[CW: the use of alcohol as a coping mechanism]

The evening was cold and dark, and it was because of that that it was perhaps a bit surprising that Anthony was roaming around on the streets. After the initial euphoria had worn off and the reality of the new situation he had found himself in had truly set in, he found himself...anxious, scared, nervous, terrified. Though his fear was perhaps irrational—there was nothing to be afraid of, he won't be hurt or anything, this time is different and he's different—there are some things you just can't shake off and that undying fear was one of them. It was because of this that he was out here instead of at his or Elijah's place—he was afraid, didn't want to bother Elijah by breaking down in front of him, and so figured that he'll just go out and do what he does best whenever he's a nervous wreck who needs to be calmed the fuck down. That is, drink.

After having spent more time than was wise on said activity, and finding himself sufficiently drunk so that he forgets all his worries (temporarily, at least—but that's all that Anthony wanted right now), Anthony left the pub he was so very attached to by now, returning back onto the cold and perhaps dangerous streets. Carefully placing one foot in front of the other, absolutely certain that he is doing an amazing job with feigning sobriety, Anthony walked—mostly unsure of his destination, but figuring that he'll probably end up at home anyways. Whatever could happen to such a reckless, defenseless, vulnerable and foolish man?

What was the most reassuring sight a drunk, physically unimposing man could come across in this state? A rainfall of rose petals? One lone, friendly cat brushing gently by him? A fancy lady's dropped purse, just spilling out with sovereigns?

These were none of the things ahead of Anthony. Instead, down the road walked a giant of a man, heads taller and broader than him. Glasses glinted in the lamplight, and his steps slowed.

Ropati worked with alcohol. He had made a point in his life to not make a living out of something he might love, and wine just happened to pack into that part of his life. It also took far more than economically feasible to get to this stumbling young man's state. Alas.

Did this fellow even know where he was headed? Whose estate sale had he gotten that ... unique choice of attire from?

"Excuse me," he called from a safe distance, hands in his pockets. "Do you know where the inn is?"

His master plan of getting drunk as hell was extremely effective, whether for better or for worse. Walking on the street in the evenimg while terribly intoxicated did tend to turn out worse than anticipated, more often than not, but Anthony didn't seem to worry too much about all that nonsense, a bit too caught up with...something. Trying not to trip over his own feet, most likely.

It was only when he heard someone calling out that he actually refocused his attention to something else, and that something else happened to be some absolute fucking giant of a guy who looked as if he couls pick Anthony up with one hand and yeah he's fairly sure now that he's going to get beaten up. Maybe he would be less paranoid like this were he in an actually acceptable state, but, oh well. 

Anthony just stared at the man for a solid half a minute before responding. "Ye— no."

He watched the glassy-eyed look with a forced smile. Oh, goodness. This man might drown in his own vomit if left to his own devices.

"Yehno," he repeated in a friendly, not-drunk tone, though he enunciated his words more. "It sounds like a fantastic-... great, a great inn. Show me there."

Anthony furrowed his brow in thought. Was he being mocked? Is this man mocking him?

"Why should I?" Anthony asked, in a surprisingly intelligible but still obviously very drunk tone. He will not just...give in to this man's demands like that. He demands a reason for being bothered like this.

He paused.

"Ah. A philosophical question."

Sober enough to be spiky? Maybe his death wouldn't be on Ropati's hands.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

"No, it isn't." Anthony crossed his arms. He is absolutely certain he is being mocked, now.

The smile faltered.

"Ah."

Awkward silence.

"Do you ... know where you're going, sir?"

Anthony stared very intently at the man.

And then glanced away, thinking very hard about that question.

"No." Anthony was silent for a moment, then. "What's it to you?"

There was something slightly crazed about this young man. The smart thing to do probably would have been walking faster, but, well, here he was.

"Rather unnecessary to freeze to death out here," he shrugged. "... In my opinion."

After all, this fellow seemed like he had a lot of opinions. Then again, so did a lot of people in varying states of non-sobriety.