The Start of a Beautiful Co-Dependence

Jack grinned, saying, "Of course. I told you. I was in fourth year when I played this. I wasn't quite an alcoholic by then. Same thing, it was just whoever lost had to buy everyone's Hogsmeade candy. We were innocent." Jack smirked at him. Had he really expected her to be drinking hard liquor by the time she was fourteen- then again, she would not doubt he had, so of course he would expect the same to be of her. It was ironic, because in fourth year Jack had absolutely hated alcoholics. Of course, she was not one. She was just known to hold her liquor well.

She was curious to see how much he would drink, as she would use that as the standard when it was inevitably her turn to pay the price and drink. He almost looked too doubtful to drink, at first. Still, he raised the bottle to his lips and drank. And drank. And drank. Jack was pretty sure he had forgotten the reason he was there. She cleared her throat. "Whoa, Nellie. Time to relax, Mr. Poe. Don't want me to win that easily, do you? It's your turn."

He was visibly awakened from his stupor by Jack's insistent that he cease in his attempt to take home the world record of most vodka consumed in under a minute, and he withdrew from his mouth the bottle with the pop! of a cork being shot. 'Dazed' was the only word with which one might have described the look in his eyes as he returned the alcohol to its rightful place on the bar. "Wha?" He muttered halfheartedly, and swiveled atop his stool.

"My turn? F-ck yeah," Nemo thought aloud. He brought his hand to his face absently, and with his fingernails he dug into the scruff that peppered his jaw, fighting the resistance of small prickles of hair as he pondered over his answer. "Oh! I've got one." His LED light eyes lit with excitement, "Never have I ever worn my Ministry uniform." He paused for a moment, as though weighing the pros and cons of continuing with his statement, before he landed on a decision which elicited from him a smirk and lazy shrug of his shoulders, "On the job, that is."

He and inappropriate innuendos were the best of pals.

Finally, her drinking companion pulled away from the bottle he seemed intent on polishing off in one go, and the two separated with a noise like a suction cup being pulled off of smooth glass. She smirked at the amusing expression on the man's face as he tried to gather his bearings. The bartender was still eyeing them as though he was nervous as to what they were up to.

As he should be.

Mortimer finally got it through his head that it was his turn and he scratched his scruffy chin in thought. The bristles on his chin reminded her of the wiry coat of a terrier, so she said, "Come on, Benji. Haven't got all night, now have we?" She smirked and ate another fry, brushing salt from her hands and then sweeping the fallen grains onto the ground.

At his choice, she felt her eyebrows meet. "Damn." She wore hers often because they had fireproof clothes for dealing with the dragons, as well as specialized outfits for wearing in the animal exhibits. He continued on and she closed her eyes. "Oh, thank you for that mental image- AH! No mental image, please!" She reached forward and grabbed her drink, tossing her head back and taking a deep drink.

When she sat the glass down, her eyes twitched and she shook her head. "Hmmm... Never have I ever... paid to go to the movies." She grinned- she had been proud to admit that she had always managed to sneak into the movies without payment.

"Whatchu talkin' 'bout, McDonald? That mental image was a gift," He snorted, fidgeting with laughter as he attempted without success to snuff out the oncoming fit.

Calling to mind the terms of the game he was taking part in, Nemo cast his extended digits a downward glance, and animated each like writhing worms that had sprouted from his knuckles as he took note of those which he hadn't yet been forced to curl against his palm. "N-ine," he sung.

"Aho!" Nemo cheered and half-chuckled simultaneously as he returned his attention to his drinking opponent. "Gotcha there. I've never been to an honest-to-alcohol movie theater. I get them all on the player," Nemo boasted with a shimmy of his eyebrows that accentuated his pride in having won this round.

He threw his left arm forward to teasingly slap Jack's shoulder, "Go on. Drink up. The rules!"

They were both at nine, which Jack saw as interesting- she was managing to keep up with an alcoholic, suicidal Seer. That could not mean good things for her. With a smirk she ate another fry, finding that she was actually enjoying the time she had feared might end up like a form of babysitting- but instead of warm milk it was vodka, and instead of hiding the cookies it was hiding sharp objects.

She had thought that her pick would trip him up for sure, but she had underestimated him she supposed. "Ah, poo!" she said, reaching forward and grabbing her drink. She drank more deeply this time, so when she pulled her lips away, her throat and eyes burned and she had to swallow and blink a few times. She shook her head. She had not planned on actually getting drunk tonight.

Her plans were falling through.

She looked up at the man and said, "Alright, alright, alright. I drank. Now it's your turn again. I suppose!"

He needn’t pause to ponder over his retort as he had previously; as Jack had once more complied with the rules of the game and taken from her rum another swig, Nemo had concocted his next move.

“Never have I ever driven a car.”

Poised to jump at the opportunity to drain his own drink, Nemo curled in on himself, pinning one elbow against his denim-clad knee, and lying the other gently atop the bar beside the alcoholic beverage, so to require of him no more movement than the pop of his elbow upward to reunite his fingertips with his prize punishment. If not for his pride, surely he would have already begun in his deliberate attempt to lose, if only for the sake of nine more promised encounters with the vodka after which he so desperately lusted.

In an absentminded and instinctual gesture of his hand towards Jack’s plate, for such behavior ‘twas the very nature of his species: the roaches, Nemo swept a fry towards his mouth between his first and second fingers in the nature of a cigarette or a joint, and slid it between his lips with a satisfied swing of his legs as they danged from the stool on which he sat. “Eight to nine,” He noted giddily.

Jack had barely finished speaking when Nemo said another statement that doomed her to yet another drink towards failure- then again, there were bragging rights in losing such a game as this. Still, she felt a little worry creep up into her. She had been certain her companion would be flat out drunk before she had even gotten a buzz, but things were looking very contrary to that assumption. She was digging herself into a very deep hole indeed, but she was bound by duty to not put down the shovel.

She sighed and reached for her drink. "Have I mentioned that I am a high ranking Ministry official and I can have you-" she took another drink and then banged the glass down onto the bartop "arrested." She narrowed her eyes and mulled over a possible statement, realizing she really needed to even out the score soon. She did have work to do.

"Never have I ever had a job that I don't still have," she said, a little triumphant. She didn't know how old the man she was drinking with really was, but she figured he had to have had a job before the one he had now.

"Kinky," Nemo briefly acknowledged her threat, "You wouldn't happen to have any handcuffs, would you?" He purred tauntingly, before sliding a second fry off of her plate, onto the bar's splintering surface, and into his small square of territory. "I could imagine," He chortled as he ate the fry that he'd stolen, having truthfully painted the scenario of which he spoke along the film of his mind's eye, "You, buzzed, Head of the Pet Grooming Department with an auror in tow."

His laughter caught in his throat, however, as the realization that he would be required to take a drink of vodka dawned on him. "I worked as a psychic at the Casadaga Hotel in Florida as a kid," He recounted. His amusement was overthrown immediately by eagerness as he made a dart for the bottle, and he began once more to drink without pause.

Jack smacked her hand against her head. Oh boy, she was in the presence of another master of innuendos, was she now? Jack was not a prude- she had just been pretty socially sheltered seeing as she had never had real friends growing up. However, Adam at Wheezes was a horny little devil so she had grown exponentionally in the aspect of understanding these innuendos were harmless.

Usually. She never could tell with Adam really.

Her pal seemed to get a mental image of his own and as he described it Jack laughed. Her laugh turned into a victorious smile as he drank. Ah, the playing field may level just yet! She reached for a fry and as she was eating it, realized she had stopped counting. "Aw, shit. What was the count again? And it's your turn."

A flailed limb the only gesture with which Nemo intended to inform Jack that he intended to continue for a moment longer before reluctantly returning the bottle to its place on the bar, outlined by a small ring of the perspiration which had rolled from the cold bottle and met with wood. His hand lingered on the glass, despite the return of his gaze to The Savior and her french fries.

"Uhm," Nemo faltered in the face of Jack's inquiry. But after a brief pause to inwardly tally the score, Nemo's words melted into their usual fluency, his southern roots bleeding more heavily through his tone as he began to succumb to the soothing nature of the beginning of a buzz, "It's a tie. Eight to eight."

Having hooked his index finger around the fry basket's ridge, Nemo dragged the food towards himself quickly, so to avoid Jack and draw it close to his chest. "Never have I ever..." He plucked a handful of fries from the basket and gracelessly folded them into his mouth before finishing his sentence, mouth wide with the salty starch, "Owned any other pet than Weasel." He grinned triumphantly, potatoes skins clinging to the gums of his teeth, for he was fairly certain he'd tacked another finger off of Jack.