Pog Mahone's Irish Pub, Baltimore, Saturday Afternoon

[not_every_mage]

This was still the tackiest Irish-themed pub in America, just as it had been for Anders' and Edward's first visit the fall before. Almost everything that could be faded, scratched or dingy was, and the badly outdated St. Patrick's Day posters curled off the walls at their edges. But the beers were cheap, the bartenders were lax about carding, and Anders knew from past experience that the nachos were thick with melted cheese and gloppy guacamole.

It was, in other words, the perfect place to introduce Thorin to earth culture.

"They added a new type of nachos!" Anders exclaimed with some delight, as he squinted at the menu. "Irish. With ... potato slices, cheese and bacon. We have to try those, don't we?"

[OOC: For those named. NFB due to distance.]

Comments

[not_every_mage]

"Don't hold back," Anders muttered, impressed. "And a margarita, please. No, make it three."

Nachos obviously called for margaritas, didn't they? And let's not ponder too hard how Anders new what a margarita was.

[doesnotkneel]

"I'm not paying for all of this," Edward warned, with a laugh.

He got back to sipping his rum.

[dwarvenswagger]

"I would not ask you to." This is what happens when you go partying with the prince of Erebor, bitches.

And he supposed he ought to drink the rum that had been provided to him. So kindly.

"Though if you feel unfit to continue, we would not hold it against you."

[doesnotkneel]

"Oh," Edward said, his eyes flashing, "I am perfectly fine to continue, mate."

[dwarvenswagger]

Thorin lifted his glass of rum to that. "We will see, won't we?"

[not_every_mage]

This seemed like a contest Anders was reasonably content to lose. He sipped at his rum and turned to Edward.

"So," he said, "how's it going with Cosette?"

[doesnotkneel]

Edward grinned at Anders. It went a few watts above the usual. "I believe it's going passably well," he said, sipping his drink. "Considering she still seems to be fond of my company."

[dwarvenswagger]

And Thorin was just going to keep drinking his rum because he was once again lost on the topic of conversation. But the rum certainly helped with that.

At this rate, there would be singing and throwing of food around.

[not_every_mage]

"I hope she keeps being fooled," Anders said, half sincere. "She's lovely, mate."

To Thorin, he added, helpfully, "Blonde girl. Very pretty. Seems clever, too."

[doesnotkneel]

"Very clever," Edward agreed, with a slight chuckle, "And with an adventurer's heart. She's lovely indeed. Don't know why she's putting up with me, but I won't question it."

[dwarvenswagger]

Hey, that was context that Thorin totally understood!

"Oh, you're courting," Thorin replied. Which made sense, he supposed. Considering how short their lives were.

They needed to get married early.

[not_every_mage]

That seemed like something for Edward to field, so Anders busied himself cleaning the last bits of bacon and cheese off the plate of nachos, then washed it down with a swig of whichever glass was closest. They were amassing quite a collection, and it was all starting to taste the same.

[doesnotkneel]

"I don't know," Edward admitted. "Can't see myself marrying anyone from 'round here, and she probably deserves that much. But we're having some fun as it is."

Anders, you were a lightweight.

[dwarvenswagger]

TSK. TSK, ANDERS.

Thorin's response was a little 'hmm'. Because that too was a trait of men that he'd forgotten, it would seem.

[not_every_mage]

"I don't see the point of getting married," Anders contributed. "Unless one of you has some title or property to pass down, I mean. But for normal people it just seems a lot of unnecessary fuss."

That was only ... 45 percent sour grapes. Apostates generally didn't want to spend enough time in Chantries to get married.

[dwarvenswagger]

"But if you were to find one that you could love and those feelings were returned, would you not wish to wed them?"

Look, he didn't have the best odds of this happening for him, okay? But the thought was sorta nice in a vague, distant way.

[not_every_mage]

"Maybe," Anders said, seeming to think it over. "If we wanted children, at least. Probably it's better for the brats if their parents have rings on their hands. But I think I could love someone my whole life just fine without telling the Chantry or the state about it."

[dwarvenswagger]

"What business would it be of theirs?" Thorin asked. "Would they desire your spouse?"

In which case, you kick the shit out of them. Possibly with your partner's help. Dwarves were jealous as hell, yo.

[not_every_mage]

"Probably, since I wouldn't marry somebody who wasn't desirable," Anders said, squinting at him. "How do your people marry? For us there's a whole religious ritual."

[dwarvenswagger]

"You find someone and hope that they might accept you," Thorin replied with a shrug. "Some never wed, dedicating themselves to their crafts. And unlike men, we do not stray from the one we love. Even should we be rejected."

Which was just awkward.

[not_every_mage]

"So wait, if you go up to someone and tell them you love them, and they don't agree, you're just supposed to ...moon over them forever?" Anders asked, eyebrows dancing up. "What if your love, loves you back, but then they die young?"

[dwarvenswagger]

Tolkien.

"You remain widowed." Them's the breaks. "Better than the elves. They'll apparently die of a broken heart."

How lame was that?

"This is why we do not even consider such things until we're in our 90's."

[not_every_mage]

"Your ... nineties." Anders blinked at him slowly. "So can I ask you something ridiculously personal, or would you break that tankard over my head if I do?"

[dwarvenswagger]

Thorin carefully put his nearly empty glass of rum down. "I will try to restrain myself."

[not_every_mage]

Anders took a long swig of his ... third or so, he thought, beer. "Right, so if you're supposed to have one true love, and you don't start looking for that love until you're 90, does that mean you have to go most of a century without sleeping with anyone?" he asked. "Don't your bits fall off from disuse?"

He got classy when he was tipsy. Though to be fair, he'd said worse stone sober.