John's indignation over the implicit assertion that he's not up for shots is the second time in very short order that he's made Martin want to laugh, though this time he restrains himself. If he were feeling less exhausted by his ordeal of the day, he might be inclined to attempt a voice of reason, but he's all out of that. Not with John smiling like that.
By the time John is gesticulating drunkenly, Martin is nearly finished with his mess of noodles and quite drunk himself. He probably hasn't been this drunk since... well, at least three years ago, probably one of those early holiday parties before everything went so wrong. Tim egging him on. Nothing of his own accord, nothing like this.
Martin can barely follow what John is saying, and not just because it seems to come from nowhere. His eyes track John's hand as it lazily draws the chopsticks about, making out like a very lackadaisical conductor. It takes him a few seconds to snap out of it, refocus on John and what he's saying.
"Really," he says with a loose smile. Seems so unbelievable, that Darrow has its own weird Magnus, but really, nothing ought to surprise him. He watches John enjoy a bit of sashimi and props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand.
"Hadn't thought about what to call it," he says. "Could call it Magnus, and Mr. Weird Eyes would just have to deal. That'd teach him." Teach him what, and why, he doesn't know. Easier to just babble unexamined. "Although-" He pauses to scoop up a bit more of his stir fry, chewing thoughtfully before he continues: "Dunno if we want to associate directly with the Eye anyway. S'all a bit underhanded, innit? I mean does the Eye benefit from this, or..."
He waves it off before John can answer. "Actually. I don't think I care. S'long as it works for you." He studies the middle distance, squinting in consideration. "S'pose it were like... The Jonathan Sims Home for Weird Stories. Right on the tin. Sounds like a children's book." He snorts, then notices John has refilled his glass from their dwindling supply. When did that happen? He takes another drink.
no subject
By the time John is gesticulating drunkenly, Martin is nearly finished with his mess of noodles and quite drunk himself. He probably hasn't been this drunk since... well, at least three years ago, probably one of those early holiday parties before everything went so wrong. Tim egging him on. Nothing of his own accord, nothing like this.
Martin can barely follow what John is saying, and not just because it seems to come from nowhere. His eyes track John's hand as it lazily draws the chopsticks about, making out like a very lackadaisical conductor. It takes him a few seconds to snap out of it, refocus on John and what he's saying.
"Really," he says with a loose smile. Seems so unbelievable, that Darrow has its own weird Magnus, but really, nothing ought to surprise him. He watches John enjoy a bit of sashimi and props his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand.
"Hadn't thought about what to call it," he says. "Could call it Magnus, and Mr. Weird Eyes would just have to deal. That'd teach him." Teach him what, and why, he doesn't know. Easier to just babble unexamined. "Although-" He pauses to scoop up a bit more of his stir fry, chewing thoughtfully before he continues: "Dunno if we want to associate directly with the Eye anyway. S'all a bit underhanded, innit? I mean does the Eye benefit from this, or..."
He waves it off before John can answer. "Actually. I don't think I care. S'long as it works for you." He studies the middle distance, squinting in consideration. "S'pose it were like... The Jonathan Sims Home for Weird Stories. Right on the tin. Sounds like a children's book." He snorts, then notices John has refilled his glass from their dwindling supply. When did that happen? He takes another drink.