It's a Party, Right?

"R-really? I see four of you and you're all so... beauuuuuti-fuuuuul..." slurred Marco, staggering once more.

"I think he is too," Marco then said, one hand reaching up to the back of his head and lightly slamming it on the counter. For a split second there was visible anger on his face at being betrayed by himself, but the light impact knocked him out and let someone take over. "Thank you for not encouraging him, darling... I'll be taking over from here."

Inside Marco's head there was a short cutscene, as if the people inside him were laying him to rest and wrapping him with blankets.

Marco didn't order another drink, not particularly keen on risking alcohol poisoning in the morning. Instead, he ordered a bit of a perfectly non-alcoholic water. "As much as I'd love to drink more, this child simply can't keep up. He's always been the least tolerant to alcohol among himself."

"Oh, I keep shifting from Marco to Not-Marco is more accurate of a way to word it, my dear. You'll pardon me - us - for switching so much randomly... it's been a long while since our last night out painting the towns, and decades of being in a void dependent on the whim and imagination of a hormonal child does wear on one after quite a while." He sighed and gesticulated fluidly with half-closed hands and eyes as he spoke. The difference between him now and him before he knocked himself out was striking.

Not-Marco leaned forward on the counter, shaking his empty glass of water. "Here's a suggestion darling... how about a nice dinner? Marco needs food, and if you don't know what to do about me - all four and several fractions of me - then maybe we can... work out an answer to that?"

"Don't worry, it doesn't have to right now darling, I can always wait for such a beautiful face," Not-Marco said. He was slightly hungry, but only slightly. It was still tolerable, and the person currently being him was used to hunger. "Of course, I -"

"At some point you're going to have to stop getting in this person's trousers and eat, wench," Not-Marco suddenly said, interrupting himself. Briefly his face went blank as internally, an argument raged.

Hesus, you have ten seconds to apologize and withdraw the scum that just left your tongue or I will curse it off your very soul.

I have had enough of being the irrelevant one -

Earn your relevance, child -

Enough.

As though on cue, Not-Marco stopped being blank and came back with a little smile. "I apologize about that... one of me is currently undergoing some... very harsh lessons."

"How late are you okay with? I - well, we wouldn't want to keep you up too late, darling... don't want to tire that pretty face of yours," Not-Marco said with an innocuous smile, hiding the fact that inside there was currently a little bit of a silent war going on.

Marco, meanwhile, had begun coming back to his senses, a fact that did not escape the other people inside him. While he groggily tried to make sense of the situation, he didn't have much control, and so he was quickly kept out of the loop.

Not-Marco licked his lips. Marco was going to have the night of his life one way or the other, even if he didn't know it yet.