[THD, DDC] drink in my veins • | m a t e o

Not for the first time - or the twentieth time, this month - Prosper was sort of drunk. In this case "sort of" really meant "very".

He was in trouble.

The night had started like any other - Prosper had gone to a party, met up with some mates, and begun dancing the night away. He'd done all kinds of magical shots and made out with three girls and a boy and everything had been going swimmingly. He'd been having fun. Things had only really taken a dangerous turn when a small group of them had decided to portkey to Paris to get matching tattoos. He wasn't entirely sure on the details, but somehow he'd ended up with someone else's broken wand alone on a muggle bus. The punchline? His hand was magically stuck to the rail beside his seat.

Now, Prosper had nothing against muggles, but he'd never really tried to navigate the muggle transportation system and it wasn't going well for him. Being magically attached to a muggle bus while drunk was something he was sure would make a great story later, but right now he just wanted to get out. Naturally, the broken wand wasn't helping. Prosper was a little too drunk to care too much about the international statute of secrecy right now, and he was desperately poking at his hand with the broken wand despite the fact that an old muggle woman was sitting across from him and giving him weird looks.

"Damnit!" Prosper flinched as the wand he was holding zapped him. Performing magic with other people's wands was one thing, but this one was also kind of broken so getting it to do anything he wanted was basically impossible. He'd already transfigured his own fingers into mini tentacles and back by accident. Zara wouldn't have let this happen, he thought distantly. He really should get back in contact with his roommate.

Mateo galvan had been dispatched to Paris, his hometown. He had been alerted to a young adult, believing him to be late teens to early twenties. This was the earliest intel that the sentries that were magically inserted to many of the light poles and fire hydrants in the city of lights. It was just after two in the morning and the Obliviator was walking briskly through the streets, his flowing overcoat billowing out behind him. The warm breeze that blew through the streets slight ruffled the former Ombrelune's hair, as his footfalls fell into sync with the nightlife that surrounded him. The district in question was full of clubs, bars, and other houses of ill repute. Mateo loved going to the bar, but he was much comfortable with the one he frequented with his flatmate Logan.

He was briefly reminded of @Alessandra Rossellini as a beautiful Parisian lady walked by, her curls falling behind her as she strutted down the street. Her heels clacked against the pavement, way too high for his liking. Ale was a catch, but she didn't understand what he was going through, and she hated him for it. Hell, he didn't even know what he was going through. He veered towards the left as he caught a glimpse of the bus just pulling up to stop. He got on, paid his Euros to ride, and walked down towards the "victim". Now, normally this was just an issue for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, however since there was muggles involved, it got escalated to the Obliviators.

The man whom normally took his job very seriously, couldn't help but crack a smile at the poor bloke whom was standing awkwardly next to a rail. "So tell me, how did you get into this predicament?" The Obliviator calmly spoke towards the man, whom was clearly in distress. He spoke low, in a practiced methodical way, he had his wand slightly unsheathed beneath his long overcloak.

Prosper poked at his hand again, yelping in pain and dropping his wand as it zapped him a little more intensely this time. The old woman across from him just stared. She was so still that Prosper wondered if she'd maybe passed away and wasn't actually staring at him, but her eyes were just sort of open in that dead way... He blinked at her and then leant down to get his wand off of the floor. He was getting sort of paranoid and she was freaking him out. The boy barely noticed someone quietly hop on the bus and make their way to him.

Prosper quirked a single eyebrow, his expression drunk and dramatic. "I don't know what you're talking about, muggle," he responded, his voice loud and slightly slurred. Prosper didn't usually slur when he was drunk; he'd had too much practice enunciating and performing for alcohol to affect him too much like that. When he was little, he'd practiced running lines with people like Zara and Christéle. Usually he just got louder and more dramatic. The boy's grey eyes fell on the partially unsheathed wand under the man's cloak and he had to laugh, his voice relieved. "Oh Merlin, get me out of this muggle hellhole," he said. "I mean," Prosper gestured weakly at the woman sitting across from him who only blinked in response. "What are you staring at?" he asked loudly in her direction. "These muggles, right?" he said, turning back to Mateo.

"I think its best to hold your tongue," he whispered into the younger man's ear, "How has being loud and obnoxious treated you so far on this bus ride?" He used the same conversational low tone. "Nevermind, it's best we wait until the end of the line, until then, we'll act as if we are best mates, catching up after a long time away." He hoped the drink addled man was at least coherent enough to understand discretion was necessary, so that he didn't have to take any drastic measures. He had done things similar to this with the non-muggle fraternizing sorts that he came across in his line of work. "It's Mateo!" he smiled at the strange man, and kissed him on both cheeks as is the European custom. Or at least, it was what he observed. "Long time no see!"

He fully expected the man to freak out at the contact, so he prepared for the freakout mentally whilst still chatting to the man calmly, a bit louder so that people if they were listening could tell what they were saying. "How's your parents?", "How's your brother.." he slightly recognized the facial features now, "Pierce ( @Pierce Lachapelle ) right?" He now looked into a face he found familiar by association, Pierce was in a similar year to him in school and though they didn't run in the same circles, one did not simply unnotice a Lachapelle. They were like a unicorn draped in gold; unmissable.

"Well, not badly," he said truthfully, somewhere between amused and skeptical about this new guy who was apparently here to save him. Prosper was always like this; too confident, too impulsive. It had probably gotten him in this whole situation in the first place, he thought. The boy liked the idea of acting, but he didn't really get it. If the other guy was from the ministry shouldn't he just obliviate all the muggles and get Prosper the hell out of here? Maybe he'd get a fine or a slap on the wrist or something but surely it wasn't as if he'd committed some kind of incredible offence, right?

The teenager leaned back in his seat a little, squirming when he was suddenly kissed on both cheeks. Prosper was a tactile sort of boy who tended to kiss everyone a little more than was probably called for so it wasn't too bad. "Oh Mateo, of course," he exclaimed, rolling his eyes but playing along anyway. This bus was his stage, he thought to himself, straightening up a little. "Peter," he corrected, as if Mateo had almost gotten his brother's name right but not quite. "Yeah, Peter's doing well. So's Lilou, my favourite little sister. How about you?" he asked innocently, giving the man a pleasant smile, "did that rash ever go away or did it end up being, you know, chronic," Prosper leant in for the last word, stage-whispering it so that everyone could hear. The boy also gestured with the hand holding his friend's broken wand and suddenly a purple spark flew out of one end, hitting the roof of the bus...

As the boy talked his eyes and eyes only drifted from interested to annoyed when he heard the teenager speak again. "You must be terribly drunk to remember something like your big brother's name wrong." He cocked his head to the side, leaning into Prosper, "Pierce and I went to school together, I recognized your facial features." He whispered, almost a growl into his ear. "Oh, you must be misremembering, that was Martha with the rash, not me. You know the one with the red hair, really skinny?" he talked to him like normal then. "You really must stop drinking..." his face morphed into a mock-concerned expression, "It's really affecting your memory."

He patted the top of the boys shoulder, "We'll get you back to your flat in no ti--" Violet sparks streaked cross the Obliviator's face, hitting the white metallic ceiling of the bus, sending a shower of sparks raining from the impact point. It was nearly to the end of the line, they were ALMOST home free and this gold-dipped unicorn had to go and stuff it all up. It started then, a rain cloud formed over the roof of the bus, it's thick form moving from end to end. Rumbles that sounded suspiciously like dog barks started lightly, but then the skies opened up and sent furballs of different colors raining down upon the bus. "I really didn't want to have to massively erase and modify memories, but there you went. Great job, Lachapelle.. You had one job." Sighing he whisked his wand out, to rest in his palm fully. he flicked it around, and it seemed as if the bus was drenched in an illusory clear liquid. After that he went around putting everyone in a trance-like state, almost performing them wordlessly, except for Prosper. Then, he had to set about trying to quell the furry storm, "Meteolojinx Recanto," he recited carefully. A dachshund landed in his outstretched arms, and then a Pomeranian, then a set of claws dug down into his right shoulder-blade. He turned to meet his attacker and saw a yellow-eyed raven-haired cat staring back at him. "Laurant, what are you.." he looked up at the animal producing rain cloud and wondered whether he should actually call the AMRS.  "Well, I guess this is what they mean in London, when they say it's raining cats and dogs."

Prosper rolled his eyes. "Oh come on, like I'd ever mix up you and Martha." But their little banter session was quickly over. Prosper stared, his grey eyes opened wide, as a fat grey cat with blue eyes fell from the roof and landed right in his lap. Well, this was definitely going to be an interesting story. Prosper dropped the broken wand instinctively and started patting the cat absentmindedly with his free hand. He considered trying to help - not that he had any idea about what he could possibly do in this situation.

The teenager was exhausted, though, and he felt like he'd been trapped on this bus forever. So without moving very much, Prosper sort of repositioned himself around the warm cat (which was now purring - cute!) and snuggled it. He leant his head on the window beside him and closed his eyes. The noise - meows, barks, purring, hissing - wasn't bothering him too much. Prosper had never been a particularly light sleeper, and right now he was under the influence of many shots and an exhausting day. While the obliviator freaked out and tried to stop the chaos he'd accidentally caused, Prosper drifted off into a nice, drunk nap.