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om_main2013-03-22 10:26 pm
om_britannic) wrote in om_main2013-03-22 10:26 pm
Shinobi, Betsy, and Brian, Backdated to March 22nd
After learning about Jeanne-Marie's split feelings, Brian turns to an expert in the best ways to forget. Luckily, they have a chaperone.
He still felt vaguely sick, and like he'd been hit by something hard in the chest. Somehow. Despite the fact he was purportedly invulnerable to harm now. Brian hated it, and had finally determined the best solution.
He finally reached his intended goal, and knocked upon the door. "Shinobi?"
Rather than answer directly, or even just open the door, Shinobi instead hopped from his bed--where he'd been reclining quite comfortably for the last little while, halfway to dozing--and poked his face directly through the door, Jacob Marley-style. His eyes widened immediately upon seeing this most unexpected guest.
"Brian!" he gushed, lunging through the inconvenient plank of wood to wrap his arms around the gigantic Brit's shoulders, at least a quarter of him remaining behind in the room as a result. Still, his grip on the manlier Braddock sibling was perfectly solid--an advantage of discretionary phasing! "This is an unexpected delight. Whatever can I do for you, Old Man?"
Brian had become quite distracted the moment the other boy had come through the bloody door. That should not be possible. He was a physics phenomenon. At some point he'd have to persuade the younger Shaw down to the lab.
"I'm going out. Need something to drink and some distraction. And quite honestly, Shinobi, you're the most distracting drinking partner I've ever met."
For a moment, the most vaguely perplexed of looks passed across Shinobi's face, but it was quickly replaced with an ecstatic grin. "My friend, you have come to absolutely the right place." He phased the rest of the way through the wall, in his button-down wine-colored shirt and ash-gray trousers. "Come, you can explain as much as you care to on our way to the garage. Though I warn you, we may have to secure alternative means back home. I'm a bad enough driver when I'm sober, you know."
"I've already called a car," Brian assured him dryly. He glanced down at his own clothing, slacks and a blue button-down shirt and supposed he was dressed well enough "Shall we, then? I'd rather avoid my sister finding out, and the chances of her doing so go greater with every moment we remain here."
Shinobi just grinned. "Just when I think you've finally given into spontaneity, you go and prove your inability not to plan every little thing out in advance for me again. Well. I'll wear you down yet, never fear." He stepped the last pace or so through the door and brushed himself off nonchalantly. "By all means, let us proceed! Though, I warn you, if this is something Betsy is going to come looking to eviscerate me for later, I will plead complete ignorance."
"I suspect I'm in greater danger of evisceration. And, on our way, you should tell me how, precisely, you just did that."
At that, Shinobi gave Brian a sideways, inquiring look. "Did what?" In the meanwhile, he took the stuffy (but nonetheless adorable) Braddock sibling by the arm and began leading him toward the foyer.
And that was exactly the Shinobi Shaw that Brian had come to expect, completely irreverent and determined to feign ignorance as to socially defined boundaries. "You walked through a door. I expect the unusual from you, but that was unusual even by those standards."
"Oh, that!" Shinobi replied, patting Brian on the arm. "Honestly, I'd have thought you would have heard of that already. That's my mutation, milord Braddock. Well, part of it, anyway. I can vary my molecular phase to pass through solid objects." He looked up at the lovely golden boy, batting his eyelashes outrageously. "I'm so pleased to have exceeded you expectations this once."
Brian snorted. "I'm sure that is an experience you've been waiting your entire life for."
He led the other teen outside, just in time for the black automobile to pull around in the driveway. Excellent timing or excellent service, it hardly mattered beyond something finally going Brian's way today. "You vary your molecular structure only to phase through objects, or can you adjust it in other ways as well?"
Magnanimously, Shinobi elected to ignore that initial bit of sarcasm. After all, Brian had always been ... well. Not the sort to consider himself better than him on the basis of pedigree alone, but he was a good, well-behaved boy, always doing exactly what he was expected to do. If he wished to perceive himself as possessing a sort of moral high-ground, Shinobi wasn't prepared to begrudge him that.
As he molded himself to the fit of the comfortable leather interior, Shaw said, "Oh, yes. Other ways as well. But I think we've reached the point in the conversation where you tell me what you can do." His tone was teasing, but gaze was surprisingly sharp.
"Physical enhancement," Brian answered, slipping into the car as well. "Strength, stamina, durability...a number of things, really."
Apparent Brian hadn't done as good of a job slinking away from his sister as he'd hoped. Before the car could pull away Betsy's voice popped into Brian's head. Brian? Are you okay?
He groaned audibly and let his head fall back against the well-upholstered seat. "We've been caught." Brian pushed himself back upright as he pulled his thoughts together. He'd have run a hand through his hair, but that would only ruin how it had been styled. "Give me a moment to placate my sister. Driver," he called through the divider. "Please hold a moment."
I am in need of distraction. It has been a trying day.
Shinobi had slouched into his seat quite obligingly, only to sit up as Brian apparently encountered interference of some kind. "Well," he said, "don't mind me. I'll just sit here like ballast until I'm acknowledged again." But in his mind, he was fairly bellowing, Hello? Hello out there? Konnichiwa? What's going on?
Betsy snorted delicately, now in both their minds. Where are you going? she asked. She could tell Brian was in some kind of turmoil and adding Shinobi to the mix did not bode well.
Out. I do not much care where. Brian explained.
Though he found the whole situation a bit perplexing, Shinobi was prepared to do his best to remain in the loop. From the backseat of the towncar, he offered, Uhm, bon jour? I'm not planning to sully your brother's virtue, or anything. Honest! But he seems to need the outing, and he's never ... ever asked me for anything before, so I can't say I object to obliging him.
Betsy hesitated before cutting Shinobi out of the mental loop. Something bad happen? It feels it. Do you want me to leave you boys alone?
I...I've had a difficult day. And you're never an inconvenience, but I do need to leave. Forget about this for a bit. If you wish to continue our discussion, you may come along, but you will have to hurry.
Of course, the sort of trouble they could get into - Shinobi and Betsy, that was - was something that also did not bear much thinking about. However...Betsy was his sister, and unlike perhaps some others in his life, was less likely to voluntarily leave him. And she knew him. She was something of a comfort, in those ways, though they'd lived apart enough that it had been quite awhile before she'd seen him intoxicated.
And Brian had every intention of becoming intoxicated.
Betsy decided quickly. She was close enough, she dashed off for the door. I'll be right there. Openly to the two of them again she added. Incoming chaperone. If you're both going to get pissed, it might be good to have someone with you that can make the locals forget they ever saw us. Or forget that your ID isn't the valid age in the states, Brian.
Once he'd realized he'd been cut out of the psychic loop, Shinobi had taken his petty revenge by singing 'MmmBop!' over and over in his head just as loud as he possibly could. But that was forgotten quickly enough when Betsy re-established telepathic contact. Oh, but that's no fun! What's the point of making spectacles of ourselves if there's no one to gossip about it later? Still, I suppose it wouldn't go amiss to have a representative of the fairer sex along. In my experience, girls improve everything.
Bet everyone thinks you're my sister, though.
A horrifying thought for many reasons, Brian determined. Right. Well, this evening was about to become far more of a spectacle, wasn't it?
Welcome to the family, Shinobi, Betsy thought dryly. She stepped outside and headed down to the car.
Mazel tov, contributed the newest Braddock. Though somehow I imagine this causing a violent immune response from the rest of the aristocracy. He drummed his fingers along the upholstery, eager to be off.
While they waited for Betsy's arrival, Brian reached for the mini-bar conveniently located in the back of the car. Again, finally something obliging, as opposed to the rather unobliging day he'd had all 'round. He pulled out a bottle of Belvedere - not his preferred drink, but it would do - and reached for a glass. Going out would be better, but that hardly meant he had to wait.
It didn't take long for Betsy to get to the car, and once inside she sprawled back, looking between the two of them. She didn't pass any judgement over Brian's drinking. It was probably for the best someone kept an eye on them.
"Okay, out you go. I guess we'll see how invulnerable your liver is now."
"Invulnerable liver seems like cheating," Shinobi protested, helping himself to another glass and holding it out imploringly to Brian. "Generally, I would applaud that kind of thing, but drinking is a very serious matter. Some breaches simply aren't cricket, old sport."
"If it means that drinking has lost its point, then the only one who has been cheated is me," Brian pointed out. He tipped a generous amount into his glass before filling Shinobi's. Turning to Betsy he gestured with the bottle. "Are you joining us?"
She waved him off. "Later. If I'm going to drink, I'll wait for something better. I haven't tested out my new metabolism either." She smiled at him.
Shinobi, quite unsurprisingly, didn't stand on propriety, tipping back his drink in one long swallow and giving a satisfied sigh as he finished. "I am choosing not to try to keep pace with you, milord Braddock, only because your organs are impervious, and I'm pretty sure alcohol poisoning will still kill me, eventually."
To his sister, he offered a sage nod as he lazily swirled the empty glass in the air. "Baby steps would be my advice, at least until you've tested how she handles. Much as I dislike being seen as the sort to stereotype, the Japanese don't always handle their liquor very well."
Brian's vodka was gone before Shinobi had even begun his recourse to Asian sterotypes, and the Brit poured himself another. If that burn in his stomach - had he not had supper? - was any sort of indication, his organs were not as impervious as the rest of him.
Which was actually quite useful, he supposed. At least given the circumstances. Brian offered the bottle to Shinobi. "Come now. You are supposed to be the debauched one here, are you not?"
Betsy nudged Brian's ankle. "Tell me when you've had enough drinks to explain why you need so many drinks." she turned a small smile Shinobi's way. "I am not carrying either of you home. Just a forewarning."
Shinobi accepted the refill with a little, discontented harrumph. "I've forgotten more about debauchery than any ten lesser hedonists will ever know," he declared, gulping down his second drink even more quickly than the first. "Lost in a veritable ocean of chemical abuse and physical excesses. I'll show you how it's done."
He answered Betsy's smile with a smirk. "And if I should need to be carried home, then I deserve to abandoned where I fall."
Brian poured himself a third glass, though this one he nursed slightly more slowly. He considered, for a moment, nudging his sister back, but he feared accidentally misjudging his own force, so instead he simply shrugged in her direction. He didn't know that he would ever have enough to drink to make telling this tale less painful.
"It is not a particularly interesting story," he confessed. He took another swallow before turning back to the Master of Hedonists himself. "And I'd not tempt her. She's a woman of her word, more often than not."
"I could be convinced to make other people carry you," Betsy amended, looking thoughtfully at her brother.
Looking from one of the mismatched Braddock twins to the other, Shinobi rolled his empty glass between his palms. Though he could not deny a certain curiosity regarding Brian's reason for suddenly desiring a night on the town with one of his family's least-respectable acquaintances, it was clear the other boy wasn't much in the mood to discuss the subject at length. And, really, that was probably for the best, since he wasn't awfully good at offering comfort or reassurance. All he could do, really, was help him forget, for a bit.
"Now that would make for quite the spectacle," Shinobi mused, grinning. "How many New Yorkers do you suppose it would take to hoist this marble Adonis from the ground? My money's on seven. Eight, if they're Manhattan natives."
Brian huffed a laugh. "'Marble Adonis'?" He turned to his sister. "Have you any idea where he gets these things?" Back to Shinobi. "Do you sit about, preparing the things you go on to say?"
"Shinobi has always had an elegant way with words," Betsy pointed out. "He read very lurid novels as a child, I'm sure, and built up his vocabulary. When the business world gets tiring, you can always go into romance novel writing."
The object of their discussion offered a haughty sniff. "I assure you, at least forty percent of everything I say is completely spontaneous." But his expression quickly relaxed once more into its former easy playfulness. "And I still read the lurid novels--the more so, the better. I tried writing a novel once, you know." He stuck out his tongue without a hint of self-consciousness. "Business is much, < i>much easier. Sadly, I have a much better head for figures than plot and character development."
"And here I was under the impression you'd quite the head for plotting," Brian mused. Another sip of his drink, and he was thankful that the first two were finally doing their work, and his felt his face warm slightly and his extremities register the intoxicant's presence. "Had I known you were all business, perhaps I'd not have asked you along this evening. Not a business outing, after all."
"I'm not sure who else you would have taken," Betsy commented. "Shinobi's one of the few gentleman in the school equipped for handling drunken Braddocks, I think."
Shaw gave Brian a somewhat mournful look. "Turns out there's a world of difference between social plotting and literary plotting. Who knew? Either way, I think you'll find me perfectly capable of dealing with tipsy aristocrats. I find they're rather like tipsy any-other-stratum-of-society. Alcohol truly is the great equalizer. Speaking of ..." Shinobi held out his glass in silent supplication.
The other boy poured his companion a measure of liquor, before enjoying some more of his own. "I am concerned by the obvious authority with which you speak on the topic of all manner of inebriated individuals," Brian commented. Another sip, and then. "So tell me, sister of mine, if you've a belief that my liver is impervious, you do not intend to drink, and I suspect you've not yet succumbed to Shinobi's charms, what about this outing interests you?"
"Who says I haven't succumbed to Shinobi's charms?" she teased. "You might have more endurance now, but that doesn't mean alcohol still won't make you inevitably behave like an arse. I'm here to make sure you don't get maudlin. Besides, I'm making up for the time we were apart. I probably owe you a drink."
"Or seven," Shinobi agreed, moving the glass away from his mouth after a relatively demur sip. "Nothing like making up for lost time. It's a handy pretext for stuffing several months worth of bad behavior into a single night. And avoid all things maudlin, if at all possible." He wasn't about to touch that business about his charm as it related to Betsy; in the first place, she was one of a tiny handful of people who intimidated him, however slightly. In the second, he might have been a fast worker, but even he wasn't that fast. This was quite possibly the longest face-to-face conversation they'd had since he'd returned to New York.
One day, he was definitely going to ask about that Asian bodyswap thing. It was almost certainly a fascinating story.
"Well, if you've the intention of buying me seven drinks, perhaps I ought slow down," Brian mused, taking another sip. "I'm certain, however, that our parents will be immensely gratified that you are supervising."
"Keeping you alive is sort of my job." She touched her ankle against his, the gesture infused with love that she wasn't voicing. "I'll buy you seven drinks if you can handle it. Slow down enough to get us where we're going, and we'll look for brighter distractions when we get there."
"Kanpai," said Shinobi by way of agreement, raising his glass to the siblings Braddock. This promised to be an extremely interesting evening--his very favorite kind.
-----
Brian stepped out of the car, more impervious to the cold than he'd have ever been sober, and waited beside the door (held up by the driver) for his sister and Shinobi. The exterior of the locale was nothing worthy of much note; which was, he supposed, the very point.
Betsy stuck close by, already preparing to do some serious exercise with her powers tonight. She wasn't letting anyone send sloppy drunk pictures of Brian or Shinobi to the tabloids. Things likely regrettable in the morning.
When Shinobi exited the car, it was as though he expected to be photographed at any moment, so extravagant and calculated was his every movement. Leaning up to drape an arm around Brian's broad shoulders, and reaching to wrap Betsy under the other, he looked at the unprepossessing club front and proclaimed, "I think this will be an enjoyable evening. Come, siblings Braddock! The rest of the night is on me. I expect that, between the three of us, we can drum up a tab that will make the old man apoplectic." He tugged them in the direction of the entrance.
"Quite obliging of you," Brian commented, "to volunteer Sebastian Shaw's accounts in such a way."
He followed Shinobi's direction towards the entrance, nodding at the bouncer who seemed as though he had considered directing them to the rather long line formed at the entrance. Whether he had recognized them or simply did not like the look of Brian's frame, the Brit never found out, however, because he'd no need to inquire once the other man had waved them towards the door.
Betsy rolled her eyes but stayed under Shinobi's arm. She was already probing around idly, trying to figure out if there was anyone she needed to make sure didn't see them, not in a way they'd remember. "We'll make sure to make up for lost time, Shinobi. Let's grab a round of something that won't thin paint."
"Capital idea. Just capital," Shinobi gushed, sweeping past the bouncer without a second look. Despite the long line outside, the interior wasn't cramped or overcrowded; there were still a few dark, intimate booths free, and at least one table setting near a small, relatively clear area that presumably served as a dance floor, when the need arose. No one appeared to making use of it at present, though.
Shaw made a beeline for the bar, tapping the aged wooden surface to gain the server's attention. "Three of your finest, non-paint-thinning cocktails," he ordered. Then, after a moment's consideration, added, "And a shot of vodka for my Brobingnagian friend. The good stuff!" He sifted through his interior jacket pocket for a moment, eventually locating his wallet. Immediately he began rooting through it for a card--any card, really; it wasn't as though he kept track of the various, minor perks that came with choosing one over another in a given setting--in order to begin the tab. Which would, no doubt, be nothing short of epic.
Brian followed Shinobi in the direction of the bar, his liquor-assisted good mood making him far more comfortable than he normally would be. No, the venue was, at present, far from full, but the crowd would grow and he was glad he had preemptively prepared.
"So what, my gracious host, are we drinking?"
Betsy snorted softly as the bartender prepared some very girly looking cocktails. She skimmed the crowd curiously while settling between the boys.
"Well, it's obviously ..." He held up the drink, handing off his card to the bartender--a cute little thing in a black t-shirt that was about two sizes too small--and examined it closely. When that failed to yield any useful information, he took a sniff. "It's clearly ..." Nothing. "It's," he took a sip, "it's fuscia. Look, just drink it, okay? Don't examine free alcohol too closely. It's the highest form of discourtesy."
"My apologies. It is fuscia, of course. I've no idea how I could have been so obtuse," Brian agreed with a small smirk. He plucked his drink from the counter, still aware enough to be careful with his grip, and raised it towards his two companions. "Thank you both, for joining me."
Betsy lifted her glass as well. "Here's to you forgetting whatever it is you're trying to forget, and to neither of you boys ending up shirtless and dancing on a table by night's end."
"I'll drink to the first part," said Shinobi, holding up his glass gamely, "but I prefer to leave the second an open-action item. See where the evening takes us. Cul sec!" He drained half the contents in a gulp, resting his back against the bar and sighing contentedly as he finished. When he opened his eyes again, he gave Brian a measuring look. "Not to sound ungrateful, as I'm more pleased than I can say to have been invited to accompany you this evening, but ... well, it's not typical. You haven't suffered some sort of personality-altering blow to the head recently, have you?"
Brian tipped his glass back and took care of the majority of his first official drink of the evening. "Not in the least." He tapped his temple with a pointer finger. "Invulnerable, after all."
Betsy eyed him, sipping her drink more gingerly since one of them was going to have to get them back to the car later this evening. She reached over and tapped Brian's chest right over his heart. "Invulnerable?"
"I'm afraid some human frailties remain, no matter how impervious our bodies may be," Shinobi agreed with his best approximation of a sagacious nod. "Gods save us from our squishier parts."
"We should be so fortunate," Brian muttered in agreement. He finished off his glass, and looked over towards the barkeep. "Another."
He glanced down to where Betsy had tapped his chest before meeting her eyes and shaking his head, "But no. Not invulnerable."
She wasn't digging very deep, but she didn't have to be telepathic to have some suspicions regarding Brian's behavior. She was his sister after all. "You know, this isn't really something a sister usually offers but I'm feeling extremely charitable. I'm sure Shinobi can help me find some attractive women willing to do shots off of you at some point tonight. That's healthy for teenage boys, right?"
"Some?" Shinobi repeated, sounding mildly outraged. "Dear Betsy, I'll have every eligible bachelorette in this establishment lining up to take their libations straight from your sibling. I won't even have to employ much in the way of friendly persuasion--have you seen the way their eyes gobble him up? I'm fairly certain the bartender would demand first dibs, once we open up the floor."
Brian was looking at them both, eyes wide, his drink nearly forgotten (though he'd not forgotten to take it in hand). "You are both mental."
"And you're extremely broody. Hot women won't cure that? I mean, it's you, so I know I'm going out on a limb here. Books don't mix with alcohol."
"Pshaw," Shinobi scoffed, finishing off his drink and waving it in the air to indicate his desire for another. "Everything mixes with alcohol. It's just a question of finding the right mix." As the bartender laid the fresh, fuscia beverage before him, he caught her hand in his briefly and murmured, "We're taking a poll: would you or would you not care to take a shot from the perfect chiseled abs of my English friend here?" He nodded in Brian's direction, and the girl stared, then appeared to consider, and giggled before pulling from his grip and hurrying to the next patron.
"Translation: hell yes. In the common vernacular."
"I am not brooding," Brian protested. He took a long sip, before continuing. "And I am hardly denying that I...that beautiful women...this is hardly a proper conversation to be having with my sister, even if such a plan were feasible."
"Don't be a prude, Bri. I accept that you are a person with feelings. I'm just going to look away if you start making out with the bartender or anyone else in the vicinity and make Shinobi buy me more drinks while you're occupied."
"Even if such a thing were feasible, which I find doubtful," Brian said, finishing his second drink and gesturing to their bartender. Who, thanks to Shinobi, could apparently no longer look at him without turning an admittedly fetching shade of pink. "I've hardly had enough to drink for such antics, and the press would have a field day in any case."
"Oh, the press, the press," Shinobi waved that aside with his glass, which he happily held out for a refill. "Between your sister and my scary local connections, there is virtually no chance the fourth estate will have anything to do with our evening. Trust me! I'm familiar with this element of society."
"I can make people forget they saw you," Betsy said with a warm smile. "Except the person snogging you. Tht's sketchy."
He sipped at his new drink and shook his head. "I highly doubt this will be an issue, any event, though I appreciate the support." Brian sipped at his drink, and admitted, "I hadn't wanted to think about my own attractiveness tonight."
Shinobi actually looked curious at that, leaning forward with his refreshed drink. "Really? But your attractiveness is such a distraction! I must admit, I am capable of thinking of little else, just now. It really is terribly acute, you know."
Betsy raised a brow and then nodded. "I hope you realize that living in that mansion really gives a terrible perspective of options, Bri."
"All I realize," Brian said, finishing off what was in his glass, and gesturing for another. "Is that apparently, in comparison to that half-wit Roberto DaCosta, I have been found lacking."
Shinobi's eyes widened in surprise, his consumption of alcohol to that point bringing with it a small measure of unaccustomed honesty. This was certainly a surprise, on any number of levels. Clearly, he'd been jarred from the rumor mill, at some point along the line, if this were the first he were hearing of something so very, very juicy. But, more than mere voyeuristic interest, it was somewhat concerning to see Brian reacting so poorly to the resolution of this apparent love triangle into a single line.
"Sou ka," he murmured. "I suppose there's no accounting for taste, is there?" he was quick to add, diplomatically. "Lovely and brainless just does it for some people." Shinobi liked Bobby, no question, but there was no getting around the fact that he was no genius, while Brian unquestionably was. In Braddock's position, he supposed he would have been equally stung by such an outcome.
Then again, vanity had always been a weakness of his. For some reason, he'd always imagined Brian immune to its temptations. Live and learn.
"If that's her decision she's not bright enough for you. DaCosta is not a good life choice. That boy is publicly still morning his girlfriend." Betsy made a disapproving face. "You're much better in every way. Anyone who can't see that isn't worth you."
Brian shook his head a little drained his drink. This room was warmer, now, than it had been earlier. Interesting. There were more people here now, too, which he'd somehow missed. He saw a gaggle of young women, and quickly looked away, back to the bartender for another round.
"Far be it from me to suggest drinking your troubles away is not a valid option," piped up Shinobi, wiggling his glass in the direction of the bartender to indicate his own desire for another round. "And I would be the last one to contradict Betsy's assessment, of course." He nodded in the other Braddock sibling's direction. "But ... perhaps you are concerned you should have fought a bit harder? That, perhaps, your gentlemanly impulses left you ill-equipped to deal with a rival suitor in a manner that might have shifted matters to your favor?"
Betsy glanced at Shinobi, not sure if what he was getting at was helpful.
Brian accepted his glass and took a thoughtful sip. "She can make her own decision," he said rotely. And he believed it, though he believed she'd made the wrong one. "I've given her choices. I don't know that fighting harder is an option."
Unless it was, and he'd somehow failed by not seeing how. "Is it?"
Betsy raised a brow. "It's always an option, unless it turns into stalking."
"Oh, yes," Shinobi agreed. "We mustn't be tacky about it, after all. In any event," he held up his cup in salute and took another drink, "to poor decisions, then."
Brian raised his glass as well, and then drank before looking back towards the floor. Poor decisions, Shinobi had said? There seemed to be plenty of very good - and yet simultaneously very poor - decisions available tonight. And, buoyed by the liquid courage now making its presence known in his veins, Brian was contemplating them more seriously.
"Which poor decision do you lot recommend first?"
Betsy eyed Brian, then Shinobi, then nudged Shinobi. "Your territory. Let's have some sketchy decisions."
"I am going to choose to take that as a compliment," replied the designated Sketchmeister decisively, before allowing his eyes to scan their dim surroundings. The number of patrons present had grown in the relatively short time since they'd arrived, so there was ample opportunity for mischief at hand. His vulpine attentions soon fell upon a clutch of twenty-somethings gathered at the opposite corner of the bar. Plainly, they had come to celebrate ... well, it scarcely mattered--their collective mood was suitably festive. Promising.
"How about we co-opt that party? Seems a good place to begin gathering volunteers for bodyshots."
"Should we really co-opt a party?" Brian asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
"Wouldn't that.....wait," the rest of Shinobi's suggestion had this penetrated his slightly sluggish mind. "Body shots?"
"Good boy," Betsy said proudly, clapping her brother on the back. "You take your lessons from our dear friend. I'll turn a blind eye."
"Not too blind, I hope," Shinobi interjected, picking up his newest drink and pushing off the bar, wavering only in the slightest as his legs took on sole responsibility for keeping him upright. "I like to think I have a little something to teach everybody."
"I'd thank you to keep your lessons on body shots to people other than my sister," Brian warmed mildly, though his eyes did not stray from the group of women Shinobi had indicated. "How," he wondered aloud, "do you intend to convince those women to do body shots with us?"
"I'm pretty sure it will simply involve asking. You do realize we're blessed with stunningly good looks? Just don't start talking physics, and all will be well, baby brother."
"Your sister speaks wisely," Shaw added, gesturing grandiosely with his glass. "This is the age of Harry Potter and Princes Harry and William; girls like that waste deplorable amounts of time daydreaming about having a rich, handsome, well-mannered British aristocrat to call her own. Have another drink to drive the last of those physics lessons out of your head for the time being, and we'll begin our sortie."
The idea of going up to a group of women and proposing such an idea made Brian's stomach cringe, but...it also seemed like such a good idea. He downed the rest of his drink quickly, and swallowed nervously. "Right. Okay."
He leaned down to his sister's ear, kissing her cheek and murmuring, "If this goes horribly awry, I may blame you tomorrow."
"And I'll blame Shinobi!" she said cheerfully. She smiled sweetly at Shinobi.
Shinobi's smile was equally saccharine. "And I will be pleased beyond words to play the scapegoat tonight. It is, after all, in furtherance of a worthy cause." Without need for instruction, the bartender rested fresh glasses beside Shaw and Brian. Shinobi scooped his up practically without looking, and pointed grandly in the direction of their targets for the night. "Shall we?"
Brian picked up his own glass and fidgeted slightly. "We shall. I suppose."
He still felt vaguely sick, and like he'd been hit by something hard in the chest. Somehow. Despite the fact he was purportedly invulnerable to harm now. Brian hated it, and had finally determined the best solution.
He finally reached his intended goal, and knocked upon the door. "Shinobi?"
Rather than answer directly, or even just open the door, Shinobi instead hopped from his bed--where he'd been reclining quite comfortably for the last little while, halfway to dozing--and poked his face directly through the door, Jacob Marley-style. His eyes widened immediately upon seeing this most unexpected guest.
"Brian!" he gushed, lunging through the inconvenient plank of wood to wrap his arms around the gigantic Brit's shoulders, at least a quarter of him remaining behind in the room as a result. Still, his grip on the manlier Braddock sibling was perfectly solid--an advantage of discretionary phasing! "This is an unexpected delight. Whatever can I do for you, Old Man?"
Brian had become quite distracted the moment the other boy had come through the bloody door. That should not be possible. He was a physics phenomenon. At some point he'd have to persuade the younger Shaw down to the lab.
"I'm going out. Need something to drink and some distraction. And quite honestly, Shinobi, you're the most distracting drinking partner I've ever met."
For a moment, the most vaguely perplexed of looks passed across Shinobi's face, but it was quickly replaced with an ecstatic grin. "My friend, you have come to absolutely the right place." He phased the rest of the way through the wall, in his button-down wine-colored shirt and ash-gray trousers. "Come, you can explain as much as you care to on our way to the garage. Though I warn you, we may have to secure alternative means back home. I'm a bad enough driver when I'm sober, you know."
"I've already called a car," Brian assured him dryly. He glanced down at his own clothing, slacks and a blue button-down shirt and supposed he was dressed well enough "Shall we, then? I'd rather avoid my sister finding out, and the chances of her doing so go greater with every moment we remain here."
Shinobi just grinned. "Just when I think you've finally given into spontaneity, you go and prove your inability not to plan every little thing out in advance for me again. Well. I'll wear you down yet, never fear." He stepped the last pace or so through the door and brushed himself off nonchalantly. "By all means, let us proceed! Though, I warn you, if this is something Betsy is going to come looking to eviscerate me for later, I will plead complete ignorance."
"I suspect I'm in greater danger of evisceration. And, on our way, you should tell me how, precisely, you just did that."
At that, Shinobi gave Brian a sideways, inquiring look. "Did what?" In the meanwhile, he took the stuffy (but nonetheless adorable) Braddock sibling by the arm and began leading him toward the foyer.
And that was exactly the Shinobi Shaw that Brian had come to expect, completely irreverent and determined to feign ignorance as to socially defined boundaries. "You walked through a door. I expect the unusual from you, but that was unusual even by those standards."
"Oh, that!" Shinobi replied, patting Brian on the arm. "Honestly, I'd have thought you would have heard of that already. That's my mutation, milord Braddock. Well, part of it, anyway. I can vary my molecular phase to pass through solid objects." He looked up at the lovely golden boy, batting his eyelashes outrageously. "I'm so pleased to have exceeded you expectations this once."
Brian snorted. "I'm sure that is an experience you've been waiting your entire life for."
He led the other teen outside, just in time for the black automobile to pull around in the driveway. Excellent timing or excellent service, it hardly mattered beyond something finally going Brian's way today. "You vary your molecular structure only to phase through objects, or can you adjust it in other ways as well?"
Magnanimously, Shinobi elected to ignore that initial bit of sarcasm. After all, Brian had always been ... well. Not the sort to consider himself better than him on the basis of pedigree alone, but he was a good, well-behaved boy, always doing exactly what he was expected to do. If he wished to perceive himself as possessing a sort of moral high-ground, Shinobi wasn't prepared to begrudge him that.
As he molded himself to the fit of the comfortable leather interior, Shaw said, "Oh, yes. Other ways as well. But I think we've reached the point in the conversation where you tell me what you can do." His tone was teasing, but gaze was surprisingly sharp.
"Physical enhancement," Brian answered, slipping into the car as well. "Strength, stamina, durability...a number of things, really."
Apparent Brian hadn't done as good of a job slinking away from his sister as he'd hoped. Before the car could pull away Betsy's voice popped into Brian's head. Brian? Are you okay?
He groaned audibly and let his head fall back against the well-upholstered seat. "We've been caught." Brian pushed himself back upright as he pulled his thoughts together. He'd have run a hand through his hair, but that would only ruin how it had been styled. "Give me a moment to placate my sister. Driver," he called through the divider. "Please hold a moment."
I am in need of distraction. It has been a trying day.
Shinobi had slouched into his seat quite obligingly, only to sit up as Brian apparently encountered interference of some kind. "Well," he said, "don't mind me. I'll just sit here like ballast until I'm acknowledged again." But in his mind, he was fairly bellowing, Hello? Hello out there? Konnichiwa? What's going on?
Betsy snorted delicately, now in both their minds. Where are you going? she asked. She could tell Brian was in some kind of turmoil and adding Shinobi to the mix did not bode well.
Out. I do not much care where. Brian explained.
Though he found the whole situation a bit perplexing, Shinobi was prepared to do his best to remain in the loop. From the backseat of the towncar, he offered, Uhm, bon jour? I'm not planning to sully your brother's virtue, or anything. Honest! But he seems to need the outing, and he's never ... ever asked me for anything before, so I can't say I object to obliging him.
Betsy hesitated before cutting Shinobi out of the mental loop. Something bad happen? It feels it. Do you want me to leave you boys alone?
I...I've had a difficult day. And you're never an inconvenience, but I do need to leave. Forget about this for a bit. If you wish to continue our discussion, you may come along, but you will have to hurry.
Of course, the sort of trouble they could get into - Shinobi and Betsy, that was - was something that also did not bear much thinking about. However...Betsy was his sister, and unlike perhaps some others in his life, was less likely to voluntarily leave him. And she knew him. She was something of a comfort, in those ways, though they'd lived apart enough that it had been quite awhile before she'd seen him intoxicated.
And Brian had every intention of becoming intoxicated.
Betsy decided quickly. She was close enough, she dashed off for the door. I'll be right there. Openly to the two of them again she added. Incoming chaperone. If you're both going to get pissed, it might be good to have someone with you that can make the locals forget they ever saw us. Or forget that your ID isn't the valid age in the states, Brian.
Once he'd realized he'd been cut out of the psychic loop, Shinobi had taken his petty revenge by singing 'MmmBop!' over and over in his head just as loud as he possibly could. But that was forgotten quickly enough when Betsy re-established telepathic contact. Oh, but that's no fun! What's the point of making spectacles of ourselves if there's no one to gossip about it later? Still, I suppose it wouldn't go amiss to have a representative of the fairer sex along. In my experience, girls improve everything.
Bet everyone thinks you're my sister, though.
A horrifying thought for many reasons, Brian determined. Right. Well, this evening was about to become far more of a spectacle, wasn't it?
Welcome to the family, Shinobi, Betsy thought dryly. She stepped outside and headed down to the car.
Mazel tov, contributed the newest Braddock. Though somehow I imagine this causing a violent immune response from the rest of the aristocracy. He drummed his fingers along the upholstery, eager to be off.
While they waited for Betsy's arrival, Brian reached for the mini-bar conveniently located in the back of the car. Again, finally something obliging, as opposed to the rather unobliging day he'd had all 'round. He pulled out a bottle of Belvedere - not his preferred drink, but it would do - and reached for a glass. Going out would be better, but that hardly meant he had to wait.
It didn't take long for Betsy to get to the car, and once inside she sprawled back, looking between the two of them. She didn't pass any judgement over Brian's drinking. It was probably for the best someone kept an eye on them.
"Okay, out you go. I guess we'll see how invulnerable your liver is now."
"Invulnerable liver seems like cheating," Shinobi protested, helping himself to another glass and holding it out imploringly to Brian. "Generally, I would applaud that kind of thing, but drinking is a very serious matter. Some breaches simply aren't cricket, old sport."
"If it means that drinking has lost its point, then the only one who has been cheated is me," Brian pointed out. He tipped a generous amount into his glass before filling Shinobi's. Turning to Betsy he gestured with the bottle. "Are you joining us?"
She waved him off. "Later. If I'm going to drink, I'll wait for something better. I haven't tested out my new metabolism either." She smiled at him.
Shinobi, quite unsurprisingly, didn't stand on propriety, tipping back his drink in one long swallow and giving a satisfied sigh as he finished. "I am choosing not to try to keep pace with you, milord Braddock, only because your organs are impervious, and I'm pretty sure alcohol poisoning will still kill me, eventually."
To his sister, he offered a sage nod as he lazily swirled the empty glass in the air. "Baby steps would be my advice, at least until you've tested how she handles. Much as I dislike being seen as the sort to stereotype, the Japanese don't always handle their liquor very well."
Brian's vodka was gone before Shinobi had even begun his recourse to Asian sterotypes, and the Brit poured himself another. If that burn in his stomach - had he not had supper? - was any sort of indication, his organs were not as impervious as the rest of him.
Which was actually quite useful, he supposed. At least given the circumstances. Brian offered the bottle to Shinobi. "Come now. You are supposed to be the debauched one here, are you not?"
Betsy nudged Brian's ankle. "Tell me when you've had enough drinks to explain why you need so many drinks." she turned a small smile Shinobi's way. "I am not carrying either of you home. Just a forewarning."
Shinobi accepted the refill with a little, discontented harrumph. "I've forgotten more about debauchery than any ten lesser hedonists will ever know," he declared, gulping down his second drink even more quickly than the first. "Lost in a veritable ocean of chemical abuse and physical excesses. I'll show you how it's done."
He answered Betsy's smile with a smirk. "And if I should need to be carried home, then I deserve to abandoned where I fall."
Brian poured himself a third glass, though this one he nursed slightly more slowly. He considered, for a moment, nudging his sister back, but he feared accidentally misjudging his own force, so instead he simply shrugged in her direction. He didn't know that he would ever have enough to drink to make telling this tale less painful.
"It is not a particularly interesting story," he confessed. He took another swallow before turning back to the Master of Hedonists himself. "And I'd not tempt her. She's a woman of her word, more often than not."
"I could be convinced to make other people carry you," Betsy amended, looking thoughtfully at her brother.
Looking from one of the mismatched Braddock twins to the other, Shinobi rolled his empty glass between his palms. Though he could not deny a certain curiosity regarding Brian's reason for suddenly desiring a night on the town with one of his family's least-respectable acquaintances, it was clear the other boy wasn't much in the mood to discuss the subject at length. And, really, that was probably for the best, since he wasn't awfully good at offering comfort or reassurance. All he could do, really, was help him forget, for a bit.
"Now that would make for quite the spectacle," Shinobi mused, grinning. "How many New Yorkers do you suppose it would take to hoist this marble Adonis from the ground? My money's on seven. Eight, if they're Manhattan natives."
Brian huffed a laugh. "'Marble Adonis'?" He turned to his sister. "Have you any idea where he gets these things?" Back to Shinobi. "Do you sit about, preparing the things you go on to say?"
"Shinobi has always had an elegant way with words," Betsy pointed out. "He read very lurid novels as a child, I'm sure, and built up his vocabulary. When the business world gets tiring, you can always go into romance novel writing."
The object of their discussion offered a haughty sniff. "I assure you, at least forty percent of everything I say is completely spontaneous." But his expression quickly relaxed once more into its former easy playfulness. "And I still read the lurid novels--the more so, the better. I tried writing a novel once, you know." He stuck out his tongue without a hint of self-consciousness. "Business is much, < i>much easier. Sadly, I have a much better head for figures than plot and character development."
"And here I was under the impression you'd quite the head for plotting," Brian mused. Another sip of his drink, and he was thankful that the first two were finally doing their work, and his felt his face warm slightly and his extremities register the intoxicant's presence. "Had I known you were all business, perhaps I'd not have asked you along this evening. Not a business outing, after all."
"I'm not sure who else you would have taken," Betsy commented. "Shinobi's one of the few gentleman in the school equipped for handling drunken Braddocks, I think."
Shaw gave Brian a somewhat mournful look. "Turns out there's a world of difference between social plotting and literary plotting. Who knew? Either way, I think you'll find me perfectly capable of dealing with tipsy aristocrats. I find they're rather like tipsy any-other-stratum-of-society. Alcohol truly is the great equalizer. Speaking of ..." Shinobi held out his glass in silent supplication.
The other boy poured his companion a measure of liquor, before enjoying some more of his own. "I am concerned by the obvious authority with which you speak on the topic of all manner of inebriated individuals," Brian commented. Another sip, and then. "So tell me, sister of mine, if you've a belief that my liver is impervious, you do not intend to drink, and I suspect you've not yet succumbed to Shinobi's charms, what about this outing interests you?"
"Who says I haven't succumbed to Shinobi's charms?" she teased. "You might have more endurance now, but that doesn't mean alcohol still won't make you inevitably behave like an arse. I'm here to make sure you don't get maudlin. Besides, I'm making up for the time we were apart. I probably owe you a drink."
"Or seven," Shinobi agreed, moving the glass away from his mouth after a relatively demur sip. "Nothing like making up for lost time. It's a handy pretext for stuffing several months worth of bad behavior into a single night. And avoid all things maudlin, if at all possible." He wasn't about to touch that business about his charm as it related to Betsy; in the first place, she was one of a tiny handful of people who intimidated him, however slightly. In the second, he might have been a fast worker, but even he wasn't that fast. This was quite possibly the longest face-to-face conversation they'd had since he'd returned to New York.
One day, he was definitely going to ask about that Asian bodyswap thing. It was almost certainly a fascinating story.
"Well, if you've the intention of buying me seven drinks, perhaps I ought slow down," Brian mused, taking another sip. "I'm certain, however, that our parents will be immensely gratified that you are supervising."
"Keeping you alive is sort of my job." She touched her ankle against his, the gesture infused with love that she wasn't voicing. "I'll buy you seven drinks if you can handle it. Slow down enough to get us where we're going, and we'll look for brighter distractions when we get there."
"Kanpai," said Shinobi by way of agreement, raising his glass to the siblings Braddock. This promised to be an extremely interesting evening--his very favorite kind.
-----
Brian stepped out of the car, more impervious to the cold than he'd have ever been sober, and waited beside the door (held up by the driver) for his sister and Shinobi. The exterior of the locale was nothing worthy of much note; which was, he supposed, the very point.
Betsy stuck close by, already preparing to do some serious exercise with her powers tonight. She wasn't letting anyone send sloppy drunk pictures of Brian or Shinobi to the tabloids. Things likely regrettable in the morning.
When Shinobi exited the car, it was as though he expected to be photographed at any moment, so extravagant and calculated was his every movement. Leaning up to drape an arm around Brian's broad shoulders, and reaching to wrap Betsy under the other, he looked at the unprepossessing club front and proclaimed, "I think this will be an enjoyable evening. Come, siblings Braddock! The rest of the night is on me. I expect that, between the three of us, we can drum up a tab that will make the old man apoplectic." He tugged them in the direction of the entrance.
"Quite obliging of you," Brian commented, "to volunteer Sebastian Shaw's accounts in such a way."
He followed Shinobi's direction towards the entrance, nodding at the bouncer who seemed as though he had considered directing them to the rather long line formed at the entrance. Whether he had recognized them or simply did not like the look of Brian's frame, the Brit never found out, however, because he'd no need to inquire once the other man had waved them towards the door.
Betsy rolled her eyes but stayed under Shinobi's arm. She was already probing around idly, trying to figure out if there was anyone she needed to make sure didn't see them, not in a way they'd remember. "We'll make sure to make up for lost time, Shinobi. Let's grab a round of something that won't thin paint."
"Capital idea. Just capital," Shinobi gushed, sweeping past the bouncer without a second look. Despite the long line outside, the interior wasn't cramped or overcrowded; there were still a few dark, intimate booths free, and at least one table setting near a small, relatively clear area that presumably served as a dance floor, when the need arose. No one appeared to making use of it at present, though.
Shaw made a beeline for the bar, tapping the aged wooden surface to gain the server's attention. "Three of your finest, non-paint-thinning cocktails," he ordered. Then, after a moment's consideration, added, "And a shot of vodka for my Brobingnagian friend. The good stuff!" He sifted through his interior jacket pocket for a moment, eventually locating his wallet. Immediately he began rooting through it for a card--any card, really; it wasn't as though he kept track of the various, minor perks that came with choosing one over another in a given setting--in order to begin the tab. Which would, no doubt, be nothing short of epic.
Brian followed Shinobi in the direction of the bar, his liquor-assisted good mood making him far more comfortable than he normally would be. No, the venue was, at present, far from full, but the crowd would grow and he was glad he had preemptively prepared.
"So what, my gracious host, are we drinking?"
Betsy snorted softly as the bartender prepared some very girly looking cocktails. She skimmed the crowd curiously while settling between the boys.
"Well, it's obviously ..." He held up the drink, handing off his card to the bartender--a cute little thing in a black t-shirt that was about two sizes too small--and examined it closely. When that failed to yield any useful information, he took a sniff. "It's clearly ..." Nothing. "It's," he took a sip, "it's fuscia. Look, just drink it, okay? Don't examine free alcohol too closely. It's the highest form of discourtesy."
"My apologies. It is fuscia, of course. I've no idea how I could have been so obtuse," Brian agreed with a small smirk. He plucked his drink from the counter, still aware enough to be careful with his grip, and raised it towards his two companions. "Thank you both, for joining me."
Betsy lifted her glass as well. "Here's to you forgetting whatever it is you're trying to forget, and to neither of you boys ending up shirtless and dancing on a table by night's end."
"I'll drink to the first part," said Shinobi, holding up his glass gamely, "but I prefer to leave the second an open-action item. See where the evening takes us. Cul sec!" He drained half the contents in a gulp, resting his back against the bar and sighing contentedly as he finished. When he opened his eyes again, he gave Brian a measuring look. "Not to sound ungrateful, as I'm more pleased than I can say to have been invited to accompany you this evening, but ... well, it's not typical. You haven't suffered some sort of personality-altering blow to the head recently, have you?"
Brian tipped his glass back and took care of the majority of his first official drink of the evening. "Not in the least." He tapped his temple with a pointer finger. "Invulnerable, after all."
Betsy eyed him, sipping her drink more gingerly since one of them was going to have to get them back to the car later this evening. She reached over and tapped Brian's chest right over his heart. "Invulnerable?"
"I'm afraid some human frailties remain, no matter how impervious our bodies may be," Shinobi agreed with his best approximation of a sagacious nod. "Gods save us from our squishier parts."
"We should be so fortunate," Brian muttered in agreement. He finished off his glass, and looked over towards the barkeep. "Another."
He glanced down to where Betsy had tapped his chest before meeting her eyes and shaking his head, "But no. Not invulnerable."
She wasn't digging very deep, but she didn't have to be telepathic to have some suspicions regarding Brian's behavior. She was his sister after all. "You know, this isn't really something a sister usually offers but I'm feeling extremely charitable. I'm sure Shinobi can help me find some attractive women willing to do shots off of you at some point tonight. That's healthy for teenage boys, right?"
"Some?" Shinobi repeated, sounding mildly outraged. "Dear Betsy, I'll have every eligible bachelorette in this establishment lining up to take their libations straight from your sibling. I won't even have to employ much in the way of friendly persuasion--have you seen the way their eyes gobble him up? I'm fairly certain the bartender would demand first dibs, once we open up the floor."
Brian was looking at them both, eyes wide, his drink nearly forgotten (though he'd not forgotten to take it in hand). "You are both mental."
"And you're extremely broody. Hot women won't cure that? I mean, it's you, so I know I'm going out on a limb here. Books don't mix with alcohol."
"Pshaw," Shinobi scoffed, finishing off his drink and waving it in the air to indicate his desire for another. "Everything mixes with alcohol. It's just a question of finding the right mix." As the bartender laid the fresh, fuscia beverage before him, he caught her hand in his briefly and murmured, "We're taking a poll: would you or would you not care to take a shot from the perfect chiseled abs of my English friend here?" He nodded in Brian's direction, and the girl stared, then appeared to consider, and giggled before pulling from his grip and hurrying to the next patron.
"Translation: hell yes. In the common vernacular."
"I am not brooding," Brian protested. He took a long sip, before continuing. "And I am hardly denying that I...that beautiful women...this is hardly a proper conversation to be having with my sister, even if such a plan were feasible."
"Don't be a prude, Bri. I accept that you are a person with feelings. I'm just going to look away if you start making out with the bartender or anyone else in the vicinity and make Shinobi buy me more drinks while you're occupied."
"Even if such a thing were feasible, which I find doubtful," Brian said, finishing his second drink and gesturing to their bartender. Who, thanks to Shinobi, could apparently no longer look at him without turning an admittedly fetching shade of pink. "I've hardly had enough to drink for such antics, and the press would have a field day in any case."
"Oh, the press, the press," Shinobi waved that aside with his glass, which he happily held out for a refill. "Between your sister and my scary local connections, there is virtually no chance the fourth estate will have anything to do with our evening. Trust me! I'm familiar with this element of society."
"I can make people forget they saw you," Betsy said with a warm smile. "Except the person snogging you. Tht's sketchy."
He sipped at his new drink and shook his head. "I highly doubt this will be an issue, any event, though I appreciate the support." Brian sipped at his drink, and admitted, "I hadn't wanted to think about my own attractiveness tonight."
Shinobi actually looked curious at that, leaning forward with his refreshed drink. "Really? But your attractiveness is such a distraction! I must admit, I am capable of thinking of little else, just now. It really is terribly acute, you know."
Betsy raised a brow and then nodded. "I hope you realize that living in that mansion really gives a terrible perspective of options, Bri."
"All I realize," Brian said, finishing off what was in his glass, and gesturing for another. "Is that apparently, in comparison to that half-wit Roberto DaCosta, I have been found lacking."
Shinobi's eyes widened in surprise, his consumption of alcohol to that point bringing with it a small measure of unaccustomed honesty. This was certainly a surprise, on any number of levels. Clearly, he'd been jarred from the rumor mill, at some point along the line, if this were the first he were hearing of something so very, very juicy. But, more than mere voyeuristic interest, it was somewhat concerning to see Brian reacting so poorly to the resolution of this apparent love triangle into a single line.
"Sou ka," he murmured. "I suppose there's no accounting for taste, is there?" he was quick to add, diplomatically. "Lovely and brainless just does it for some people." Shinobi liked Bobby, no question, but there was no getting around the fact that he was no genius, while Brian unquestionably was. In Braddock's position, he supposed he would have been equally stung by such an outcome.
Then again, vanity had always been a weakness of his. For some reason, he'd always imagined Brian immune to its temptations. Live and learn.
"If that's her decision she's not bright enough for you. DaCosta is not a good life choice. That boy is publicly still morning his girlfriend." Betsy made a disapproving face. "You're much better in every way. Anyone who can't see that isn't worth you."
Brian shook his head a little drained his drink. This room was warmer, now, than it had been earlier. Interesting. There were more people here now, too, which he'd somehow missed. He saw a gaggle of young women, and quickly looked away, back to the bartender for another round.
"Far be it from me to suggest drinking your troubles away is not a valid option," piped up Shinobi, wiggling his glass in the direction of the bartender to indicate his own desire for another round. "And I would be the last one to contradict Betsy's assessment, of course." He nodded in the other Braddock sibling's direction. "But ... perhaps you are concerned you should have fought a bit harder? That, perhaps, your gentlemanly impulses left you ill-equipped to deal with a rival suitor in a manner that might have shifted matters to your favor?"
Betsy glanced at Shinobi, not sure if what he was getting at was helpful.
Brian accepted his glass and took a thoughtful sip. "She can make her own decision," he said rotely. And he believed it, though he believed she'd made the wrong one. "I've given her choices. I don't know that fighting harder is an option."
Unless it was, and he'd somehow failed by not seeing how. "Is it?"
Betsy raised a brow. "It's always an option, unless it turns into stalking."
"Oh, yes," Shinobi agreed. "We mustn't be tacky about it, after all. In any event," he held up his cup in salute and took another drink, "to poor decisions, then."
Brian raised his glass as well, and then drank before looking back towards the floor. Poor decisions, Shinobi had said? There seemed to be plenty of very good - and yet simultaneously very poor - decisions available tonight. And, buoyed by the liquid courage now making its presence known in his veins, Brian was contemplating them more seriously.
"Which poor decision do you lot recommend first?"
Betsy eyed Brian, then Shinobi, then nudged Shinobi. "Your territory. Let's have some sketchy decisions."
"I am going to choose to take that as a compliment," replied the designated Sketchmeister decisively, before allowing his eyes to scan their dim surroundings. The number of patrons present had grown in the relatively short time since they'd arrived, so there was ample opportunity for mischief at hand. His vulpine attentions soon fell upon a clutch of twenty-somethings gathered at the opposite corner of the bar. Plainly, they had come to celebrate ... well, it scarcely mattered--their collective mood was suitably festive. Promising.
"How about we co-opt that party? Seems a good place to begin gathering volunteers for bodyshots."
"Should we really co-opt a party?" Brian asked, raising his eyebrows skeptically.
"Wouldn't that.....wait," the rest of Shinobi's suggestion had this penetrated his slightly sluggish mind. "Body shots?"
"Good boy," Betsy said proudly, clapping her brother on the back. "You take your lessons from our dear friend. I'll turn a blind eye."
"Not too blind, I hope," Shinobi interjected, picking up his newest drink and pushing off the bar, wavering only in the slightest as his legs took on sole responsibility for keeping him upright. "I like to think I have a little something to teach everybody."
"I'd thank you to keep your lessons on body shots to people other than my sister," Brian warmed mildly, though his eyes did not stray from the group of women Shinobi had indicated. "How," he wondered aloud, "do you intend to convince those women to do body shots with us?"
"I'm pretty sure it will simply involve asking. You do realize we're blessed with stunningly good looks? Just don't start talking physics, and all will be well, baby brother."
"Your sister speaks wisely," Shaw added, gesturing grandiosely with his glass. "This is the age of Harry Potter and Princes Harry and William; girls like that waste deplorable amounts of time daydreaming about having a rich, handsome, well-mannered British aristocrat to call her own. Have another drink to drive the last of those physics lessons out of your head for the time being, and we'll begin our sortie."
The idea of going up to a group of women and proposing such an idea made Brian's stomach cringe, but...it also seemed like such a good idea. He downed the rest of his drink quickly, and swallowed nervously. "Right. Okay."
He leaned down to his sister's ear, kissing her cheek and murmuring, "If this goes horribly awry, I may blame you tomorrow."
"And I'll blame Shinobi!" she said cheerfully. She smiled sweetly at Shinobi.
Shinobi's smile was equally saccharine. "And I will be pleased beyond words to play the scapegoat tonight. It is, after all, in furtherance of a worthy cause." Without need for instruction, the bartender rested fresh glasses beside Shaw and Brian. Shinobi scooped his up practically without looking, and pointed grandly in the direction of their targets for the night. "Shall we?"
Brian picked up his own glass and fidgeted slightly. "We shall. I suppose."
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Also I am both intrigued and horrified by the idea of Shinobi writing a novel.