theroleplaybin | Let's get a little day drunk

"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.

"Pour it down- Boober, I can't do that!" Wembley gasped, frustrated not at the other Fraggle, but this impossible situation.

But he had to do it, didn't he? He had to get Gobo to drink the water somehow, it had to be important if both Scrooge and Boober said so. He scrunched up his face, then released with a sigh. "Okay, Wem- Wilfred. Wilfred. You gotta do this, even if it makes Gobo mad. Listen to Convincing John, and all your troubles will be gone..."

He couldn't work the same sort of magic Convincing John could, of course, but anything to help get him in a more certain and confident state of mind.

"Okay, Gobo, now you're going to... To drink some water. It's different from what you had before, so it's okay, and I- I- I won't take no for an answer!"

"He's gonna tell it, spell it, sell it, just for youuuu..." He giggled, both fingers conducting at the air as he continued humming the same song.

"Sure! Water's better off the floor anyway."

"No. No, I'll get you another glass," Wembley said. "You have to stay in the chair. Stay right there."

Although, because he felt bad being so strict with anyone, he did press a quick kiss just above Gobo's eyes before he ran off to grab another drink of water. As soon as he was even a few inches away, he started calling back to Gobo. "Just stay right there! I'll be right back. Just... Stay right there!"

Edited 2019-12-17 02:13 (UTC)

In the kitchen, Wembley will find a fresh glass already ready for him, and Boober busy cutting up some vegetables into sizable chunks, muttering to himself all the while.

"Gobo needs something substantial, but nothing hot. And not too much food either," while he put a roll on a tray he had, "or he may get sick." Pause. Gulp. "Sicker, which reminds me we might need a bucket..."

Edited 2019-12-17 02:16 (UTC)

Wembley let out a sigh of relief when he saw the glass prepared and waiting. "You're wonderful," he said with a weak smile in Boober's direction. "I'll get a bucket next... I really hope we don't need it, though."

A brief smile at the compliment, then he sighed. "I hope we don't either." He snorted some, hefting up the tray and walking back with Wembley. "Maybe we should just skip the bucket entirely and set him up in the bathroom." A soft scoff, and in lieu of a visible eyeroll, he tossed his head a bit with the snark. "If we get enough water into him and flush his system, he may need it anyway..."

"It might make more sense, but Gobo wouldn't be very comfortable there, would he? But... Then again, it might be for the best." Wembley hesitated in the entryway to the kitchen. "Oh, I don't know what to do, Boober! I just spent half a minute being strict and decisive, and it's exhausting!"

He looked back, then smiled and waved Wembley to follow him with his tail.

"It's alright. I'm here to help you. We'll stay with Gobo until the alcohol's gone through him."

Wembley took a deep breath and nodded, calming himself. "Yeah... Yeah, we'll stay with him. And each other." A small smile, as he followed Boober out of the kitchen.

"Exactly!" He led the way back into the other room, putting the tray near the chair Gobo was... kind of sitting in.

"Gobo, just how much did you drink anyway?"

"Uh." He held his hands in front of him, squinted at them, held them further apart, 'hmm'ed, then shrugged.

"I'unno. I only stopped when- hic -when the bottle wuz empty."

"Musta been a really big bottle, too," Wembley mumbled, holding the glass out at arm's length. "Okay, Gobo, time to drink the water. Remember, no buts!"

"Yooouuuu got it, Wemble-Wobble!" He reached for it, missed- Ah, got it that time. Now how to reconcile sitting so low with being able to drink...

Wembley nodded, then looked back to Boober. "All that stuff you know about taking care of Fraggles really does come in handy." He ran a hand through his hair with a little chuckle. He wasn't so good with many things, but he'd come to realize that he was no slouch at caring for his friends. That, combined with Boober's knowledge, made them a pretty good team for this strange kind of situation.

He looked over at Wembley, and shrugged one shoulder, tossing his hand a bit.

"I guess." A little snort through his nose. Behind him, Gobo was busy trying to dribble water into his mouth. "Though the last thing I ever expected was to take care of one of us completely plastered drunk."

Wembley nodded. "Yeah, I don't think any of us would've expected this," he agreed. "But you're doing real great for the first time!" A beat. "I really hope there isn't a second time."

"I hope not. Alcohol is no joke. You said Gobo got into Uncle Scrooge's supply, right? I'll have to have a talk with him about securing it better. The last thing we want is Gobo getting hooked on this stuff."

Nope, dribbling didn't work. He tried to get higher in the chair, but all that did was splash some of the water on his front.

....Hey, now there's an idea. Maybe he can toss the water in.

"Hooked on the stuff? Well, gosh, no, of course we don't want that. But I think that might be a little extra worry, there, Boober." Wembley shrugged. "But it sure can't hurt to see if Uncle Scrooge can make it harder to get to that stuff."

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

1/2

2/2

no subject