&&.

             “ MATE, please, ” Atlas complained, in the ‘  c o m e   o n  ’ sort of way after spitting his drink in laughter due to watching the boy’s supermodel act. “ If you’re gonna’ be that bait, grease yourself up first, set up some cameras for dem insta shots, init, Adonis?? ” His eyes flickered up to the cut, and Atlas laughed again. “ You’ll be right, lad, leave the wand. This’ll put some pep in your step, ” he assured, and discreetly slipped a small bag of white powder into Kiran’s palm.

                “ Mate, that is fucking off, that is, ” Atlas chucked, catching Dom by the waist to stabilise her, before releasing. “ Come den, princess Weez, you ain’t seen a savage lad play just yet. ” He set up another game with surprising sufficiency ( considering his already sloshed state, ) and positioned himself at the opposite end with a wide, amused grin. “ If I win, you owe me a drink. If you win, you owe me a drink. Deal?? ”

Atlas: is that about right?

Atlas: mate please let me in on it cos i'm fucked if i remember

“Aye, try is about all we can do, innit?” Or not. Atlas didn’t really give a fuck as long as he was decently sloshed and or high off something ( /anything. )  The war was as irrelevant to him as his sobriety: he had no interest in pursuing neither. ( At least, that was the reasoning he’d have people believe. ) Apparently the reach of it hadn’t missed her, the blonde before him: the momentary discouragement flitting across her face not flying over his head. Like Petra, he thought. Willing to fight for a cause. Suddenly, Atlas found himself looking at the girl in a much more warm light. “This princess earns points for trying —- I’ve known lesser lads over thirty to shy away after just a whiff. Stick with ya’ pumpkin juice, I won’t judge.” He pocketed the flask. 

“Just so happens that she’s pestering me as we speak, sweets. Does a lad even consider it pestering when said bird happens to be so lovely that he doesn’t mind a bit? Said lad is obviously in rather deep with our aforementioned lass, ain’ he? Poor sod.” Atlas shifted an arm to rub lazily at the side of his jaw, “I dunno. She’d have to tell tell me if she is or isn’t. I hope so.” 

“Numbers are dwindling, though, aren’t they? Neutrality and good times both seem out this year.” Atlas laughed loudly. “Oh, princess, you got another thing coming if you think whatever you’re on is strong. Lucky I’m both the bragging and sharing type, then, aye?” He dug into his pockets and produced a small, black flask which was discreetly extended to the blonde. “Bottoms up.”

“Depends, my Pet. See, I’d have half a mind to let myself be pestered on account of how lovely the bird doing the pestering is. Then again, I could just divulge, and oblige said bird’s wishes —- make her happy an’ that. What say you, kid?” 

His features washed over in amusement the more she spoke. “Aye, gotcha’,” he nodded, lowering his voice to humour her, “colour me impressed, then. I thought everyone here was drinking straight. But I’ll still leave you to y’pumpkin juice. Not to brag, but I think what I’m packing is bound to be stronger, girl.” 

“I can think of funner ways to hydrate yourself than fucking pumpkin juice, love. And trust, I won’t be trying to sneak the stuff off you any time soon.”

Atlas chucked once. At this point, he couldn’t even deduce whether he’d care if someone were to rat him out or not between his hazy thoughts. “Agreed,” he nodded, anyways. “You turning back in now, then, Lily? The walk back’s a long one, innit. Fancy a companion? I lost Petra a few hours back.”

[ atlas: ] tell drina i fucked up