paradisa | ♔ onze || and do not get drunk with wine for that is debauchery (but be filled with the spirit)

[ The journal has perfect timing, of course, opening near the tail end of a rather bawdy song sung by Anne Boleyn herself ~~taught to her by her own daughter~~. Her singing voice is actually quite musical, but her words might slur just a 'touch'. ]

♫ Ye have my heart, say what ye will,
Wherefore ye must my mind fulfill,
And grant me here your maidenhead,
Or elles I shall for you be dead.

I pray you, sir, let me go milk my cow ♩

[ And those who are actually within the clinic have already had to hear a good deal of her song, after Anne had rolled out into the main room with her wheelchair and demanded that Spike Spiegel fix all the patients a cocktail as he did her. Yep, this is all his fault, blame him guys. She has discovered hard liquor. ]

♪ Then for this once I shall you spare,
But the next time ye must beware,
How in the meadow ye milk your cow
Adieu, farewell, and kiss me now!

I pray you, sir, let me go milk my cow! ♬

[ ooc; OPEN TO ALL IN THE CLINIC, patients and visitors. Feel free to assume they've already been drinking, or haven't touched the stuff and are complaining, whatever you want. Open over the journal, too, but Anne won't be paying close attention to it.

Although the date would be meaningless to her ICly, today is the day Anne Boleyn was executed, so I wanted to do a little something. Impromptu party to cheer up the injured folks without babies! Threadjack other threads away, it's a party! She's tired of sulking. ;) ]

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[If it didn't hurt him so much to do it, the Once-ler would have accompanied her singing with his guitar. But he's grateful for the drink, it keeps his mind off the fact his own magical child hasn't reappeared this year.

...Probably for the best. He settles for beating a bit of a drum out on his writing board, in lieu of his actual musical instrument]

[ Well, it's better than nothing! Anne would play an instrument if she could, too, but her left arm is still not that coordinated for anything like a harp or lute. Singing is good enough, especially when there's already a ringing in her ears.

This time she opts for an old latin tavern song. How is she to know that few here would understand? ]

♫ In taberna quando sumus,
non curamus quid sit humus,
sed ad ludum properamus,
cui semper insudamus.

quid agatur in taberna
ubi nummus est pincerna,
hoc est opus ut quaeratur;
si quid loquar, audiatur! ♪

[Conan had come by the clinic to check on how many people were injured day. It was a regular stop on his usual rounds around the castle.

He hadn't expected to hear something like that. Conan quickly conceals his incredulous expression as he makes his way over to Anne.]

Are you feeling alright?

[ Normally she hides away in her own clinic room, but for once she is actually feeling social. That probably has more to do with liquor than anything! Really, she still feels like crawling into a hole and dying quietly there, but if anyone is practiced at parading a convincing smile and laugh in the face of doom it's Anne, and she chuckles now as she starts to hold out her bottle, then pulls it away. ]

Quite! Oh, I think even cut with water you would not handle this well, child! Wish up some ale and water, and join us in song.

Edited 2013-05-20 02:29 (UTC)

[Sometimes Spike forgot important things. Like how Anne wasn't exactly the definition of a quiet drunk. He'd given her the cocktail as a charming way to show he wasn't out to destroy her life, but things had progressively snowballed.

Especially when she announced that he start mixing them for the whole clinic. He should have made it more obvious that they needed to keep that between the two of them. Regrets...]

I guess I'd better find some glasses. [Sighing, he gets up from his seat and starts to eye the nearest medical closet. The things you do.]

No, more of these bottles! They hold much more drink, and we risk not soiling the clinic's brilliantly white floors and bedding.

[ Look even drunk, she's trying to be practical. Sort of not really. He should just wish the drinks up, the poor soul. She's so out of it she wouldn't even notice. ]

Master Spiegel, treat them all, on my coin!

[He's holding one, some of the best whiskey he's encountered since he started sampling all the castle had to offer, and quickly lowers it from her view.]

Sure. The bar is just around the corner.

The what?

[ People keep saying that like it's useful. She knows they must mean something other than what she's thinking but what, oh my God. She is not as quick at putting things together as she should. ]

A tavern. The doctors surely would not allow us...

[ Like they'll allow this. Half expects House to come out of nowhere and chain them all to their beds, then have the beds nailed to the floor. Catheters and IVs for all; nobody's going anywhere. ]

[No, they wouldn't. The way things are going, Anne is fixing to have Spike barred from the premises -- which would be unfortunate the next time he's bleeding out over something or another. He has a history.]

I meant, I can grab a few to bring back. So long as nobody knows where they came from.

[Horrible plan, but it would get him out of there long enough to think of a better one. (Honestly, his only goal was to give Anne something to get her through the next few days. Why does she have to suddenly feel generous...)]

[ She is always generous shut your stupid face!!! ]

Yes! Go, go.

... No problem.

[He takes about two steps towards the exit when he reevaluates the situation. If he leaves her again, that's not going to look good on his track record.

So, while she isn't looking, he wishes up three more bottles of liquor that should put about anyone out, and tries to spot a nurse he recognizes who may help his cause.]

[is she drunk again?] Are you okay?

[The Once-ler sure doesn't know what that language is. But hey, it's pretty, so he'll continue to drum out a beat to it regardless]

I think I'll pass on that. [Great. She'd been drinking. He just had to hope she could handle it better than the old man. At least her singing awas an improvement over that guy.]

People usually don't want me to sing!

[... just what?]

Interesting song... Ma'am. [i.e. who does he have to kill for giving you booze... again?]

[ Oh her journal, right. She'll respond a few minutes later. ]

There are many! What songs do you know?

As well as anyone can be trapped in such a state!

I can't say I can think of any in particular I'd like to hear at the moment, thank you.

[This... is the queen... what is his life?!]

You seem incapable of fun.

[ Hello, nobody parties harder than royalty. At least that's how it used to be, okay. ]

I believe you would need it now most of all.

[What? He's plenty of fun! Just... the kind of fun that includes gambling and sex with beautiful women.]

Why might that be, Ma'am?

You passed, I know. You have suffered! Come partake.

[Wow. Way to point out the fact that he DIED your Magesty. Thanks for that. Christ now he really does need a drink.]

Are you offering me a drink, Ma'am?

[ More latin! Wow this would be much more exciting if she could actually dance. ]

♪ Quidam ludunt,
quidam bibunt,
quidam indiscrete vivunt!
Sed in ludo qui morantur,
ex his quidam denudantur,
quidam ibi vestiuntur,
quidam saccis induuntur!
Ibi nullus timet mortem,
sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem. ♪

[ And so forth you get the idea kids. Lots about EVERYONE DRINKING and lewd things. ]

[ You're welcome, sorry not sorry she's drunk you expect too much, really! And was the death really worse than the Hell trip, was it? ]

Drinks for everyone! I will have Master Spiegel see to it. You must receive the most bountiful...bottle.

[ So if you wanted to know who to kill. ]

[... duly noted. First smoking, now drinking. He's going to have to have a "talk" with this Spike.]

The most beautiful, hmm? I suppose I shall have to see this for myself.

[With that he closes the journal and heads for the clinic. What? Like he wouldn't already know where she was.]

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