Keeping a tight grip on his shoulder Clive pulls him back enough so that Cid is in a semi-upright state. Enough so that the younger man can peer at his face. ]
[And what a story state he is. Although his eyes are red, there's not really much evidence of tears being shed. Though whatever sour expression he has will be completely ruined by the very noticeable dent on his forehead from where the edge of the table had been pressing against it for gods knows how long.]
Says you.
[And as if acting in defiance, he just glares at Clive before swinging the hand holding the bottle and starts chugging it down, trickles of the drink dribbling down the corner of his mouth because he's not really caring.]
[ Clive studies the man's face for a moment. He can't think of a single possibility why he was in such a state, but no way he was going to get anything out of him like this.
He's reaching for the bottle with his free hand and tearing it from Cid's, banging the bottle against the table with a loud slam. ]
I said... that's enough. We need to get you sobered up.
[ The hand on his shoulder slips to the man's side, attempting to pull him up from and off of the bench. No one even seemed remotely interested in what was happening. Just what kind of place did he find himself in?
He would have lots of questions later, but for now... ]
[ He won't try to avoid it, instead merely brace for the impact. The fist hits its mark and the sound of glove meeting flesh echoes off the pub's walls.
Torgal will begin to bark with his tail raised in alarm, but Clive won't attempt to retaliate. Not yet.
Instead he'll spit out the bit of blood that formed in his mouth and continue to pry Cid out of the chair, keeping his firm grip. ]
[Only a few heads turned before they turned back to their own drunken stupor, with only the bartenders and bouncers watching. But this "fight" is over before it barely began.
After that one swing, all the energy and whatever "spirit" seems to have left him, Cid just stumbling as he struggles before he seems to resign.]
Fucking brat...
[Another slurred swear before Clive now has to deal with the dead weight named Cidolfus Telamon as the older man just slumps over.]
[ There's a small sigh that escapes his lips when Cid's weight falls against him. He's even seen the man in such a sorry state- drunk, sure- but this? It would be difficult to devise exactly what happened without asking, but trying to get anything out of him right now... ]
Let's go Torgal. [ Clive remarks as the hound began to calm back down. He could feel his cheek already beginning to swell but ignores it in lieu of repositioning the older man to throw his shoulder around Clive's neck.
Having only just recently made landfall the area was still too unfamiliar to know of any infirmary, as if this place would even have something like that... so back to his place, then. Cid was going to owe him for this. ]
Can you walk? [ Not exactly expecting a response Clive will press on through the pub and out, shouldering most of the man's weight against his body. It'll take much longer to get to where he's going this way, but maybe the fresh air will help. ]
He won't say anything. Simply pull off to the side when he hears that oh so familiar sound and and shaking of the older man's body. He'll allow him to relieve himself and cursing inwardly that he didn't at least give the man a water... but considering his state he might not even be able to keep that down-
Torgal looks on with a concerned whimper, but Clive pets the top of his head to assure him otherwise. With one hand on the wolf and the other soothing Cid's back, he certainly had his hands full...
But it was back to hoisting Cid's arm over his shoulder when he was done, likely stopping a few more times before finally arriving to the foot of the apartments.
[Now that the awkwardness of their first night spent together at the inn back in Eltrut has passed, it's become a little easier for Jill to find herself seeking out Clive's company much like she did at home. There's just one difference and it's when she chooses to do so. When the sky has gone dark and most people have settled into bed, it means very few eyes are open to catch Jill slipping into Clive's apartment and she prefers it that way. Privacy is a very desired thing, even if they mostly spend the hours not doing much more than just talking. But when someone's baby brother is running around, the last thing Jill wants is to have to explain why she walked into the apartment after dinner only to leave a little after the sun has come up.
So her eyes are searching the streets for a familiar face to avoid as she quickly steps along the path, only to come across two other faces she knows all too well. Three if you count the snout of the furry companion that trails alongside them.
They both seem in bad shape, making any thoughts about caught be outright forgotten and replaced by absolute worry. The moon is shining just enough for her to take in the bruise darkening Clive's cheek and the slumped over form of Cid. Something happened here, but what exactly?]
Clive, what happened to your face?! [There will be no apologies for her concern having a priority system. That's just how it works.] What happened to him?
[This looks like the side effects of a fight and knowing Barnabas and Benedikta are here, Jill can only imagine the worst has happened tonight.]
[ Clive is in the middle of half stumbling to try and reposition Cid so that he doesn't fall over when he hears the familiar voice. His body reactively loses most of its tension and replaced by a softer, more exhausted demeanor then what it was just moments ago.
He looks happy to see her, relieved even more so, and his gaze will linger to her before returning to Cid's. ]
I'll explain when I can get him indoors. [ He responds in an almost apologetic tone. Cid overtime was walking less and less, making Clive carry the full weight of his barely conscious form. ]
[He doesn't even need to say please. Jill is too worried to care about manners at a time like this, so she does as asked without a word, holding the door open for Clive to lead--or more like drag Cid--through.
As they go along ahead of her, she looks down at Torgal, hoping to maybe get some sort of explanation from him, but all the hound gives her is a whimper and a soft bump to her hand with his nose. Not much to work with, so she'll just remain in distress until actual words come out and make sense of this scene before her.]
[ He would certainly apologize for his lack of manners later, given that his mind was preoccupied in preventing Cid from almost vomiting on him again as he'll, with a nod of thanks, push the two of them through the door.
Eventually the groaning from his unwilling passenger will increase with each bump of the stairwell. The process was clearly uncomfortable for both, but eventually the four will arrive in front of Clive's door. ]
We need to get him into a bath. [ The man begins, trying to support Cid with his body while attempting to use a free hand to reach for the handle. ] I found him drunk in a shithole of a pub. Looked like he'd been there for hours.
[It's a slow trip, but they all get there in one piece. There is just enough time for Jill's mind to come up with all sorts of fantastical reasons for why Clive has to carry Cid home, why Clive's cheek is looking angrier by the second, why any of this is happening. But Clive finally speaks as they reach the apartment's entryway, giving what seems a simple explanation for Cid's condition: too much drink. But the reason behind his imbibing is still a mystery.
What's also a mystery is why Clive is suddenly making a wild suggestion that has Jill looking at Clive, shifting her eyes to the mess that is Cid, and returning to Clive, only to say in no uncertain terms:]
I'm not bathing him.
[She barely survived Clive's bathtime adventure and now he's talking about washing up Cid? No. Absolutely not. As much as she cares about Cid, some boundaries cannot be crossed.]
Neither am I. [ He says almost immediately. He'll shift Cid's weight in his arms, hoisting the man up a bit more before fully stepping into the room.
He will eventually begin clarify when he drags the man over to the washroom, and with a stern grunt continues: ] I mean to have him lie there until he sobers enough to speak.
[As long as they both agree Cid is on his own for baths, Jill can concentrate on closing the door behind them once Clive gets both of them into the apartment. For the moment, there's not much she can do except follow them and help rearrange the man into a position that seems decent enough for a drunk when the time comes.
Whatever Cid imbibed on had to be bad. This isn't the look of just ale.]
[ There's a quick puff of air that escapes his nose- a minor semblance of a laugh in its weakness form. Probably the closest thing to one that he's managed to muster up all day.
Once Cid is fully positioned in the tub, Clive will grab a bucket of water (cold- but not that cold) and dump it into the tub along with the man. Half to wash away whatever remnants remaining on the man's clothes, and half to try to bring him to his senses.
He'll leave the washroom door ajar when he steps out, a clear and evident frown across his face. ]
Thank you for your help. [ He probably could have handled it, but having Jill beside him was always helpful, regardless of the situation. ]
I've never seen him like this before...
Edited (oops wanted to add that) 2023-09-13 20:33 (UTC)
[Once Cid is settled as much as they can possible get him, Jill steps out of the washroom and waits for Clive just steps away. As soon as he's out as well, she puts the back of her fingers to Clive's chin, gently lifting his face and turning his cheek towards the moonlight streaming along the windows so she can get a closer look at the bruise. Still just as nasty looking, if not more so now that a few minutes have passed, still just as much as mystery to Jill as to where it came from.]
Clive, what happened here?
[One might say she's being too soft with a man whose face is already badly scarred, a man who has had much worse injuries than this, but still. This is a face Jill enjoys looking at quite often. Forgive her for worrying about it and the person it's attached to.]
[While the only functioning couple in this entire franchise is out there being sweet, the one in probably the most dysfunctional relationship is just sitting in the tub, arms resting listlessly at his sides. Although the water had roused him, he really doesn't do more than just lift his head slightly before it drops back down.
He doesn't want to be roused. Because if he does, that will make him have to think and right now his thoughts keep spiraling back to his time back in Waleod. From all the way back to the beginning, to when he first Benedikta, to the years after and the rough years leading up to his departure. And whenever it gets to there his thoughts sink darker and darker. Happier, blissful memories become tainted and twisted as he has to keep doubting and suspecting. And then it all merges to the events of last night, of whatever little frayed thread of foolish hope he had snapped.
Or at least, he wishes it would snap. Any sane person would have left everything then. No, any sane person would have cut everything six years ago, perhaps even sooner. When things really started going downhill first. Or he shouldn't have given in to begin with. But no, for some god forsaken reason he couldn't completely let her go. And given what he saw last night, neither did she, so what is he supposed to think? What is he supposed to think and feel when she keeps those little reminders, saying one thing and meaning another? Or is she really meaning what she said? So then why the fuck would she—
There will be a loudBANG and swearing from the bathroom, and when the two look they will find Cid frantically digging around his pockets, half leaning, half crouching and hanging over the tub as he tries to pull out something from his now drenched side belt satchel.]
[ The small yet sudden gesture of his chin moving by Jill's fingertips has him grimacing under the moonlight. She was right, he's had worse injuries than this, but addressing publicly was never one of his fortes. It feels almost pathetic in a way to admit, but after letting her examine the side of his face for a moment, he finally addresses it with a sigh. ]
It was Cid. He refused to leave the pub right away, and so he—
[ and there there was the bang.
Immediately alerted, Clive will turn his face fully to Jill, features washed with a brief moment of panic, before tearing away to walk back into the washroom.
He stands by the doorway, peering in to watch as Cid fumbles around for something in the tub. ]
[He can grimace and sigh all he wants, but Jill is still insistent on checking him over. When will the men in her life let her care for them as much as they have cared for her? It only comes natural to her and much like a disapproving mother, she gives a little sound that she doesn't like the look of this bruise.
And then Clive begins to explain. So she doesn't like the look or the reason behind the bruise. It, in fact, might just be a little worse than the situations she had imagined up. At least Jill would have expected either Benedikta or Barnabas to have hit Clive, but Cid? They're going to have a little chat as soon as he wakes up.
Or not. Because that bang and the loud curse startless Jill out of her reverie and she's staring back at Clive with the same panicked expression, only to follow right behind him to the doorway, standing on her tiptoes to try and see what's happening beyond Clive's burly frame.]
[Just more incoherent swearing as Cid continues to scramble in the tub looking as if he might fall out of it with how erratic he moves, until at last his hand jerks up, his shellphone briefly appearing, a flash of something small but indiscernible dangling from it before he's falling back, fingers quickly tapping on it.]
Shit—work—c'mon!
[There's desperate anger and frustration as wet leather smacks the screen before he has to drunkenly pull the glove off with his teeth, spitting it out before he tries again. Now with proper contact, the screen lights up, and after seeing no damage had been done despite getting wet, he slumps forward in relief, clutching the device close to his chest.
Of course, there wasn't much risk to begin with. Given the environment, the shellphones are built to withstand water, so even if it had fallen into a tub full it would have been fine. Not only that, the worn, leather case had protected it from the superficial splash. But Cid's mind is too addled to remember and realize all that—and too addled to think properly as he now glares at Clive, voice raising into a loud, slurred shout.]
You...you mad!?!?
[No, the only one here who is "mad" in every sense of the word is him, but good luck with that.]
[ The look of panic washes away as quickly as it came the more Clive would watch the man scramble around the tub. It doesn't dawn on him until the shellphone is produced to exactly what Cid was yelling about, and soon what facial features were mixed with confusion were now being replaced with anger.
Oh. Oh he was mad, alright.
Clive could feel a flame burning brighter than the bruise in the pit of his stomach when the man yells at him. He angerly throws the door open a bit more when he charges fully inside the washroom now. Eyes glaring daggers and hands balled tightly into a fist. ]
I'm mad!? I find you half dead looking like a morbol chewed and spit you out, and you're calling me mad!?
[ He was so worried about you and this is what you're going to get mad over? ]
Apologies if I was more concerned about you than that! [ Should he be arguing with a less than sober man? Probably not. Will he? Absolutely. ] Fuck, Cid!
[What her eyes are unable to see, Jill's ears surely make certain that she catches every word, foul and unfoul. Tempers are flaring and while she knows much better than to get between an angry drunk and an angry sober man, she does just that, slipping in the midst of the two and instantly becoming a referee. Or a target, who knows as of yet.
Her arms are outstretched to either side of her as she makes her stand between them, a position more symbolic than something actually capable of physically holding back two grown men.]
[The neighbors of rough and tumble Nogard are probably far more used to yelling being part of their nightly sounds than anything else, but Jill is still going to give calming these two down a try for her own nerves because with the way Torgal is growling, there's angry hound barking soon ahead.]
[He was ready to yell right back, but Jill getting between them does stop him from doing so. His hand still tight around the phone, Cid starts trying to stand.]
That...won't be a problem—once I—!
[Well, if he could stand. He's using his other hand to brace against the tub to push himself up, but of course with it being wet and him having barely any balance, he ends up staggering and falling out of the tub with a very disgraceful crash.]
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Keeping a tight grip on his shoulder Clive pulls him back enough so that Cid is in a semi-upright state. Enough so that the younger man can peer at his face. ]
You've had enough.
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Says you.
[And as if acting in defiance, he just glares at Clive before swinging the hand holding the bottle and starts chugging it down, trickles of the drink dribbling down the corner of his mouth because he's not really caring.]
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He's reaching for the bottle with his free hand and tearing it from Cid's, banging the bottle against the table with a loud slam. ]
I said... that's enough. We need to get you sobered up.
[ The hand on his shoulder slips to the man's side, attempting to pull him up from and off of the bench. No one even seemed remotely interested in what was happening. Just what kind of place did he find himself in?
He would have lots of questions later, but for now... ]
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And I...said...
[He jerks wildly to the side.]
FUCK OFF!
[It's a wild swing, but a strong one as Cid swings his arm, the empty hand now in a tight fist as he aims right at Clive's face.]
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Torgal will begin to bark with his tail raised in alarm, but Clive won't attempt to retaliate. Not yet.
Instead he'll spit out the bit of blood that formed in his mouth and continue to pry Cid out of the chair, keeping his firm grip. ]
Not until I know what happened.
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After that one swing, all the energy and whatever "spirit" seems to have left him, Cid just stumbling as he struggles before he seems to resign.]
Fucking brat...
[Another slurred swear before Clive now has to deal with the dead weight named Cidolfus Telamon as the older man just slumps over.]
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Let's go Torgal. [ Clive remarks as the hound began to calm back down. He could feel his cheek already beginning to swell but ignores it in lieu of repositioning the older man to throw his shoulder around Clive's neck.
Having only just recently made landfall the area was still too unfamiliar to know of any infirmary, as if this place would even have something like that... so back to his place, then. Cid was going to owe him for this. ]
Can you walk? [ Not exactly expecting a response Clive will press on through the pub and out, shouldering most of the man's weight against his body. It'll take much longer to get to where he's going this way, but maybe the fresh air will help. ]
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...
But after a few stumbling no effort steps, Cid will start moving one foot after the other, leaning heavily against Clive.
........
Although Clive may want to let him go after a few feet because he's about to retch and vomit out to the side.]
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He won't say anything. Simply pull off to the side when he hears that oh so familiar sound and and shaking of the older man's body. He'll allow him to relieve himself and cursing inwardly that he didn't at least give the man a water... but considering his state he might not even be able to keep that down-
Torgal looks on with a concerned whimper, but Clive pets the top of his head to assure him otherwise. With one hand on the wolf and the other soothing Cid's back, he certainly had his hands full...
But it was back to hoisting Cid's arm over his shoulder when he was done, likely stopping a few more times before finally arriving to the foot of the apartments.
Now to fucking walk up these stairs... ]
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So her eyes are searching the streets for a familiar face to avoid as she quickly steps along the path, only to come across two other faces she knows all too well. Three if you count the snout of the furry companion that trails alongside them.
They both seem in bad shape, making any thoughts about caught be outright forgotten and replaced by absolute worry. The moon is shining just enough for her to take in the bruise darkening Clive's cheek and the slumped over form of Cid. Something happened here, but what exactly?]
Clive, what happened to your face?! [There will be no apologies for her concern having a priority system. That's just how it works.] What happened to him?
[This looks like the side effects of a fight and knowing Barnabas and Benedikta are here, Jill can only imagine the worst has happened tonight.]
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He looks happy to see her, relieved even more so, and his gaze will linger to her before returning to Cid's. ]
I'll explain when I can get him indoors. [ He responds in an almost apologetic tone. Cid overtime was walking less and less, making Clive carry the full weight of his barely conscious form. ]
Could you get the door?
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As they go along ahead of her, she looks down at Torgal, hoping to maybe get some sort of explanation from him, but all the hound gives her is a whimper and a soft bump to her hand with his nose. Not much to work with, so she'll just remain in distress until actual words come out and make sense of this scene before her.]
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Eventually the groaning from his unwilling passenger will increase with each bump of the stairwell. The process was clearly uncomfortable for both, but eventually the four will arrive in front of Clive's door. ]
We need to get him into a bath. [ The man begins, trying to support Cid with his body while attempting to use a free hand to reach for the handle. ] I found him drunk in a shithole of a pub. Looked like he'd been there for hours.
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What's also a mystery is why Clive is suddenly making a wild suggestion that has Jill looking at Clive, shifting her eyes to the mess that is Cid, and returning to Clive, only to say in no uncertain terms:]
I'm not bathing him.
[She barely survived Clive's bathtime adventure and now he's talking about washing up Cid? No. Absolutely not. As much as she cares about Cid, some boundaries cannot be crossed.]
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He will eventually begin clarify when he drags the man over to the washroom, and with a stern grunt continues: ] I mean to have him lie there until he sobers enough to speak.
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[As long as they both agree Cid is on his own for baths, Jill can concentrate on closing the door behind them once Clive gets both of them into the apartment. For the moment, there's not much she can do except follow them and help rearrange the man into a position that seems decent enough for a drunk when the time comes.
Whatever Cid imbibed on had to be bad. This isn't the look of just ale.]
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Once Cid is fully positioned in the tub, Clive will grab a bucket of water (cold- but not that cold) and dump it into the tub along with the man. Half to wash away whatever remnants remaining on the man's clothes, and half to try to bring him to his senses.
He'll leave the washroom door ajar when he steps out, a clear and evident frown across his face. ]
Thank you for your help. [ He probably could have handled it, but having Jill beside him was always helpful, regardless of the situation. ]
I've never seen him like this before...
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Clive, what happened here?
[One might say she's being too soft with a man whose face is already badly scarred, a man who has had much worse injuries than this, but still. This is a face Jill enjoys looking at quite often. Forgive her for worrying about it and the person it's attached to.]
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He doesn't want to be roused. Because if he does, that will make him have to think and right now his thoughts keep spiraling back to his time back in Waleod. From all the way back to the beginning, to when he first Benedikta, to the years after and the rough years leading up to his departure. And whenever it gets to there his thoughts sink darker and darker. Happier, blissful memories become tainted and twisted as he has to keep doubting and suspecting. And then it all merges to the events of last night, of whatever little frayed thread of foolish hope he had snapped.
Or at least, he wishes it would snap. Any sane person would have left everything then. No, any sane person would have cut everything six years ago, perhaps even sooner. When things really started going downhill first. Or he shouldn't have given in to begin with. But no, for some god forsaken reason he couldn't completely let her go. And given what he saw last night, neither did she, so what is he supposed to think? What is he supposed to think and feel when she keeps those little reminders, saying one thing and meaning another? Or is she really meaning what she said? So then why the fuck would she—
There will be a loud BANG and swearing from the bathroom, and when the two look they will find Cid frantically digging around his pockets, half leaning, half crouching and hanging over the tub as he tries to pull out something from his now drenched side belt satchel.]
Fuck—FUCK!
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It was Cid. He refused to leave the pub right away, and so he—
[ and there there was the bang.
Immediately alerted, Clive will turn his face fully to Jill, features washed with a brief moment of panic, before tearing away to walk back into the washroom.
He stands by the doorway, peering in to watch as Cid fumbles around for something in the tub. ]
What's going on!?
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like the look of this bruise.
And then Clive begins to explain. So she doesn't like the look or the reason behind the bruise. It, in fact, might just be a little worse than the situations she had imagined up. At least Jill would have expected either Benedikta or Barnabas to have hit Clive, but Cid? They're going to have a little chat as soon as he wakes up.
Or not. Because that bang and the loud curse startless Jill out of her reverie and she's staring back at Clive with the same panicked expression, only to follow right behind him to the doorway, standing on her tiptoes to try and see what's happening beyond Clive's burly frame.]
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Shit—work—c'mon!
[There's desperate anger and frustration as wet leather smacks the screen before he has to drunkenly pull the glove off with his teeth, spitting it out before he tries again. Now with proper contact, the screen lights up, and after seeing no damage had been done despite getting wet, he slumps forward in relief, clutching the device close to his chest.
Of course, there wasn't much risk to begin with. Given the environment, the shellphones are built to withstand water, so even if it had fallen into a tub full it would have been fine. Not only that, the worn, leather case had protected it from the superficial splash. But Cid's mind is too addled to remember and realize all that—and too addled to think properly as he now glares at Clive, voice raising into a loud, slurred shout.]
You...you mad!?!?
[No, the only one here who is "mad" in every sense of the word is him, but good luck with that.]
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Oh. Oh he was mad, alright.
Clive could feel a flame burning brighter than the bruise in the pit of his stomach when the man yells at him. He angerly throws the door open a bit more when he charges fully inside the washroom now. Eyes glaring daggers and hands balled tightly into a fist. ]
I'm mad!? I find you half dead looking like a morbol chewed and spit you out, and you're calling me mad!?
[ He was so worried about you and this is what you're going to get mad over? ]
Apologies if I was more concerned about you than that! [ Should he be arguing with a less than sober man? Probably not. Will he? Absolutely. ] Fuck, Cid!
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Her arms are outstretched to either side of her as she makes her stand between them, a position more symbolic than something actually capable of physically holding back two grown men.]
Clive... Cid... it's late. Let's lower our voices.
[The neighbors of rough and tumble Nogard are probably far more used to yelling being part of their nightly sounds than anything else, but Jill is still going to give calming these two down a try for her own nerves because with the way Torgal is growling, there's angry hound barking soon ahead.]
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That...won't be a problem—once I—!
[Well, if he could stand. He's using his other hand to brace against the tub to push himself up, but of course with it being wet and him having barely any balance, he ends up staggering and falling out of the tub with a very disgraceful crash.]
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