It's a Party, Right?

Marco Petrucci

"Haunted sorta describes it," Marco said, taking another shot. Drinking felt to him sort of like conversation - the more he had, the easier it was to have more. And the more of either he had, the less coherent he was. "See, when I die, I stay around and haunt myself. So we're all having this annoying timeshare because I just stick around."

A frown formed on his alcohol-reddened face and he slightly aggressively pointed at Mina. "I don't cut myself. That wasn't literal. Not for lack of trying. I stop me when I try to do anything to me. All of me wakes up and then takes control and then I stop."

Finally, Marco found that he'd ran out of whiskey and landed at that sweet spot where he was uninhibited but unaware of it. Quickly, he raised his hand and ordered another drink. It came in record time, which made him crack a grin while in the back of his head he could hear a very deep voice that very rarely came up muttering about his budget. "You know, these drinks make you look beautiful."

He tried to grin and ended up slamming his head lightly on the bar. The impact knocked him out for a brief moment, and someone else took over when "Marco" snapped back to reality. "He's not wrong, you know. I haven't met someone who looked as nice as you in a while, but as much as I'd love to flirt, darling, that's not what I'm here for. I'm one of his 'darkness'... es? Whatever the plural of that is. I'm just here to say - he's a good kid, for all his stupidity. Never letting him hear that though."

Marco looked into the glass, at his reflection, as if he were looking at some sort of picture, and then put it back down. "For as long as you're interacting with him, think you could keep an eye on him? We're doing what we can from inside, but there are some things we can't do from in there. From out here, on the other hand..."

Marco - or whoever was Marco at the moment - laughed, and leaned with one arm against the bar and one had expertly nursing a glass of whiskey. "Oh, that's precious. You're the sort I've never really had the pleasure of meeting back in my day. I remember old Doran was like you when he was growing up... and even when his head was lopped off clean. Remember that, Doran, dear?"

Marco's expression shifted into something a little more flat. "Mhm."

Once again it was back to the smile, and the disarming sense of expertise he suddenly held in interaction. Where his default state was confused and lost, it was as if he suddenly had a map to the art of talking and communicating. "I was a silent man in the past, if you couldn't tell."

He - or she - put up the glass and drained it smooth, fluidly asking for another drink at the bar while leaning in a little closer. "But enough about me. Tell me more about you," Marco said, and his eyes subtly sharpened a little bit before he - or she - added, "my lovely inhuman."

Marco laughed, his unfittingly soft laugh echoing through nothing in the slightest. "You're really forthcoming about inhumanity, hmm? Not many would admit to that. Or has the world changed since I was last here?"

"Iulia, the world's always been the same sack of excrement it's always been with all the debauchery and base cruelty -"

"Hesus, be a dear and admit that you were simply too much of a mewling quim to ever taste the good life."

As if conversing with someone, Marco shook his head disappointedly and cleanly finished his drink. Marco was still asleep inside Marco, and right now, Marco was having a field day being able to run Marco again.

Being Marco made pronouns hell.

Marco left his empty glass on the counter. Marco was going to be having one hell of a hangover in the morning, but if Marco could do anything about it, that hangover was going to be worth it. "So, dearie bartender, how about you pour both of us another drink - hit me with another brandy - and we talk a little more about inhumanity?"

"Oh no, by all means, feel free... it's not like this conversation's between humans anyway. Marco's... well, I was human before but everyone that came after me wasn't." Marco drank again, this time only half-emptying the glass. Even if "Marco" could handle the drinking, Marco physically couldn't.

"Oh, he can, don't worry," said Marco in a different manner, this time gruff and seemingly bitter over something. Had Mina some way to see inside, she'd be able to tell that Iulia was currently fixing her nonexistent dress, which left Hesus in control for a bit. "We've been sneaking bits and pieces of his money into an account he doesn't know he has. It's our little ancestral hedge fund."

"Hesus, your time's up."

"I haven't even had a drink -"

"You and I both know that if you drink and attempt to talk to a lady at the same time things end miserably. Doran, help me wrest him out, darling."

"Ok."

Marco stood soundlessly for a while, staring blankly into the distance until some semblance of life crawled back into his eyes. "I'm sorry about that," he said, once again in that smooth tone. "Let's pick up where we left off, dear. How about you tell me more about why you, an inhuman - a powerful one I'm guessing - ended up here having a drink with me, an ancient heretic?"

"Oh, but none of us are human, dear... even if poor Marco won't admit it. That child... he puts too much value on humanity. It's why we play along with his quest of attempting to purge us, even if we know it won't actually work. A child has to have a reason to hope, no?"

Marco took another sip, and then smiled. "Speaking of. I'm sorry to cut this short darling, but Marco's waking up."

Briefly, his eyes blanked out again, and then came back to life. He staggered as he did so, unaware of how to process that much alcohol in his system. After all, amongst himself, he was the one with the least tolerance.

"Whu - what happened..? Wh - hey pretty girl have we met before or is it just me... oh, and there's two of you! Ht- htat's nice. Hi. I'm Maaaaarco."

Marco slurred and laid his hand on the counter with a grin, which gave way almost instantly. He didn't fall over this time though, managing to recover at the last second.