[ Knickers, really? It made him smile, though. By the time H shows up, Peter has somehow acquired a bottle of...something. The alcohol is blue and purple, and taste like gin and blueberry, and it's great. ]
H, my man! I cheer to that...I didn't want to have to drag your sorry ass to the nearest hospital. I don't think they have those here.
How in the hell can they not have hospitals here? People get injured in space just as well as anyone.
[ A beat, a pause. He reassesses. ]
Actually. Any medical attention they have probably... won't apply to humans, now that I think about it. So. What d'you have there?
[ H isn't quite drunk yet -- he's stayed merrily tipsy instead -- but there's a curious glint in his eye as he catches sight of the bottle Peter's carting around. ]
Because people comes here to have fun, not to think about their well being. It's not exactly a planet suited for the faint of heart. There's probably doctors somewhere but I wouldn't trust their abilities or the quality of their tools. Whe're pretty close to another colony with better facilities, I'm sure they'll have a hospital there for all your sanitary needs.
[ But good point on the human doctor things. Peter makes a face and then gives a nods. ]
Better not to think about it. [ He sees the look in H's eyes and grins, wrapping an arm around the blond's shoulders but not yet handling him the bottle. ] Me? Oh, nothing, just a bit of Ambrostine. Ever tried that one?
Hm. I haven't, no, although I've heard it's strong as hell—
[ He twists within that companionable sling of Peter's arm, craning his head to get a better look at the notorious bottle. It's hard to get a hold of, enough that even with all his proclivities and playing fast-and-loose with alien drugs and liquor, he hasn't actually tried it yet. If they'd been on Earth, he was even supposed to report its very presence to the authorities as contraband. Technically. Agent H hasn't followed the regulations to the letter for a while, though. ]
On a scale of 1-10, how much will this fuck us up?
[ He's grinning, though, which means he clearly doesn't mind. ]
Uhm...12? It IS safe for human consumption. It won't melt our inside or anything, but I've heard it does make people feel funny. And relaxed.
[ Peter takes a sip of the bottle, tipping his head back, the column of his throat visible for a few seconds. He pauses after that, blinking at the taste in his mouth and then smiling at H and offering him the bottle. ]
See? I didn't explode or anything and the taste is great. Give it a try as we walk back to the ship.
Yeah, but you're also not exactly human, as you're so fond of reminding me. Your digestive system is not my digestive system. Me, I'm weak and frail and horribly mortal. [ He takes the bottle, swings it up to take a deep swig — and the strength of the alien liquor hits him like a blow, right in the chest, driving the breath out of his lungs. ]
God. You weren't kidding. That's strong but delicious.
[ As they trade sips of the bottle and start heading back to the ship, there's already a slight cheerful wobble in H's step. ]
I'm not but I don't have any power left now. He doesn't think that his genetic would make him immune to cursed alcohol. They sure never helped my hangovers before.
[ He smiles brightly when H takes the bottle form him, in a way that scream 'TOLD YOU SO, FRIEND'. ]
See? I wouldn't lie to you. [ It's a slow and slightly uncoordinated walk to the ship, passing the bottle around among them, but the ship is still in one piece when they get there and Peter considers it a win. He's even more cheerful and relaxed than a few minutes before if such a thing is possible. ]
Hmmm...we should do these things more often. [ His arm is once again around H's shoulders but he can't remember when he put it there. It's comfy and his faces are close, so Peter isn't moving it. ] You are busy too often. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy...
[ He'd started answering lazily, automatically, but he cuts himself off sharply with a kind of horrified laugh. The liquor's taken a harder hit than he realised. They're not supposed to have names anymore. Filed off along with their fingerprints. ] Christ. That would've been bad. I'm not supposed to. I would've had to neuralyse you if I'd said, and trust me, you don't want that. Not a pleasant experience all around. Speaking from personal experience.
[ Peter gave him a sympathetic smile after the awkward confession and even ran his finger through the back of H's short hair. It calms him down when people do that so maybe it worked for his friend. ]
Kinda suck that you can't tell me but I get it. We all got our secrets and stuff.
[ 'And stuff', how very eloquent. Peter would have kicked himself if he weren't feeling relaxed and without a care in the world. ]
Does it hurt, the whole neuralysing thing? Wait...personal experience?
[ Despite himself, H leaned into the touch as they sauntered towards the ship with arms slung around each others' shoulders. It's... nice. Just a human touch, a piece of normal intimacy. The agency had scoured their lives empty, discouraged all relationships, so it could be lonely; no wonder H kept gravitating to all those impulsive flings. And his friendships, like this one with Quill, were even rarer and more precious for it. ]
Mm. I don't think it does. Or I mean, if it does, nobody can remember to say, can they? So maybe it doesn't matter. [ A small laugh. Maybe a little nervous. And then to Peter's question... ]
It, uh. I shouldn't say. [ Another swig of the drink, and oh no but the ambrostine really is quite strong. Very strong. It loosens H up, makes him a little less worried about those ironclad NDAs he signed, so in the end he continues: ]
Well. I mean, it happened to me once. Wasn't supposed to.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Knickers, really? It made him smile, though. By the time H shows up, Peter has somehow acquired a bottle of...something. The alcohol is blue and purple, and taste like gin and blueberry, and it's great. ]
H, my man! I cheer to that...I didn't want to have to drag your sorry ass to the nearest hospital. I don't think they have those here.
no subject
[ A beat, a pause. He reassesses. ]
Actually. Any medical attention they have probably... won't apply to humans, now that I think about it. So. What d'you have there?
[ H isn't quite drunk yet -- he's stayed merrily tipsy instead -- but there's a curious glint in his eye as he catches sight of the bottle Peter's carting around. ]
no subject
[ But good point on the human doctor things. Peter makes a face and then gives a nods. ]
Better not to think about it. [ He sees the look in H's eyes and grins, wrapping an arm around the blond's shoulders but not yet handling him the bottle. ] Me? Oh, nothing, just a bit of Ambrostine. Ever tried that one?
no subject
[ He twists within that companionable sling of Peter's arm, craning his head to get a better look at the notorious bottle. It's hard to get a hold of, enough that even with all his proclivities and playing fast-and-loose with alien drugs and liquor, he hasn't actually tried it yet. If they'd been on Earth, he was even supposed to report its very presence to the authorities as contraband. Technically. Agent H hasn't followed the regulations to the letter for a while, though. ]
On a scale of 1-10, how much will this fuck us up?
[ He's grinning, though, which means he clearly doesn't mind. ]
no subject
[ Peter takes a sip of the bottle, tipping his head back, the column of his throat visible for a few seconds. He pauses after that, blinking at the taste in his mouth and then smiling at H and offering him the bottle. ]
See? I didn't explode or anything and the taste is great. Give it a try as we walk back to the ship.
no subject
God. You weren't kidding. That's strong but delicious.
[ As they trade sips of the bottle and start heading back to the ship, there's already a slight cheerful wobble in H's step. ]
no subject
[ He smiles brightly when H takes the bottle form him, in a way that scream 'TOLD YOU SO, FRIEND'. ]
See? I wouldn't lie to you. [ It's a slow and slightly uncoordinated walk to the ship, passing the bottle around among them, but the ship is still in one piece when they get there and Peter considers it a win. He's even more cheerful and relaxed than a few minutes before if such a thing is possible. ]
Hmmm...we should do these things more often. [ His arm is once again around H's shoulders but he can't remember when he put it there. It's comfy and his faces are close, so Peter isn't moving it. ] You are busy too often. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy...
no subject
[ He'd started answering lazily, automatically, but he cuts himself off sharply with a kind of horrified laugh. The liquor's taken a harder hit than he realised. They're not supposed to have names anymore. Filed off along with their fingerprints. ] Christ. That would've been bad. I'm not supposed to. I would've had to neuralyse you if I'd said, and trust me, you don't want that. Not a pleasant experience all around. Speaking from personal experience.
no subject
[ Peter gave him a sympathetic smile after the awkward confession and even ran his finger through the back of H's short hair. It calms him down when people do that so maybe it worked for his friend. ]
Kinda suck that you can't tell me but I get it. We all got our secrets and stuff.
[ 'And stuff', how very eloquent. Peter would have kicked himself if he weren't feeling relaxed and without a care in the world. ]
Does it hurt, the whole neuralysing thing? Wait...personal experience?
no subject
Mm. I don't think it does. Or I mean, if it does, nobody can remember to say, can they? So maybe it doesn't matter. [ A small laugh. Maybe a little nervous. And then to Peter's question... ]
It, uh. I shouldn't say. [ Another swig of the drink, and oh no but the ambrostine really is quite strong. Very strong. It loosens H up, makes him a little less worried about those ironclad NDAs he signed, so in the end he continues: ]
Well. I mean, it happened to me once. Wasn't supposed to.