thismaskiwear | A Bar on the Mainland, Thursday Night (Reply)

It was sort of like hunting, if you squinted at it the right way. Actually, Katchoo would be perfectly prepared to argue that any given bar was a sort of hunting ground.

The general concept was pretty much the same, anyhow, at least insofar as one of the two certain bitchy blond Fandom students had in mind tonight; it was something you did when everything was too goddamn &*^@!ing complicated and you had to let off some steam. Beating up on a lump of clay lost its charm pretty quickly, there were too many people who liked the punching bags in the gym, and nobody wanted Katchoo in possession of anything pointy or ballistic when she was in a mood like this anyway.

. . . a bar would be so much better, obviously.

Nonetheless. Bar. Booze. Well away from the island and any stupid squirrels. It was just to let off a little steam, anyway. What could possibly go wrong there?

Arthur	Nothing, that much was obvious. Especially not if that nothing involved a somewhat worried (but don't tell anyone about that) prince who was eying his ale like it was... well, not the holy grail, exactly, but something he was grateful for, none the less. At a slow, reasonable speed of drinking. "At least this bar is lacking in zombies."
Katchoo	"I dunno," Katchoo said, staring into her empty whiskey glass (the third already), flicking the flintwheel on her lighter that she couldn't use because smoking in bars was illegal here, now, and wasn't that just a pain in the ass? "Literal kind, anyway, but the Caritas band's got more pep than half the people in here who aren't lookin' to get laid." Oh, was there a sardonic twist on that last phrase? Nah. It wasn't as if she had any bitterness about other people's sex lives or anything.
Arthur	Arthur brought his ale up to his face, taking a good long sip of it before he even bothered to recognise the fact she'd said anything. There was such a thing as priorities in his life. "Well, the fact that they aren't 'lookin' to get laid'," and didn't that sound weird when he was trying to approximate her accent, "May have something to do with it." He slanted a look at her. Yeah, no bitterness at all, he could tell.
Katchoo	Perfectly obvious, wasn't it? Katchoo signaled the bartender for another drink with a quick look askance at Arthur, a sort of please never try to sound like me again, that was disturbing expression. "'course," she continued after a refill and a swig, "then there's us. Not fitting either category. Things bein' easy? Overrated."
Arthur	Arthur let that look drip off his shoulders. Come on. His own accent was far superior anyway, and it wasn't as if her judgement meant that much to him. He hummed thoughtfully over his drink - a scrap of his own brood seeping on in. So much for pretending to be the cheerful party around here. "Yes," he acquiesced, tapping his finger against the glass. "If things had gone as they should, I imagine my father would be having me entertain some foreign princess right now in a far more reputable establishment." He was so happy about that prospect. Really, it was written across his face.
Katchoo	If he'd ever claimed to be the cheerful party out loud, Katchoo'd have laughed at him. Well. Maybe. "As they should?" she repeated, a dubious snort echoing weirdly into her glass. "Says who? You're not exactly cryin' into your beer over it."
Arthur	He was perfectly capable of being the cheerful party, given the right circumstances. "If things had gone as they should," he said, flicking a look in Katina's direction, "I'd be with my people. That's just a part of what's required of me." Arthur had a knack for making even vague defeatism sound a) arrogant and b) utterly normal. Anyway, it wasn't so bad, now. If things could be made to work out. In those shadowy in-between areas and that had been the whole point of this conversation, right? ...Right. He'd never expected to have Merlin. Before. Turns out potential happiness was a weird thing to get used to.
Katchoo	Katchoo had a irritating way of seeing through pretenses (sometimes), which was nice and hypocritical in a certain light. Grimacing from the burn of a fresh swallow of whiskey, which she was going to blame for this sudden burst of frankness, she asked, "This duty complex you got -- does that really make you happy enough to make up for all the required and expected crap?" Geez. She'd always been so fixated on the stupidity of the idiotic things society expected of women that she'd developed a massive blind spot for the idea that it could go the other way, too. Hell of a time to realize that.
Arthur	It was... a rather frank burst. Arthur kept his eyes set on her for a few moments longer before his fingers curled back around his cup. He raised it up to his face, took a sip, and set it back down. At the tell-tale thud of glass against wood, he spoke. "I don't understand the question."
Katchoo	"Men," Katchoo griped, but it was more of an offhand token comment than honest-to-god complaining. She turned to look at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "There's a point. You can love doing what you do, or you can just do it 'cause you have to, to stay alive, doesn't really matter. Pass that point, and the shitty parts start to drown out the good ones, y'know? Seen it happen before. Seen way too many people with more money and power than God, world at their feet. Rock stars, politicians, CEOs. Ask 'em on the record, they'll tell you it's everything they ever frikkin' wanted to do with their lives. Behind closed doors . . . hell of a different story." It really didn't take a huge stretch of the imagination to picture him at one of Darcy's parties, or give the parties a medieval makeover. It was a stretch Katchoo didn't really want to make, actually. She ran a fingertip around the rim of her glass. "You're a pain in the ass, but not that much of one I'd want to see you end up like 'em, is all I'm saying."
Arthur	"Katina," Arthur said, when she was done speaking and he'd had a finger to poke idly at his cup while he kept his voice light, "I love my people. I love my father." Or... whatever it was, him and his father. "They deserve the best I can give them." A halt, as his finger tipped against the glass again. "They deserve more than that. So, no." He glanced up. "I don't understand the question." His hand flattened out against the table. "What about you? Have anything--" Tap. "Good?"
Katchoo	Katchoo would, she realized with annoyance, keep all that to herself forever and finally run off at the mouth about it to His Royal Uptightness, wouldn't she? "I might," she allowed, with a look that said she didn't quite believe him. "Hell, I ended up in Fandom and found Francine again. They don't make odds that good." Some leather-jacketed guy dropped down into the adjacent stool and jostled her. "Watch it, moron," she snapped over her shoulder, not really looking at him.
Arthur	Arthur, for his part, threw the man a glare over Katina's shoulder, but in a strange and alien moment of respect for her abilities refrained from commenting on it. Instead, the back of the bar caught most of his attention again, and he raised his glass. "So how's Francine..." Disturbing presence or not, this conversation was liable to turn awkward if it swung back onto him, and so he stopped right where he stood, there.
Katchoo	Yeah, Katchoo felt like she'd hinted at enough, herself. "You know her pretty well by now," she pointed out, draining the glass and slamming it down just hard enough to jostle the guy behind her right back. "How can having someone like that around not be a good thing?"
Arthur	Arthur studied her. Then shrugged. "Seems to leave you in a bit of a state," he said, idly. "Not that it's any business for anyone to mind." He cleared his throat to chase away the sound of any metaphorical closet doors creaking in his head, and spared a momentary thought to her balance instead.
Katchoo	Metaphorical. Uh huh. "I'm used to it," Katchoo answered; he wasn't the only one who could try to put a shine on defeatism. "Geez," she added as the guy behind her leaned back and gave her a shove, "would you knock it the hell off already?"
Arthur	All right. So much for letting her deal with it. "You heard the--" Pause. "--Katina," Arthur segued that one, neatly. "You will lay off. Now." Not that violence, or at least disturbance, was a relief in the face of any metaphorical anything that might have been bouncing around.
Katchoo	"I'm not doing jack," the guy complained as Katchoo raised an amused eyebrow at Arthur's little segue, then grunted when he elbowed her again. "Like hell," she shot back, and . . . nailed him in the ribs with her own elbow, hard. Yes. That was smart, Katchoo. "That ain't jack, pal." Oh, who needed smart right now? She was buzzed and sitting on months' worth of mostly-repressed frustration. There was no room left for smart in this equation, which was why, when he turned around on the stool and made a move to shove her, she grabbed hold of his wrist and twisted, hard. Possibly not an approved use of the judo moves Ghanima had gone over during Fight Club, but pfft.
Arthur	"Katina," Arthur said, sharply, shoving his mug of ale away from himself, his body automatically settling into something defensive but potent, ready to fight if this got any worse than it was.
Katchoo	It was going to get worse, mostly because the guy had just called Katchoo a goddamned whore. You'd think, given her own impressive stock of insults, something that conventional would just roll off her back, but she let out an incoherent snarl and wrenched his arm harder. "Bitch," he spat, and twisted around to aim a punch at her solar plexus. The hit landed, and Katchoo expelled a loud whuff of breath. Then, since smart was a concept that had gone right out the window anyway, threw all her weight into him to slam him against the bar.
Arthur	"Katina!" he repeated. Nevermind a bloody fighting stance, this was a time to be a peacekeeper. Of a kind. But he wasn't going to go into the specifics. She was a woman, fighting, alone, and vicious at that; instinct powered him, launching himself forwards with desperate intent to grab and restrain her. Sadly enough, years of experience with Morgana's increasing teenage rebellion had made it... rather a familiar position to be in.
Katchoo	"What?" asked Katchoo, who felt justified by the elbow to the ribs she took. And the conversation with Francine earlier today. And that irritating, weird girl from Ethics this morning, among other things. Justified in trying to smash the guy's head into the bar itself, specifically, and send a half-full beer bottle spinning into a pyramid of glasses with a spectacular shattering sound. That might be difficult what with Arthur suddenly holding her back, but damn if she didn't give it a try anyway. The shattering got accomplished, at least; it hadn't been her arm that knocked the bottle flying. Shame about the cops already making their way across the bar.
Arthur	"Stand down," he said, careful not to hiss but to sound-- well, calming, really, and maybe more than a bit authoritative - as he began to pull, and fought the urge to duck at the sudden noise. "Before you cause a--" ...Ruckus, he might have said, or disturbance, but that's about when he caught sight of the knights coming their way, and it occurred to him that tonight might demand more of him than the mere ability to hold his liquor. Like diplomacy. "...Good evening." You try being that composed whilst restraining a hysterical blonde.
Katchoo	"GOOD, MY ASS. LET GO OF ME, YOU UPTIGHT -- OW!" Katchoo would object to that description, had she not been trying to simultaneously get free of Arthur and crack Random Jerkass Guy's head one more time. The other unfortunate side effect was that she wasn't in a position to be entertained by the hilarity that was probably about to ensue. "Evening," said one of the cops, the slightest quirk of one eyebrow the only outward indication that she thought anything about Arthur's manner was strange. Her partner was less taciturn. "So, this must be the reason for that disturbance call," he remarked with a glance at Katchoo. "STUPID SON OF A (@$!(^%*!" . . . that was probably a clear confirmation of his guess.
Arthur	"Katina, that's not a manner befitting a--" Okay, pointing that out might upset her further, and while Arthur did delight in messing with her on occasion (except he never did, it was all clearly deserved) riling her up would help no one. "Quiet." He smiled his polite I'm-a-prince-can-you-point-me-to-the-facilities-please-and-thank-you-kindly smile (which was not so much a smile as a slight twitch of his mouth) at the both of them. "We were about to leave," he said, "She's had a bit of a fit--" He struggled for a reason for it. Something... from this century. "--A mental condition that sometimes acts up when she's had a few. I apologise for the disturbance she's caused." While gripping her arm very, very firmly.
Katchoo	Yes, actually. Finishing that sentence would've been amazingly like, as David Bowie might say, putting out a fire with gasoline. "A mental condition," the second cop repeated as the first started reaching for the handcuffs at her belt. "Man, if we haven't heard that one a million times before." Katchoo, by this point, had stopped yelling in favor of glowering at the cops like the sheer baleful force of her glare would convince them to back away. Which did not mean she wasn't trying to tug her arm loose with no success at all. As the male police officer moved over to check on Random Jerkass Guy and his possible concussion, the female officer gestured at him with the hand that wasn't holding handcuffs. "Mental condition or not, there's half a dozen people in here tonight who'll say they saw her assaulting him. At least."
Arthur	Arthur exhaled. There were moments where this idea of democratic process and people not accepting such simple explanations as 'she's merely a madwoman and we'll be treating her somewhere else' were very, very inconvenient. "Epilepsy," he supplied, finally coming up with the word. "I'm not denying that she's assaulted someone--" Oh, bugger it. "--but there's no need to restrain her. Which authority is to decide her fate?" Well, no restraining he wasn't fully capable of doing, as he nudged Katina ever so slightly down in a desperate attempt to calm her completely.
Katchoo	Actually, the way Katchoo's jaw was starting to twitch with the effort of keeping it the hell shut? You could possibly mistake that for an epileptic symptom. The female cop looked at Arthur like it was almost cute how formal he was about what must have been his first bar fight situation, but nice try, it wasn't going to get his twitchy friend off the hook. "Safety measure," she explained calmly, snapping one cuff around Katchoo's free wrist; she got a tiny muffled growl for her trouble, but no further verbal outburst. "Can't have her hurting herself in the back of the squad car if she has another, erm, fit, can we? She'll have to come down to the station with us." Katchoo ground her teeth audibly. Crap crap crap.
Arthur	It was by far and away not Arthur's first bar fight situation - he'd gotten into plenty of them himself, nevermind how rowdy knights could get if you poured enough wine into them (which had in fact prompted a stern lecture or two from Arthur on what was and wasn't acceptable behaviour, and cooled heels in the dungeons, but let's not go into that) and so it was probably best for everyone involved that she didn't voice that thought aloud. "Listen, it was just a momentary infraction-- surely, there's got to be something--" He let go of Katina with a look that was part apology and part what in the name of god is wrong with you, although how much of that went to waste by the fact that he was facing her back was... well, your mileage may vary. He sighed. "When will she be released?" He wasn't about to look forward to actually seeing the face of... someone he knew... behind bars again.
Katchoo	Yes, best for everyone involved, on multiple levels. A couple of firefighters had entered the bar now to check up on Random And Bleeding Jerkass with a first-aid kit in hand and a gurney waiting by the door just in case, so the other cop picked up the question. "Tomorrow," he said as his partner tested Katchoo's handcuffs. "'less you wanna post bail, and then she'd just have to show up in court later." Katchoo still didn't say anything, but she'd just gone really pale, much like her knuckles when her cuffed hands tensed up into fists.
Arthur	He... knew a few things, about the local legal system. He'd tried to read up on it, at least - hadn't fully memorised everything, but everything was a great deal. Not for the first time, Arthur hoped they'd return home before it would become necessary for him to know the entire 'penal code', and Katina wasn't helping on that front. His eyes flicked to her once, but that was all; now was not the time to deal with her. "You are going to take her to court?" he asked, with less decisiveness than he would have liked - if anything, the sentence wavered at the end with some uncertainty as to whether that was the right conclusion.
Katchoo	The female cop nodded briefly. "Unless, for some reason, no one decides to press charges for what your little friend here got up to." Katchoo, all tension and slouched shoulders from this angle, snorted. What were the odds of that? Come on.
Arthur	There was a beat of absolutely no response at all. "Right," Arthur said, sounding decidedly more cheerful about the whole thing. "Thank you. I'll be by the station in a bit."
Katchoo	That part didn't surprise Katchoo at all; Arthur was a pain in her ass, yes, but she thought she had a good enough read on him to know that leaving her hanging wasn't even a question. It didn't surprise her, either, that she wanted to laugh when it sounded like he'd actually perked up there. The massive internal freakout over police stations and criminal records wasn't a surprise, nor was hoping this didn't get back to Francine, though all this was grounds for kicking herself a hell of a lot. Nah. The weird part, as she got hustled out of the bar and into the back of a squad cruiser, was feeling embarrassed about this. Because -- what the hell? Either way, Katchoo cast one quick no-that-wasn't-frightened-you're-delusional glance at Arthur over her shoulder, and didn't look at him again until they'd slammed the police car door shut behind her.