"On the provision that there is no outside help for either party at all," Izzy follows up. Feeling like that is a very important caveat.
Lucius knows a fair few aboard and could easily employ their knowledge. This needs to be a fair fight or what would be the point of it.
Only when his condition is met does he hold out his hand, only just managing not to spit on it before as is the old way. Somehow he doesn't think Lucius would like that very much and to be honest, Izzy can't blame him. It's kinda gross.
"Agreed. A fair fight it is," Lucius says and takes Izzy's hand. Or, well, he tries but he swings wide for the dramatic effect, misses, and has to try again. He get it on the second pass, mostly, catches him by the elbow and has to ladder it back, but the meaning is the same.
"Right, that's settled now--what...what were we doing before that?" Lucius asks and stares. Drinking, yes, but--fuck was he doing laundry?
"Was I doing laundry? Hell, I should. I should check that."
"Oh good," Lucius heaves a sigh as he glances back at the folded clothes. "I tell you, I left a waistcoat and stockings in there after they'd finished, thinking aye, they're dry yeah?"
He grimaces as he strides, swaying a bit, to fetch the load by the door.
"Don't. The wrinkles that set in are a nightmare." He hoists the basket up and then, as he has it as his hip, remembers--
"Oh! Come along then, got to show you the hot tubs and the bar. Can't go giving me a day advantage, can you?"
An excellent point that he really should have thought of himself, if only he weren't so fucking sozzled. Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and immediately braces his hand against the wall, letting out a bark of surprise.
He'd thought he was fine until exactly now. Drunk, yes, but he'd been still and sitting with the illusion that he was carrying the liquor rather well on an early morning empty stomach.
He has not.
"Oh fuck," a deep breath. No, no he's okay. He's fine, he can do this. Izzy pushes off the wall with swaying determination to follow. There's a mission, now. By God he'll manage. Probably.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Lucius knows a fair few aboard and could easily employ their knowledge. This needs to be a fair fight or what would be the point of it.
Only when his condition is met does he hold out his hand, only just managing not to spit on it before as is the old way. Somehow he doesn't think Lucius would like that very much and to be honest, Izzy can't blame him. It's kinda gross.
no subject
"Right, that's settled now--what...what were we doing before that?" Lucius asks and stares. Drinking, yes, but--fuck was he doing laundry?
"Was I doing laundry? Hell, I should. I should check that."
no subject
Yeah what were they doing. He was reading. That plan is now firmly out the fucking window.
"It's by the door."
no subject
He grimaces as he strides, swaying a bit, to fetch the load by the door.
"Don't. The wrinkles that set in are a nightmare." He hoists the basket up and then, as he has it as his hip, remembers--
"Oh! Come along then, got to show you the hot tubs and the bar. Can't go giving me a day advantage, can you?"
no subject
An excellent point that he really should have thought of himself, if only he weren't so fucking sozzled. Izzy pulls himself up with a grunt and immediately braces his hand against the wall, letting out a bark of surprise.
He'd thought he was fine until exactly now. Drunk, yes, but he'd been still and sitting with the illusion that he was carrying the liquor rather well on an early morning empty stomach.
He has not.
"Oh fuck," a deep breath. No, no he's okay. He's fine, he can do this. Izzy pushes off the wall with swaying determination to follow. There's a mission, now. By God he'll manage. Probably.
"You're going to ruin me."
no subject