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 Almost everything that could be faded, scratched or dingy was, and the badly outdated St. Patrick's Day posters curled off the walls at their edges.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

[dwarvenswagger]

"We know our creator exists," Thorin replied, rolling his eyes. "He is our father and teacher, not the subject of worship. You respect and honor your father, not--"

He waved his hand vaguely, taking a sip of the margarita.

"...it's sour."

[not_every_mage]

"It tastes sweeter when the ice melts some," Anders told him. "And -- dunno. Maybe we just like making things fancier."

[doesnotkneel]

"What would you worship, other than the one who made everything?" Edward wondered.

He was fairly relaxed on the subject. Wasn't like he was especially devout or anything. But this far into the drink made him all philosophical, for his standards.

[dwarvenswagger]

It better, Anders. And it would end with the worst hangover.

"Why must we worship anything?"

The food was way better now that Thorin had a few drinks.

[not_every_mage]

"I don't know if we have to, but just about everyone does," Anders mused, words thickening with drink. "Humans have the maker, elves have their gods, dwarves at home have ancestors and the stone. Even the Qunari have some philosopher they're mad for. It's in- in- instinctual. For us anyway."

And then he claimed a chicken wing to top off that spurt of philosophy.

[doesnotkneel]

"You've got to keep the old man happy, right?"

Edward sipped his drink. It was very sugary, but at this point of the night he didn't much mind. "Otherwise it's all plagues and ill fortune."

[dwarvenswagger]

"Your makers are very strange," Thorin replied. He was rather enjoying everything that was deep fried. This was a thing he needed to bring back home.

[not_every_mage]

"They had to match their creations," Anders said flippantly. At least he didn't worship rocks, all right?

He tilted his head to the side, seeming to listen for something. Then: "... the music stopped."

[doesnotkneel]

Edward shrugged. "Bit less thumping in the background, aye," he said, sipping his drink again. "You know, I think I prefer the rum cheese."

[dwarvenswagger]

"And you're welcome to it," Thorin replied magnanimously. "Barkeep, we require more music!"

Yeah, that was the bartender giving them the bird. This was the best place ever.

[not_every_mage]

Anders stared at the bartender uncertainly. "I think he doesn't think it's his job,"he half-whispered. "I'll go."

And then he sld off his stool -- whoops! and toddled over to the jukebox to puzzle over its many lights and buttons.

[doesnotkneel]

Edward watched Anders go for the first few moments or so, and burst into giggles.

"Bet he'll tip over," he whispered to Thorin.

Though his volume control was starting to slip.

[dwarvenswagger]

Thorin had to take a deep breath to look like he was taking this bet very seriously. "How much?"

[doesnotkneel]

Edward leaned over conspiratorially. "I could volunteer an amount of coin," he said, "But that seems like it sits well outside the spirit of this wager."

[dwarvenswagger]

"And what is the spirit?"

[doesnotkneel]

"Anders is going to fall over at any moment," Edward announced, even if he didn't actually know that with any level of certainty. "I say whoever loses this bet must do something equally ridiculous."

As being Anders while falling over.

[dwarvenswagger]

Rude. But accurate.

"And what is as ridiculous as a man falling over?" Thorin asked, rolling his eyes. "Other than another man falling over."

[doesnotkneel]

"Excellent suggestion," Edward said cheerfully. "Whoever loses the bet has to go lay down on the floor next to him."

Even if he hadn't fallen over. Logic.

[dwarvenswagger]

"Anders!" Thorin called. "Your friend wishes to lay on the floor with you."

Because Thorin here was a dwarf and not a man. Booyah.

[not_every_mage]

"I'm not lying on the floor!" Anders shouted back, and then waved his hands in the air over his head. He'd found "Dancing Queen" on the jukebox, which necessitated ... well. Dancing. Even someone who wasn't from this world knew that.

He twirled, hit a wet spot,and landed on his ass.

"Ow," he said, thoughtfully.

He didn't seem terribly inclined to stand up.

[doesnotkneel]

"Do your people even know what wagers ar--"

The words didn't make it all the way out of Edward's mouth.

"Ha! You go lay down with him, Thorin!"

[dwarvenswagger]

"Not a man, a dwarf," Thorin shot back, looking smug.

[doesnotkneel]

Edward eyed him. "Who said anything about men or dwarves?" he said. "I just said the loser of the bet had to lay down with him. And aye, I do believe you've lost."

[not_every_mage]

"Dwarves are still men," Anders offered. It was easier to participate in these conversations from the floor when all of their volume controls were broken. Not that he was sure what they were arguing about, but that seldom stopped him. "They aren't human, but they're men. 'sa gen- gen- general term."

[dwarvenswagger]

"We are not. Just as elves are not men. Nor are hobbins--halflings." Because that's what they needed. Drunk arguing of a bet while Anders was still on the floor.