theroleplaybin | Let's get a little day drunk

At first, the door just opened a crack as Wembley peered out - that hadn't been a very happy-sounding knock - but when he saw who'd come by, his expression shifted from timid to just... Vaguely puzzled.

"Hi, Uncle Scrooge... Hi, Gobo?"

The response from Gobo had been an enthusiastic cry of Wembley's name. The response from Scrooge, less so.

"This," and he held the Fraggle out, "is your problem now."

Wembley tilted his head to one side, though confused as he was, he still held his arms out so Scrooge could deposit Gobo into them... Since apparently holding Gobo was what was going on right now.

"Problem?" he echoed, blinking twice.

Once the deposit was made, Scrooge brushed his hands off.

"Aye, problem. Do you know what alcohol is? Because Gobo got into mine."

Well, that explained the smell... Wembley nodded as he struggled to keep Gobo propped upright. "Yeah, I do. That stuff's bad for you, though - is Gobo going to be okay?"

"Alcohol is fine, if someone enjoys it in moderation. This," and he poked Gobo in the shoulder, who giggled, "is not moderation. But, he'll be fine, given a day or so, though he'll be acting quite different in the meantime. I wager he'll have one whopper o' a headache in the morning, and he might be quite ill feeling, but it'll pass."

He sighed through his nostrils, still feeling some sort of responsibility. Curse his gentler nature time has given him. "For now, keep him from bein' a danger to himself, give him plenty of water, oh- and watch yourself." Responsible or no, his tone turned drier now. "Alcohol lowers inhibitions."

He lifted a hand in a wave and turned to go. "I- suppose -you can call me if you need any help, but I wager you can handle yourself fine."

Wembley shrugged as best he could. It wasn't Gobo's fault, Fraggles and moderation just didn't usually mix. Especially within their circle, save for Boober.

"Got it! No danger, plenty of water, watch myse- Watch myself?" A brief pause as he blushed. "Oh, uh... Well, don't worry, I'll look after him, Uncle Scrooge! We'll be okay... Um, I think."

"Good." A final glance at Gobo, who waved cheerily, and Scrooge headed off, shaking his head to himself.

If nothing else, this might at least make a good story for somebody.

"I got it, I got it~" Gobo tapped Wembley's shoulder, looking up with a rather watery smile. "I can stand!"

So, he got his feet under him as Wembley set him down. And the moment Wembley's hands were off him, he went down, slumping to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

Maybe he didn't got it.

Wembley leaned down, offering his hands to Gobo. "Um... Sorry, Gobo, but I don't think you can."

He lay on the floor a giggling heap, then glanced up. Made a grab for Wembley's hand. Missed, used both and nailed it, then haaaauuuuuled himself to his feet.

"'Course I can! I'm Gobo Fraggle, I can do- hic -anythin'!"

Wembley sighed, albeit fondly. "Aw, I know you can, Gobo! Just... Maybe not right now. Look, I'm gonna take care of you today, okay? Let's go in and I'll get you some water to drink." He gently pulled Gobo in through the door. "Then maybe you should take a little nap..."

Otherwise, he had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

"Nap? Who can nap!" He consented to being pulled, amusing himself by sweeping the floor behind him with his tail. "There's sssso much to do!"

This second sigh was decidedly less fond. "Yes, Gobo, I know there is, but you have to be careful for now, so... The first thing to do is drink water, anyway, and we can worry about the rest later."

Slowly and cautiously, he let go of Gobo's hands, then dashed off to fetch a glass of water. It wasn't far at all, and maybe he could make it back before Gobo fell again...?

Or not.

Or not was right, as Gobo pitched to the floor again almost immediately. There he lay, knees bent and tail end up in the air, and he snickered again.

"Oops. Guess the gravity's pretty strong eh?"

"I guess so, Gobo," Wembley said, absent-mindedly. His focus was on holding the glass of water with one hand and getting Gobo to sit up with the other. "Come on, you gotta drink some water, okay?"

He sat up alright, though his expression scrunched up some and he took a swat at Wembley. Would've hit the glass if his hand hadn't gone wide.

"No, jus'- get it away!" A beat or two of temper, then he hiccuped and was giggling again. "Ahhhh've already had enuff to drink. 'M good."

"More than enough," Wembley muttered, mildly exasperated, as his free hand rubbed at his nose. "I guess the water can wait, though..." He shook his head. "Gee, Gobo, this is really tricky, huh?"

"Tricky, tricky..." A rough hiccup that jumped his body some, aaaannnnd teetered him back over like a limp blade of grass. He was fine, look at that tail ticking back and forth.

He was just going to live on the floor now.

"Wembley, I'm back!" The door opened as Boober backed his way through it, carefully pushing it shut with an elbow, his hands full with a basket. "You wouldn't believe the laundry options Silly Creatures have!"

On turning he glanced up, then gasped sharply and backed up against the door. "W-Wembley! Gobo! Is he alright-??" He sniffed the air, then reeled and pulled the basket up to his face, cursing his sensitive nose.

"What is that smell? Is it Gobo??"

"Oh, boy, Boober, I'm so glad to see you!"

Relief flooded over Wembley in an instant. Any help would have been welcome, but Boober was probably the best he could hope for, on a personal note. While Gobo brought out Wembley's adventurous side, Boober always made him feel calmer; at peace.

Boober wasn't going to like this, though.

"He's, uh, going to be," Wembley answered, before summing up what Scrooge had told him. And then, because he was who he was- "I'm sorry."

Boober stuck close to the door, at least until he was able to fish a clothespin out of his basket and stick it over his nose. Only then did he edge closer, watching Gobo warily, who was watching him in turn- and blinking out of turn, when it occurred to him that his eyes needed to blink in the first place.

"I... I see. Well." Setting the basket down, he knelt and waved a hand in front of Gobo's face, which caused a giggle. He picked up a wrist, let it fall, then grabbed Gobo's tail and floofed his hand through the belouvious. More giggles.

"He doesn't seem to be suffering from alcohol poisoning, just an acute state of drunkenness." He stood up, and stepped back. Well back. "Water is a good first step. We need to get some food into him, too. And for goodness sake if he falls asleep, don't leave him alone." Boober waved a hand. "Get him into that chair while I get a plate of something together."

"He doesn't want the water," Wembley sighed, as he tried to figure out the best way to get Gobo into a chair. As Boober headed off to prepare something for Gobo to eat, Wembley crouched down by Gobo's side.

"Gobo, I'm gonna help you get into a chair, okay, and I need you to stay in it when I do. Please?"

"Pour the water down his throat if you have to!" A bit of a temper snap, but this isn't quite what he wanted to come home to. Pausing outside the kitchen he looks back.

"Time is what's going to sober him up, but we can help it if we put something else in his system."

Boober gets a mighty raspberry, then he hiccuped again before looking up at Wembley.

"Ffffine. I guess so." A soft snicker, and he 'hup'ped as Wembley got him up again. Once in the chair he sliiiiid down a good bit, though at least he stayed in it. For now.

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