<span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="font-family:Open Sans">“Don't worry, you won't find any pity here. We're all a little fucked up, I think, for one reason or another,” Vasyli told him when he made a comment about his life sounding sad. The unsympathetic attitude in the circus was something Vasyli actually enjoyed. They had something now at least, and probably more than most. <br/>
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“Knowing Mathis, I'm less inclined to believe a word he says about anyone. He plays to the crowd.” Vasyli knew that firsthand, having how he was portrayed for example. He would have preferred one or the other, maybe, but not sexualized <i>and </i>submissive. <br/>
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“It's decent. Likely some fermented swill they concoct in the back. Owner said fruit, and so that's what I shall believe,” Vasyli told him, “cut with a little sweet syrup.” He played up a scandalized, halfway offended look at the notion that he was trying to liquor Kevice up. It changed to something more akin to amusement. <br/>
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“I can't let you be entirely to blame. At least if I'm feeling it tomorrow, I'll have an excuse to be foul-tempered.” Kevice offered a sort of trade, though Vasyli hadn't expected he'd continue drinking alone given the option for company. He wasn't that pitiful. Vasyli was sitting more upright, and he set one cup down, ran his hand along one of the cords and picked up the mouthpiece. He didn't think much of it, assuming it was some sort of tobacco, but not assuming it would be mind-altering in any sort of way. The flavors were fine. He liked bitter more than sweet, but he still wasn't sure why some might enjoy the taste. An acquired sort of thing he guessed, something he'd tolerate for the experience. He didn't want Kevice teasing him for refusing. He hadn't come along to be as close minded as everyone assumed, going the extra mile to <i>try</i>. <br/>
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“I do it simply for the entertainment value,” he told Kevice dry and sarcastic. He poured the second glass full of the liquor, sliding it along to his companion for the evening. <br/>
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“Osran is a pretentious ass. Not rumor of course, but well-known fact.” Vasyli shrugged. “He hasn't been doing this as long as he lets on. No business doing some of the things that he does. No,” he corrected “no business doing what he does with me.” At least when Vasyli started, he figured things out on his own and only put himself in danger. Not that they pushed themselves past their limits during the actual act. Practice was for trying new things without so much risk. When they lowered the equipment they chanced bruises and not broken necks should something go wrong. <br/>
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“He's sloppy, and it pisses me off that I've worked at it as long as I have, and he gets to sweep in and perform on my level simply because he's charismatic. I've earned more bruises practicing with him than even in my trial and error years.” He deserved a little bit of what Vasyli dished out, not that Osran seemed to care. The more riled the elf got, the more enjoyment the human seemed to take from the experience.<br/>
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“Be happy that you get to perform alone still, and no one intrudes upon your craft. All of that is why I am angry.” Of course, Vasyli didn't want to let on that it also had something to do with him playing the love interest to a human.</span></span>