theroleplaybin | Let's get a little day drunk

"Yes indeed! Alcohol is very addictive. I'm just glad Uncle Scrooge doesn't have harder substances that Gobo could've gotten into."

Speaking of Gobo, he glances over, to see Gobo looking back at him while holding the glass. He tapped the bottom of it, "Drink up," and then turned back to Wembley, leaving Gobo to what he was doing.

"Besides, it has dangerous effects on the body in the aftermath, too! Once the alcohol goes through him, Gobo isn't going to be fit for anything for at least the better part of the day, he'll be too hungover."

Wembley whimpered a bit. "Gosh, I didn't know all of that - I feel bad for Gobo, but Boober, I'm a little annoyed," he confessed quietly. "I don't really think it was his fault, but..." He shrugged. "I can't help it. My brain knows there's no reason to be upset with him, but the rest of me is too worried about him not to be."

"It's alright Wembley. Truth be told, I'm a bit annoyed, too. Gobo knows what alcohol is same as we do, and yet we still get that," he said with a huff, gesturing toward Gobo without turning that way. "And now we have to deal with it until he's back to his senses."

He was silent a moment, then relented with, it wasn't quite a smile but it was close. A typical look for Boober, around his loved ones. "But it's alright. We'll take care of him, same as he would take care of any one of us. Drunk or no."

Tossing didn't work either, he couldn't even get it out of the cup. Clearly it was the glass that was the problem, it was in the way!

So, with it resting on his stomach, he's gotten the folded knife from one of his pockets. He's using it still folded, using the blunt curve to dink against the cup while he holds it with his other hand, but points for effort...?

"Gee, Boober... Thanks. I mean, I'm glad it's not just me who's... A little..."

What was that clinking sound? He glanced over at Gobo- Damn it.

"Gobo! Gobo, no, what are you doing?!" he snapped. "I'm not letting you get hurt, so you give me that knife right now!"

"Here!" He handed the knife, and the glass too for good measure. "Maybe you can ffff- fix the cup! I can't ge' it."

Wembley paused for a moment, glancing between Gobo and Boober. Should he leave getting Gobo to drink his water to Boober? He did, after all, have a better handle on the caretaking thing than Wembley did... But, oh, shouldn't Wembley be doing all he could to help, too?

He was starting to get indignant, and with a huff, he placed the knife in his shirt pocket. "I am going to get a straw!" he exclaimed, turning on his heels to to do so.

"A straw!" He giggled at the top of his throat. "Goo'idea, Wemble!" And, grinning, he smacked his tail across Wembley's backside when he turned.

Wembley stopped short to let out a frustrated groan, then took a deep breath and marched off to the kitchen. He understood, by now, why Scrooge's knocking had been so angry, earlier.

He hadn't calmed down much by the time he returned with the straw in the glass, either. He pressed the water into Boober's hand. "I'm sorry, I- I can't."

He mutely took the water, nodding and patting Wembley's shoulder.

"It's alright. I'll watch him for a bit, if you wanna go outside a minute."

Though, that slight pressure to his shoulder, in the direction of the door, didn't leave much room for argument.

He opened his mouth to protest, but realized it wouldn't get him far, if anywhere, even if he was having a moderately more decisive moment just now. So he nodded, then pecked a kiss to Boober's cheek.

"I'll be back quick. Promise... Thank you."

He nodded, and when Wembley turned to go he pulled him back long enough to return the kiss. Then, patting his shoulder, Boober went over to take care of Gobo, who was watching with a strange expression and, "Wurrzeegoin'?"

"Wembley's going outside. He'll be back. Here, drink your water, yes that's the way. I've got some nice bread for you too, and I have some radish slices to put in the middle..."

Wembley tried to carry the feeling of that kiss with him as he went out the door, and sat down in the grass of the hill. It helped, a lot... Especially with the little Fraggle being so at war with himself. He hated feeling angry, and feeling angry at Gobo was especially difficult. He closed his eyes, running a hand through the grass. Deep breath, in then out. Maybe it was okay that he was mad at Gobo, and maybe Gobo wasn't totally blameless here.

Everything was relatively quiet for a good while inside their little home. Then the door cracked open and Boober stepped out, carefully watching Gobo walk out. His knees were unsteady and he hardly seemed to have any shoulders or neck at all, but he was at least upright. A pause, a- heavy -pat to Boober's shoulder and a stage-whispered "I got thisss, I'll be right back" before he started onto the hill, being watched like a hawk all the while.

Even being green Wembley was easy to find, though he hung back a few paces. Something was wrong and in his haze he couldn't put his finger on what. He was going to fix it though.

"When I'm wuh- wemblin' west, I take the friend I like best..." Slurred words and a hiccup, but at least he was trying.

Wembley flinched when he heard the door open, unsure what to expect, but... Oh. Gobo absolutely was trying, and it did not go unappreciated. Wembley smiled a bittersweet sort of smile over at Gobo, and gave him a little nod.

"So we can wemble, wemble, wemble side-by-side..."

He got to his feet and approached Gobo a step or two. "Yeah, Gobo. That's right."

"Wembs..." He didn't exactly get what was wrong, but he knew what it was about. Or who. "I'm sorry. You're mad at me."

He paused, expression screwing up a bit. Then he blinked and looked over. "Because 'm drunk, innit?"

Edited 2019-12-17 04:27 (UTC)

An awkward laugh and a half-shrug. "I think I am, yeah. But not 'cause you're drunk - well, not exactly. I just wish you'd thought about how someone was going to have to look after you. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'll look after you whenever you need me to!" he added with a chuckle. "But- Aw, I'm sure you'll understand later."

"I thhhh..." Nope, try again. "I think I understand now. I wouldn't want to look after me, either." He snorted, which threatened to bowl him over, then he looked at Wembley again.

"I got carried away." He closed his hands into fists, temper flaring again. "Ohhh, I always get carried away-!" The angry kick at the grass, now THAT bowled him over, and he went sprawling with a yelp onto his back. Immediately he held a hand up.

"'m fine!"

Wembley just looked at him for a moment, once Gobo assured him he was fine. "Well..."

He stopped to lie down a few inches away from Gobo, also on his back. "...You do get carried away a lot, but that's why you have us, 'specially me and Boober... Because we don't always get carried away enough, you know. It's balance."

Speaking of Boober... He glanced in the other Fraggle's direction, and gave him a little wave, just so he'd know things were okay.

Boober waved back, though Gobo didn't see because he was busy staring at the sky.

"Mmh. I'm lucky to have you guys..."

And that sun felt so warm. Oh, he could just fall asleep right here...

He noticed Gobo stretch and yawn and seem to settle in, so he stepped forward and cupped his hands beside his mouth, shouting up the hill.

"Turn him on his side! Don't let him sleep on his back in case he gets sick!"

Sighing, he dropped his hands and muttered to himself. "Guess I'll get a couple pillows... We'll move him inside later."

A good idea - gross thought, but a good idea.

"Alright, big guy," he murmured, getting up to his knees and gently rolling Gobo over. "You take it easy. We'll talk more another day."

Not necessarily, from what he'd gathered so far, the next day, which came in time - the girls stopped in for a bit, after the others had come inside after lying in the grass for a while, but Mokey had determined that letting Red stick around might be ill-advised.

Officially speaking, Wembley and Boober shared a room in the Fraggle Home, but with the girls gone, they'd bunked in Gobo's room for the night, to keep an eye on him.

Which was what Wembley was very intently doing when Gobo finally awoke.

Gobo did indeed wake up sometime the next day, though morning had come and gone by the time he stirred. He glanced up, the winced and put a hand to his head. It was still there, wasn't it? It didn't feel like it...

"Ohhh, I feel like I've been thumped by 20 Gorgs..."

Boober had given Wembley plenty of information on tending to Gobo in the morning - including the type of noises Gobo might be sensitive to, and apparently, Wembley's own voice was on the list. He didn't understand that, exactly, but he accounted for it. He responded to Gobo's groan with a hesitant smile and a wave, then started signing in the way Gobo had taught them after being taught himself by Uncle Matt.

"Do you want some water?"

He glanced up, then looked at him with furrowed brow and momentarily crossed eyes. "Again. Slower." Such fast signing made his stomach swim.

Once he got the message though he nodded, and immediately regretted it. "Please."

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