* [semi-closed post]

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan is still struggling, but she's established a little routine, specific to Dark: every morning, she goes to her favorite room - the one with all the rugs - and retrieves several bottles of alcohol. These, she ferries down to the cafe and arranges them on a corner table, where she sits for the next hour or so, passing bottles to anyone who needs a full one, and measures from the bottles to anyone who would prefer just a drink or two. By now, she's got a sense of the regulars, their preferences (though she cannot always accommodate these - it really is the queerest assortment of libations), and how much they require, but she always brings an extra bottle or two just in case.

Today, she's tireder than normal, and moving slowly. Her tea was running low, and so she's rationing it. She's even on the verge of capitulating and getting a cup of coffee to tide herself over.


[Primarily intended for Dionysus and Lan Wangji, but if anyone wants to play out the awkwardness of the daily alcohol retrieval I'm all in!]

Comments

[vineleaves]

Dionysus has been aware that Susan was in charge of the alcohol rations ever since he got the flier at the beginning of Dark. He has been making a few small bottles of alcohol every day to go with his 'groceries', the grapes and jelly and raisins and juice and whatever else he's decided to call forth in the morning, but he has sort of just been placing them haphazardly around. It isn't that he has been purposefully avoiding her; not running into her has just been a side effect of their differing schedules, he supposes. Their first meeting did not go as well as he would have liked, so on some level he's okay with not running into her.

Today though it seems like the universe has other plans. Maybe he woke up a little earlier than usual, maybe he's getting faster at creating the daily supplies, maybe it's something else entirely, but he enters the cafe and is face to face with Susan.

"Good morning!" he says cheerful enough, though unsure if it's even still morning or not.

[lightbearinglord]

As a general rule, Lan Wangji avoids the café unless he has a prearranged meeting for discussion of Jane Austen, but he, too, is running low on tea and wondering if he might find any there. He is restless on the whole in a way that is unusual for him. There are too many things weighing on his mind, nebulous mysteries and dangers.

He sees Susan and stops. They have barely spoken, but he knows what she is doing for the residents who drink alcohol regularly and, unlike Wei Ying, are not so fortunate as to have golden cores to carry them through the month. He arranges himself into a polite bow.

[onthewillowsthere]

Galahad hasn't actually made the connection between Claudius' irritability, his tremors and headaches, and the lack of alcohol -- he doesn't have the information for that. But he knows how much Claudius likes to drink a glass of wine with dinner, or share cocktails with his friends; he's listened to Claudius talk with extraordinary fondness about choosing the contents of the liquor cabinet for Crowley, and wax rhapsodic about the wine Dionysus conjured for him.

Galahad is still feeling empty in the wake of Easter, but it's easier to pay attention to the world around him now. He remembers the flyer that was slipped under their door a week or two ago.

He shows up to Susan's table in the café -- appearing, as he often does, a little like a ghost manifesting, albeit a ghost is corduroy overalls embroidered with flowers.

[timebethine]

Laertes comes to the café near the end of Susan's vigil. He takes a moment to compose himself before stepping inside--Susan is intense, intimidating, but she has never been unkind. She's agreed to take responsibility for the alcohol, because those who needed it believed that she would handle distribution equitably; she hasn't seized this role out of a desire for power. She's fair, and good. Lancelot loves her.

It isn't her fault that she reminds Laertes of his father.

He puts on a bright smile, then strides over to where she sits. "Hallo, Susan," he calls. "How dost thou?"