[She lingers beside him, arms still wrapped about his shoulders, and as Rip begins the mournful trek down that sweet high of inebriation, it becomes clearer to him that Peggy's at long last caught up. The revelation at least aids his wounded ego, particularly since she doesn't see fit to offer up a straight answer. Rather, there's a quote, and it takes Rip a moment to shift it merely from the realm of the familiar to that of the recognized.
She'll doubtless know it when he does; Rip groans out a low bloody hell, and drops his head into his hands when the words of the porter echo in his mind. Provokes and unprovokes indeed, as the very alcohol that led to Rip's willingness to indulge has prevented him, them from the ultimate act of it.
And here he'd thought he'd have to wait until at least sunrise for those regrets to set in.]
Well. There's no helping it now. [Rip leans forward, quickly though, just long enough to grab the rum before leaning back into Peggy's embrace. He'll finish off the rest of the bottle before tossing the empty vessel onto Peggy's chair. There's nothing to spill, and better it land against a cushion than clatter to the floor as it's partner had earlier.
But he only needs one hand to do so; the other finds it way around Peggy's waist. Explanation found, and with it, some of Rip's tension eases. He even manages to look at her again, to huff out a sigh before offering up a diagnosis of his own.]
no subject
She'll doubtless know it when he does; Rip groans out a low bloody hell, and drops his head into his hands when the words of the porter echo in his mind. Provokes and unprovokes indeed, as the very alcohol that led to Rip's willingness to indulge has prevented him, them from the ultimate act of it.
And here he'd thought he'd have to wait until at least sunrise for those regrets to set in.]
Well. There's no helping it now. [Rip leans forward, quickly though, just long enough to grab the rum before leaning back into Peggy's embrace. He'll finish off the rest of the bottle before tossing the empty vessel onto Peggy's chair. There's nothing to spill, and better it land against a cushion than clatter to the floor as it's partner had earlier.
But he only needs one hand to do so; the other finds it way around Peggy's waist. Explanation found, and with it, some of Rip's tension eases. He even manages to look at her again, to huff out a sigh before offering up a diagnosis of his own.]
We're both rather hopeless tonight, aren't we?