off him, though, something like rotting milk and afterbirth and raw, primal fear. It scrapes at every sense of Wrong a sorcerer could have, and worse than simply Wrong, it's Eldritch.

Comments

[grimholdkeeper]

Yeah, drunk is very not-Maximus. Not without Balthazar, at any rate. He's not sure whether to be amused or concerned by the text, at least not until he arrives.

Then, concerned wins out easily, moving quickly into shocked and alarmed. He starts to reach for him, then hesitates, compassion at war with the magical senses screaming NO at him. "...Maximus? Max, what happened??"

[bitterguardian]

"Don't... ask questions in the Nexus, today." The low voice trembles a little, and is marred by his wheezing breaths. He's better than he was a while ago, in fact, and no longer feels as though he's about to have a heart attack. His breathing has slowed to 'winded' down from 'gasping for air' and he doesn't feel like he's going to vomit anymore. Balthazar missed all that, fortunately, but it means that his appearance is probably a shock.

"You don't... know who might answer." He gives an unsteady little chuckle, while the eldritch stench continues to roll off him in waves. His handkerchief was left behind somewhere on the floor, so he lifts a badly shaking arm and uses his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow, but since his clothes are damp it doesn't do much to help. It's no wonder the bar turned him away. Actually the bartender, very kindly, suggested he go home and take several long showers.

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar is silent for a full minute, turning over the implications in his mind. His lack of response is probably not reassuring, in fact, but if Horvath looks, at least he'll see the perfectly sane, lucid version of his friend, scrambling for a plan.

"Let's get you out of here." Bleeding creatures draw predators. Better not to take chances.

Also better not to bring the stench of eldritch into areas filled with sensitive magical objects. "Not my place, or yours. I know a hotel on my world. They won't ask too many questions."

The jokes about Balthazar taking his best friend to an hourly rate hotel can wait until Horvath is less shell-shocked.

[bitterguardian]

"No, I... I can't go home." He gives a stronger shudder, before going back to the constant state of shivering. It's not that he feels cold, precisely, he just can't seem to stop vibrating. While Balthazar's been silent, he has darted a few glances his way, but he has nothing to contribute to a plan, and just nods in acceptance. A trembling hand fumbles for the cane, and he levers himself up, together enough to go through all the motions of walking around and getting where he needs to go. That's some presence of mind, at least, and he's shaking badly still, but he's perfectly capable of the basics.

"...No vodka?" It's a whisper, a dry-lipped attempt at a joke, and he gives a twitchy little smile that says he's doing his best to hold himself together, right now.

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar still doesn't really want to touch him...and that makes him feel ashamed. Pulling his coat closer, he forces himself to put an arm around him, supporting. At least Horvath can rest assured it's not him, it's just the milk drenching his outfit.

"Oh, I can do vodka." He smiles weakly and reaches for his PINpoint. "But lets get you in clean clothes first."

[bitterguardian]

He nods again, and leans into the touch a moment, closing his eyes. While he's not exactly surprised if Balthazar wants to keep his distance right now, that little piece of reassurance is also sorely needed. "Maybe you... could pop home for me and fetch something clean? Check on the girls? I think..." He swallows and catches his breath. "I think they'd just run from me, right now."

He's badly shaken, but his mind has not snapped, so that's something. Horvath is himself, just with an edge of mild hysteria.

[grimholdkeeper]

"I can do that." He gently brushes Horvath's forehead with the backs of his fingers, then taps the PINpoint. The exchange at the front desk of the hotel is brief. The clerk is clearly unnerved, but without their magical senses, she's hard pressed to figure out why, and is just happy to hasten them along.

Balthazar will be sure to leave a substantial tip for the housekeeper.

"Wait here," he says, unlocking the room door for Maximus. "I'll get a drink for you, too."

[bitterguardian]

Horvath allows himself to be led, letting Balthazar do all the talking to arrange things, and limping after them up to the room. He does not, in fact, actually want to touch anything once he's in it, and just wanders over to the open space of floor and stands there eyeing the place uncertainly. He's going to need a bath. Possibly several. He just may never feel clean again.

"...and soap?" Two fingers rise to massage his brow, arm twitching. "Lots of soap. Or maybe bleach. Brillo pads..." Horvath gives a shaky little chuckle, utterly devoid of humor.

[grimholdkeeper]

"We'll start with soap," he says gently. "And do a cleansing ritual later. Take deep breaths; I'll be as quick as I can."

He PINpoints directly from the room and is gone for less than twenty minutes. He returns with an overnight bag.

[bitterguardian]

Twenty minutes is long enough for Horvath to give in and sit on the foot of one of the beds, hands gripping the head of his cane in an effort to keep them from shaking.

In his home underground, Smoke and Whisper watch with mild interest when Balthazar appears, trailing after him to the bedroom but keeping out of reach. Whatever he encountered in the Nexus, it hasn't touched there.
His closet is full of three-piece suits and oxford shirts and waistcoats. The man appears to one precisely one pair of blue jeans, barely worn.

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar's opinion of blue jeans is similar, but he doesn't have nearly so many suits. He pulls together as casual an outfit as he can find, grabs towels and soap and a shaving kit, and adds a couple full bottles of liquor on top.

The cats get fed before he leaves.

"All right. I'm back." He sets the bag down gently. "Should I start drawing the bathwater?"

[bitterguardian]

"...Please?" He gives Balthazar a look that's slightly desperate and apologetic all at once. He feels filthy, in a soul-deep kind of way, and modesty and dignity be damned but he just wants to scrub off a few layers of skin at least, and get drunk off his ass.

After a moment he gets stiffly to his feet again and comes to the bathroom doorway, trying to maintain a polite distance. "I meant it, about the Nexus. Be careful..." His breathing seems to be closer to normal, now.

[grimholdkeeper]

He nods, and hastens to turn on the water. The hotel's hot water tank is pathetic, but a little magical tweaking and the bath will be as hot as Horvath can stand. Slightly fussy, the younger sorcerer sets out the clean towels, then backs off to let the water run.

"I'll...stay away for a few days. I'm not asking for details, but if you want to talk, I'll listen."

[bitterguardian]

"Starts with Shh." He gives another little shudder, and feels ashamed of himself for falling apart so far, but a steadying breath and the shaking is back to the level it was. That, too, has eased a little. Just knowing Balthazar is there to steady him helps, more than he even realized it would. His only thought before was to get drunk with him and pick up the pieces later when he could think straight, but now that the idea of actually cleaning up has been mentioned, it's become his first priority.

"I don't... I'm not sure I can talk about it while... while I'm still... perhaps after. Over vodka."

[grimholdkeeper]

"Then don't talk about it. I'll be right outside the bathroom. Probably play the radio, if you don't mind?"

Pause. "...and I'll burn those clothes for you once you're out of them."

[bitterguardian]

"Yes, and yes." He smiles weakly, feeling unsteady still. "I... I mean, no, I don't mind the radio. And burn the clothes. Is there a garbage bag to put them in?" He peers into the bathroom to check that it's got a plastic bag lining it he can use. He'll have to keep the contents of his wallet, but anything on him that he can possibly spare to throw away, he will.

[grimholdkeeper]

"Yes, I put one in the bottom of the duffel bag. I'll have to slip outside. I don't think magical fire is a good idea in this case."

He digs clothing and the trash bags out of the duffel and offers them out tentatively.

[bitterguardian]

"You... should probably put those on the counter. I don't want to touch them yet." He leans his cane inside the door and pauses, caught briefly by his reflection.

"...Dear lord I look awful..." It's the first genuinely distracting thought he's had, anyway, so he just stares for a moment, then shakes his head a little. He'll move aside to let Balthazar escape, though. "Thank you..."

[grimholdkeeper]

"Oh...yes. Of course." He lays things out carefully on the counter by the sink, and on the tank of the toilet.

His reflection's eyes meet Horvath's, tensely sympathetic. "I've seen you in more presentable condition, yeah. I'll try and make you something against nightmares; you'll need rest."

[bitterguardian]

Very tactful, Balthazar. But they have both seen each other in sorry states before, and in the mirror Horvath gives the hint of a fleeting smirk, going hollow-eyed and giving another shudder at the mention of nightmares. "I can't... even imagine sleeping for a few days, now..." He reaches for the garbage bag, shakes it out and drops it on the floor, then begins to peel off his suit jacket. That and his vest have taken the worst of it.

Balthazar may want to move along, because he seems in a hurry to strip down, and who can blame him?

[grimholdkeeper]

"We'll work on that," he reassures, then slips out to give him privacy.

In a few moments, the radio begins to play the classic rock station. Not Horvath's first choice, perhaps, but it's still music, and hopefully soothing.

[bitterguardian]

Left alone with the door more or less closed, Horvath strips off in earnest, everything but his rings is coming off, and he just may have to scrub those off one by one, too. Wallet and PINpoint are set on the edge of the counter, clothes all go into the trash bag without even a thought of trying to salvage them, and he even tosses is his right shoe and sock, then sits on the edge of the tub to undo the straps of his prosthetic leg...

which is also damp.

His quiet cursing is probably not audible, over the radio. He pulls the sock and shoe off it, and adds those to the trash bag, but there's no way he's throwing out his leg. He'll just have to clean it up as best he can, later. For the time being, it goes into a separate trash bag, which he ties shut firmly to shut out the smell. His hands are shaking again.

Hobbling to the door, he chucks the trash bag into the hall and calls out reluctantly, "One more favor, Bel? There's... a crutch, in the wardrobe at home..." He pauses, clearly awkward. "Just leave it by the door?" He shuts the bathroom door without waiting for an answer, and a minute later the tap turns off and he starts scrubbing. He'll be in there for a while.

[grimholdkeeper]

"Crutch..." He answers slowly, confused, then it clicks and he winces. "Oh. Oh, Max. Yes, of course. I'll be right back."

He PINpoints again, returning quietly, and by the time Horvath comes out, the requested item will be perched against the door.

[bitterguardian]

If he hears Balthazar's little moment of revelation through the closed door, he doesn't bother to respond to it. After a while there's the sound of the water draining, and then, before it's quite finished the taps start to run again. Another tubful, more scrubbing, draining water and then a very brief shower- he'd take longer at that but there's no handrail and he can only stand on one leg for so long. At last the sounds of bathing finish after over an hour, and he takes his time drying off and dressing.

When Horvath emerges, he's got his left pantleg folded up and tucked so that it comes short a little below the knee, and he has to use the crutch to get around, but he does look better. The sweating has stopped, he's got most of his color back, and his hands will probably be shaky for a while yet but he's stopped shivering and twitching every few minutes. He hobbles to the closest bed, sits, and lets out a heavy sigh.

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar's got a cup of high quality black coffee waiting on the stand for him, still hot. There's no milk or cream in sight, but plenty of sugar if he wants it.

The younger sorcerer is humming quietly with the radio when Horvath emerges, and sees no reason to stop when he emerges.

[bitterguardian]

Ordinarily he prefers tea, but right now that looks appealing, and as a prelude to vodka it can't hurt. Horvath shifts closer, leans the crutch against the bed, and uses both hands to pick up the cup so their shaking won't spill it everywhere. He takes the first sip black, and doesn't care if it sears his mouth and throat.

That done, he lets out a shaky sigh, and listens to the humming until the song has finished and the DJ is babbling about some call-in contest. "Thank you. I don't know... where I'd be right now, without you." Possibly in the Nexus still, gibbering quietly to himself and stinking. The scent lingers still, in fact, but it's faint and tolerable now. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you."

[grimholdkeeper]

Balthazar turns down the radio and comes over to sit next to his old friend. "I don't know who I'd be now without you to look after," he answers, a gentle tease.

Honestly, they both look after each other.

Now that the smell is reduced, he's comfortable with putting a fraternal arm around Maximus, sighing softly. "Just a bit, but I'm not angry."

[bitterguardian]

The way he leans into the touch says something about how badly he needs it, much as he seems to be holding together, now. "I was... a little alarmed, myself. I think I panicked... Can you forgive me? I'm still not..." He shakes his head a little. "I still feel... crawly. Inside." There's no better word for it, that he can come up with.

[grimholdkeeper]

Always tactile, Balthazar sinks into the half-embrace, cuddling. "You're forgiven. I think...I think it might be a good idea to wait to tell me what happened. Just a bit longer. We're safe here, anyway."

[bitterguardian]

He swallows and nods, and this time the shudder is mild enough that Balthazar doesn't see it, only feels it go through Horvath's broad, hunched shoulders. "I think that vodka might be a good idea, yet." He summons up a wry little smile. "Alcohol is antiseptic, after all."