Synopsis: Martin is depressed because he cannot be with Heulwen, the Man is keeping him down and his father and his uncle are fighting. Addison is a little out of sorts because he has been taking care of a mentally ill Prince of Amber. But all that goes away when they step out and run into Isabelle and Tristan. Tristan was shot down on the Black Road. They fetch Lucretia to patch up Tristan and get him to the Citron Solar. Once Tristan is no longer bleeding from a sucking chest wound, they raid the bar. Addison finds a bottle of Absinthe and 'something blue.' As he pours drinks, Martin remembers a dime baggy he has tucked in his jacket...

And things go downhill.

Addison, Martin, Isabelle, Tristan, Lucretia, Random, Vialle, Corwin, Rose, and special evil guest, Servalle!

Warning: The log is lengthy.


--[ Viridian Solar ]--------------------------------------[ Royal Palace ]----

Isabelle walks in. She is covered in Blood, but this is nothing compared to Tristan, who actively has an open wound in his chest.

Martin head snaps up as Vialle leaves. "Lir on a bike, what happened to you two?"

Addison turns away from the door at the sound of Isabelle and Tristan and... stops... and goes... "Tris? Belle? Er... Dear God!"

Isabelle says, "I'm trying to get Tristan to my rooms where he can lay down." She adds weakly, almost unbelievingly, "He was shot. With a gun."

Addison immediately begins start shouting for someone to go and bloody well rouse the Royal Physician and get her to come here now please if you could thank you very much don't make me beat you.

Martin steps up immediately to help offer support for Tristan. "I've been shot before, know what that's like. When did this happen?" He says, alarmed.

Tristan does seem to be bleeding profusely from something that looks like it might have once been a bullet hole, before an unskilled physician proceeded to spend several minutes digging around to get the bullet out. It's loosely covered with the torn remnant of a shirt, and is helpfully bleeding through it. Amazingly, he still is conscious, and able to stand with help. He flashes a tired grin and says, after a moment, "Look, Love. Company."

Isabelle looks relieved when Martin helps her. "Let's get him into my rooms." She flashes Addison a grateful, if bloody smile. She's starting to to regain some color to her quite pale complexion too.

Addison tells the servants firmly that they are to bring Lucretia de'Mandrake to the Citron Solar immediately. Then he turns and says, "Tris, can you make it around the corner?"

"Make it, they're practically hauling me." Tristan says, after a moment, more seriously, "Yes." He glances down at the hole, before wishing he hadn't and quickly glancing back up. Isabelle - she's far more pleasant to see.

Martin says, "Hey, I'm Martin." To Tristian, "Easy does it. You should be on a stretcher. I can carry him."

Addison says, "Martin if you need help..." He hovers for a moment and then says, "Just down the hall to the Citron Solar."

Tristan says, "Hey, Martin. Good to meet you."

--[ Citron Solar ]----------------------------------------[ Royal Palace ]----

Lucretia looks as if she's come in a bit of a hurry, leather satchel slung a bit askew over her shoulders and a gripped valise held tightly in one hand. Her expression is that of professional briskness.

Martin is carrying Tristan as they enter the citron solar. He's bleeding a lot.

Addison follows with an Isabelle behind a Martin carrying Tristan into the Citron Solar. He's curiously underdressed for the Palace, but he is looking a bit frazzled and red-eyed. He looks relieved when he sees Lucretia. Apparently, Irene-like servant-terror works sometimes. "Tris's been shot," Addison says.

Tristan does not seem like one who has covered himself in grace. He has covered himself in blood, though. A thin remnant of a white shirt covers a gaping hole in his chest - for someone like Lucretia, who has training in things such as this, he should be Dead. Doornail dead. Isabelle dressing in black dead.

Lucretia's eyebrows go up quickly. "Shot," she remarks thoughtfully. "Put him down and get out of my way." She steps towards him, tone polite but brusque - that of someone focused entirely already on a potentially herculean task at hand.

Tristan protests, weakly, "This is unnecessary. This is really, really, really unnecessary."

Martin settles Tristan down for Lucretia and steps away. Tristan has managed to bleed on him too apparently.

Isabelle is also covered in blood, and right behind Tristan and Martin. She's carrying her red coat in one hand. She says, "He keeps saying he doesn't need a doctor." with disbelief in the tone of her voice.

Lucretia answers Isabelle's disbelief a bit absently as she moves to kneel next to Tristan. "From the looks of him, he should be dead already." She begins cutting away Tristan's clothing right away.

Addison frowns deeply. Extremely deeply. He crosses his arms. "Yes. He should be dead already." In that 'you should be dead you cheater you' tone of voice.

Martin looks very concerned, "What about you Isabella?" he puts a hand on her shoulder in concern.

Tristan declares, "For the love of all that is holy, It _wasn't silver_. Now _put me down_."

Lucretia says calmly, "You do seem to be more or less alive for some reason, but as I have an aversion to watching people bleed, I'm going to work on fixing you up anyway." She has by now cut cloth away from Tristan's injury and is reaching into her bag. "How much pain are you in? Really, I'm surprised you're, oh ... conscious."

Isabelle glances at Martin with the most pathetic Femine Wiles In Training dark blue eyes, full of woe. "I'm all right. just -- it's all Tristan's blood."

Addison is giving Tristan the Look of Irene (tm). It might actually, possibly, light him on fire.

"Yes, it fucking hurts," Tristan answers, closing his eyes. "Of course, I would be screaming more if it didn't hurt to breathe so much." He says, "My mother was Weir. I'm going to live. This isn't a big deal."

Lucretia is not giving patented looks, except possibly scientific interest : the look of Huh, That's Funny, and What Would Happen If I Poked Him There? Or something akin to that. She's got gauze, and beckons to - whoever's closest. "Hold this on the wound and apply pressure. I'm going to give him a shot for the pain."

Tristan reaches over, extending Isabelle a hand. He does have the forethought to reach and wipe it on whatever he is sitting on. Flora's not going to be happy with him getting more blood on more items, again.

Martin pats Isabella on the arm gently. "Well, as long as its not yours." He stares down at Tristan. "Wait... you're one of them?" His brows raise. "That's a really big hole though and you're bleeding a lot. I'd let Lucy work if I were you."

Addison finally walks forward to help Lucretia with the gauze. He is still giving Tristan a look that indicates that Tristan will have a future of No Tea.

Isabelle adds to Martin, "He's said fuck twice." At least she's noticing something other than blood and wolf howling. But seeing Tristan's hand she reaches for it. Being nearest, obeys Lucy's instructions enough to let go of Tristan's hand to apply pressure. But really, she doesn't look like the right man for the job. She's turning pale again.

Addison looks like he has no issues with blood and gore and human bits sliding out all over the place. What he DOES have a problem with are Unnatural Death Cheaters (tm). But he is marking this one down to a No Tea Event.

Lucretia prepares a hypodermic, filling it from an ampoule. "Princess, why don't you check his forehead and see if it feels warm," she suggests, tone matter of fact. "Addison will get the gauze for you. I'm going to need a trauma team on staff, I can tell." She bends, jabbing the now-filled hypodermic (Not Silver) into Tristan, injecting him with lovely morphine-derived painkillers.

"Oooooh, that's nice," Tristan literally croons as Sweet sweet drugs settle into him. His fingers loosen around Isabelle's, and his eyes close again.

Addison bends to doing trauma nurse stuff for Lucretia, occasionally shooting Tris an Irene (tm) look and muttering about doors, death, and tea.

Martin folds his arms. "If this is what it is like when I'm just visiting..." He comments.

Isabelle makes room for Addison and instead puts her hand on Tristan's forehead, leaving a Saurman-hand in blood on his forehead.

Lucretia says without emphasis or preamble, "Good. He'll struggle against being fixed up less, now." She reaches into her bag again - depositing the hypodermic and taking out a suture set. "Addison, please peel back the gauze a bit at a time. Maintain pressure on the covered bits." The gore seems to bother her as much as the weight of her fingernails. "How is he, your highness? - Martin, could you reach into my bag? You'll find more gauze; I'll need you to swap with Addison shortly, very quickly, to keep him from losing blood and to keep things visible."

Addison follows orders from Lucretia, getting blood all over his nice knit sweater, and continues to mutter about doors, death, and a distinct lack of tea.

At best, Isabelle knows bandage type scraped-knee medicine. She is not at her best. She is pale from the sight of so much of Tristan's blood, of seeing the hole in his chest, all that. She replies to Lucretia, "He's been better. He said fuck twice. I've never heard him say fuck."

Martin looks slightly confused, but gets the gauze anyway at Lucretia's direction.

Lucretia is getting fairly bloody in all this herself. She wasn't planning on trauma surgery tonight! But she begins stitching Tristan up. "Forgivable under the circumstances, Princess. He's lost enough blood that it would kill a lesser man easily." She nods to Martin and Addison. "Swap, please." She then returns to stitching, expression intent.

Addison does as ordered because he's turned off his brain and moved into the mode of following orders. And man, is Flora going to be pissed.

Isabelle says, "Oh there's nothing to forgive. It's just strange, that's all. I suppose he does feel a little warm." Her hand still on Tristan's forehead.

Martin puts pressure on Tristan as directed, he looks slightly confused but he has no problem with blood aparantly. "This reminds me of one of my concerts." he notes.

Addison says, idly, as he does gauze things, "Lucretia, you said you were building a hospital. Maybe you need some kind of emergency room here in the Palace."

Lucretia finishes the stitching in due course, then leans back. "All right. Weir heal very quickly so he'll probably be fine in a day or so. In the meantime, limit his movements so he doesn't pull the stitches, make sure he gets plenty of protein, and if need be, I'll leave some pain medication with him. He shouldn't drink excessively until he's a bit better due to the amount of blood he's lost." She smiles. "Apart from that, he'll probably be fine. I'll check on him every six hours, but if you want to stay with him, it's not a bad idea." She nods, then, to Addison. "The laboratory in the suite isn't really set up for it, and I do feel odd having people examined in a spare bedroom. Obviously, one makes do, but..."

Isabelle says, "Oh, I'll stay with him. Hopefully in a few we can move him into my suite. I'll watch over him." Her hand still on his forehead, as if she doesn't know what else to do.

Tristan says, then, "Yes. The pain killers are good." As if they were his New Best Friend. He flashes a weak smile at Isabelle.

Martin rises when Lucretia is done and looks for something to wash his hands with.

Addison stands and looks down at his ruined sweater. "We can move him in to your room, Belle."

Addison moves over to the bar where there may be a sink and, more likely, the healing power of mojitos.

Lucretia begins cleaning up the excess blood. "We'll want to get him cleaned up - if you like, I can send an intern from the hospital to help, your highness," she tells Isabelle as she works. "And of course I'm not far away." She rises as well, bundling up the bloodied gauze. There's now neat stitches in Tristan's chest and bandaging over that.

Isabelle says, "Thank you, Addison."

Tristan says, "Thank you, Doctor who I do not know."

Isabelle says to Lucretia, "No, I'll take care of getting us both cleaned up, thank you."

Isabelle automatically introduces, "Oh, Lady Lucretia, this is my boyfriend. Tristan."

Isabelle says, "Prince Tristan."

Martin looks around for Addison, "Did you find a sink?"

Isabelle says, "Son of my uncle formerly known as King Eric."

"I found a sink," Addison says, disappearing behind the bar. "And oh my God is this bar stocked. Wow. I think some of these bottles are illegal."

Lucretia nods to Isabelle, then to Tristan. "Both a pleasure and a business to meet you." She smiles, rising to her feet. "Sink! Sink would be lovely." She stuffs the gauze into her bag. "Martin, you can go first if you like. I'm used to this."

A cute short maid with long brown hair from the Rebman embassy, especially eager to find Martin clears her throat as she enters the solar, "P-p-p... Baron Martin? I have a message for you." She stutters in spite of her adoring look. "The staff said you were here, your highness."

Addison pops up from behind the bar with a bottle of something that looks dangerously green. "I think I will drink this. It's green." He eyes the maid. "It never ends for you, does it, Martin?"

Tristan says to Isabelle, "Tell your mother I'm sorry about making a mess on the floor."

Martin eyes the Maid then Addison as he quickly finishes cleaning up his hands. "Apparently not." he tells his friend and flashes a smile at the adoring maid. "What is it?"

Addison looks at the bottle like he is looking at a legal document. "Absinthe. I hear if you drink it you can see the green fairy."

Isabelle tells Tristan, "Hopefully it will be cleaned up before she finds out. Can you walk at all? I can get the bathtub filled."

The Maid hands Martin a letter stained with blood. He stares at it opens it, looks pale and flails a hand for Addison. "Something strong to drink. Please."

Tristan grasps Isabelle's shoulder in answer, slowly, slowly, slowly moving to side his feet to the floor.

Addison pulls out two glasses. He pours two dangerously green drinks. He slides one before Martin. "What is it, Martin?"

Isabelle's eyes widen as Tristan stands. She reaches a blood-crusted arm to put around him.

Lucretia moves to begin washing her own hands, eyeing the ruin of her gown with a philosophical expression. "I favour blue myself," she tells Addison, then adds, "I need to consult you later on a legal matter." She turns to look at Martin for a moment, curious, then turns to track her patient. "...If you need help - I'd rather you not lose any more blood."

"Alright, let's let Martin get past the fourth crisis of the night," Addison says as he ducks behind the bar and looks for something blue. "There is fruit punch flavored schapps back here. It's blue. Will that do?"

Martin takes the glass and perhaps unwisely downs it completely in one motion. "I will never understand them." He croaks. He seems to remember Tristan and Isabelle and looks over to them and Lucretia and the message in his hand as if attempting to figure out which Drama he'd rather stay with.

The maid simply looks at him hopefully. "She looked really sad, your highness."

Addison's eyes go to Martin as he comes up, sure enough, with a bottle of something blue.

Apparently the maid is really interested in being the replacement.

Tristan waves his hand to Lucretia, walking very slowly (with Isabelle's help) wherever Isabelle goes.

Isabelle openes the door to her room. There is a giant black dog who backs away from the door, as if he's been sitting on the other side with his nose near the door handle. He woofs at Tristan. Isabelle, meanwhile, calls, "Thank you, Lady Lucretia. Thank you Martin. Thank you Addy!"

Addison slides a drink of blue to Lucretia and puts his elbows on the counter of the bar. He takes a sip of absynthe, and makes a face at it. Woah.

Lucretia is not Drama, but merely Doctor. General Hospital, anyone? She smiles to Isabelle. "Quite welcome. Call me if there's any need." She turns to glance between Addison and Martin curiously. "Thank you." She picks up the glass, sips judiciously. "...It even tastes blue."

Martin looks slightly unsteady after drinking that so quickly. "Lir on a bike." he mutters. "Thank you for bringing this er... " he snaps a finger as though trying to remember the maid's name. "Lilah."

The maid's smile is a 1000 watts when he remembers her name.

"You can go back now." Martin says firmly.

The maid looks crestfallen but turns to follow orders.

Addison is glaring at the glass of absynthe. "I think you are supposed to sip this. It is about a million proof."

Lucretia peers curiously at Martin. "Everything all right, I hope?" She looks to Addison. "Mais oui."

Martin says, "It dulls the pain." He presses a hand against a counter. "Addison. He wants her to be my -bodyguard-. I don't understand." He sets the glass down. "No, Lucy, sorry. Not at all."

Addison stares at Martin, and he, too, imbibes in an unhealthy amount of absynthe. Somehow it gets down. "He wants Heulwen to be your /bodyguard/? Well, that is certainly a cunning solution."

Lucretia blinks. Once, twice, three times. "Wait. Heulwen? Mostyn's sister, Heulwen?"

Martin nods, faintly. "My girlfriend." he explains to Lucretia and rubs his forehead. "At least I want her to be."

Lucretia says mildly, "That would give her good reason to either protect you or kill you, depending on her mood day to day."

Addison stares at his glass. "This is awful. I don't think I was supposed to drink this straight. Doesn't this make you hallucinate?" He sets the glass down. "Well, Martin, you're definitely going to wander about the place writing mournful poetry and angsting for a bit, won't you? Servalle did quite stab you good."

Martin jams the note into his jacket pocket. "I still have one card to play. Vialle said she'd speak to him." He take a step forward then looks a little out of it. "Crap. That stuff..." he blinks severa times. "I'm going to need to sit down. "I love her, L ucy."

Addison takes a couple of steps from behind the bar and goes, "Woah. The floor used to be level in here."

Lucretia looks sympathetic. All it really takes is mentioning the L word to her to get that. "Well, do you want to marry her? What do you want from this, Martin? If I can help, of course..."

Addison drops in to the chair next to Martin with a wumph noise. He still has the glass of toxic green death in one hand. He gives it a suspicious look.

Martin dips into his jacket but instead of bringing out his usual packet of cigarettes he brings out a bag instead. "Huh, I forgot I had these. I *do* but not right now. I mean we've only known each other for six weeks and I thought hey were going to take her away and ask me to marry an Ygrayne."

Martin shudders.

Addison leans forward and pulls out his box of matches. He hands them across the Martin.

Lucretia looks politely blank, giving Addison the clueless look of someone to whom Rebman politics are somewhat less known than the back woods of Borneo. "Oh," she says intelligently. Then, "Well. Does she know you're in love with her?"

Martin says, "I sang her a song tonight," he dumps the contents of the bag on the counter. A number of small things that look like cigarettes. He starts to hum a few versus."

Addison watches what Martin is doing like someone who has no idea what Martin is doing. "Martin, what are you doing? I thought you were lighting up a ciggie."

Martin grins and then snickers, "this is better than a ciggie."

"Oh yeah?" Addison looks interested. He sets the glass of green death aside and leans forward. "Really?"

Martin grins at them both, "Lucy, you game for an adventure?"

Lucretia smiles. "Always," she declares. "Though, what and when? So I can see if it conflicts with any of the others on my schedule!"

"I suspect," Addison says, watching Martin, "he means right now."

Martin says, "This only takes a puff." He tosse one to Addison and then pinches the sides of his own. He fishes for his matches and lights one. "You won't regret it, especially after days like today."

Addison lights up! He tries dragging on it like a cigarette and starts choking immediately.

Martin snickers a lot and slips down to lean against the counter. He takes a long easy drag and exhales, demonstrating.

Addison watches Martin, and then emulates the exact same motion. Long easy drag, holding it, exhales.

Martin offers one to Lucy. "Joining us?"

Martin seems quite pleased when Addison gets how to handle these particular ciggies. "Special blend from Terrah."

Lucretia smiles. "Just a little, then," she relents. "I've got a date in an hour." She accepts the cigarette, examining it curiously.

Addison closes his eyes as the warm suffuses every bit of his being and between the weed and the absynthe, he actually begins to unwind a little. He slumps down in the chair, takes another deep drag, and says, "Well."

Martin sprawls back against the counter, "Yeah... I'm glad I still had a bag of these." he drawls and starts to hum the tune he sang for Heulwen.

"I feel like," Addison says, sounding a little out of it, "I could write my novel. My mind is full of fantastic ideas about... novels. And Rose. And novels. And other..." He whirls a finger in the air. "... stuff."

Martin laughs like a little boy. "I once did a whole concert like this. It was trippin'." He tells Addison. "I wouldn't recommend it though. I had a bitch of a headache the next day. But man... it makes everything alright."

"I once appeared in court utterly knackered," Addison admits, "but the case was trivial and stupid and the client was stiffing me on the bill. Decade ago, now. In Begma, I'm all adult, grown up, living on my own. Crappy flat, bad help, stole all my silver. Amber? Hell with that."

Martin reaches over to smack Addison on the shoulder in approval. "Sweet." he says as he takes another long drag of the small cigarette. "That reminds me of the time my drummer ran off with the base player and skipped town. Do you know how hard it is to shadow find a drummer when you're drunk?"

"No," Addison says, the Honesty of Weed beginning to kick in, especially as he takes another drag. It is all Honesty from here on out. "I have no idea how to hard it is to find a drummer in shadow when you're drunk."

Lucretia offers it back to Martin after a cautious puff, leaning against the counter. "Interesting," she murmurs dreamily. "Rather like those mushrooms in that stew, only without the man-sized killer rabbits."

"That is all I need right now," Addison says. "Man-sized killer rabbits."

Martin snickers again, "I remember mushrooms once, bad mushrooms they were. I don't like them. I was lost for days before I was steady enough to get back. That was different. The strange things you run across in shadow while drunk."

Lucretia nods slowly, and goes on nodding far longer than she needs to. "Right," she agrees intelligently. "Shadows are weird that way. I don't suppose - oh, well, you know those candies? The ones stuck on paper, in pink and blue and green and red and yellow and orange and purple and - and, I forget. What was I saying again?"

"I've not been out there," Addison says, waving his joint around as a gesturing device. "I'm bloody son of Basil Dare, not his High and Mightiness King of Muckity Muck. I just see dead people. I've been out with your Father, Martin, to do something exceedingly weird, but wandering around drunk for no good reason? No, I've never done."

Martin says, "Wandering around drunk and trying to shadow shift!" triumphantly. He puffs and hands it back to Lucy. "candles... you were talking about candles in your bordoir?"

Addison eyes Lucretia. "You have candles in your boudoir? Should I get some? Rose's room is right there." He gestures in the direction of Rose's room.

Lucretia inhales deeply, then offers the cigarette to Addison. "I have candles in my boudoir," she agrees dreamily, "and I'm trying to turn it into the room I had when I was high priestess. I'm going to surprise him." She laughs. "Going to wear my high priestess costume. It's got a feathered headdress. Do either of you know where I can get peacock feathers? Oh, wow." She spots her drink. "That's REALLY blue. Don't you think it's blue?"

Addison tokes deeply and passes off to Martin. "I bought Isabelle the most atrocious tiara in the market place. It had peacock feathers. You should get one."

Martin tilts his head, "Peacock feathers? I could get you those, but not right now. Tiara? You don't get a woman a tiara man you SING to her."

Addison adds, "Martin sings all these songs. And writes them. And stuff. Apparently, it gets him laid."

Martin nods sagely at Addison, "Thousands of screaming fans."

Addison says, "I want thousands of screaming fans." He is in Honesty mode. "All screaming. Fanlike."

Martin leans over and then slides to the floor. "I once played a crowd of over 100,000."

"Really?" Addison leans forward and his accent is getting thicker. "What was it like? Was it incredible?"

Lucretia rubs her forehead, leaning against the bar so she's propped up woozily by her forearms. "Never had that," her voice is a bit blurred. "Just a doctor, that's me. Well, and other stuff. Did girls throw their knickers at you?"

Martin grins at Lucretia, "That's not all they throw at me." he waggles his brows.

Lucretia looks confused. "Really? What else do they throw at you?" If she were only sober, she'd know.

Martin whispers, "Edible bras."

Lucretia looks shocked. "But the underwire must be hell on their digestion!"

Martin snickers a lot and takes another puff of the ciggie.

"I'm in the wrong line of business," Addison says. "Z'not my fault. I was first packed off to Begma when I was ten. Brought round to be a prop for my family. Look at our family! It is Feldane! Is it not marvelous! Stopped coming 'round when I was eighteen entirely. No good at bloody engineering. No big music bands and girls and 100,000 fans or anything like that." He stares at Martin. "REALLY? What did they taste like?"

Martin says, "Strawberries."

Addison says, "WOAH."

Addison is leaning forward so much in the chair he looks like he is about to fall out.

Lucretia looks over at Addison, barely holding herself up. She lifts a finger, waving it at him. "Your family doesn't like me," she pouts at him. "And -" Whups, gone again. She lolls her head in Martin's direction. "They make strawberry bras?"

Lucretia adds, thoughtfully, "Wouldn't it be gooshy?"

"You ARE a bloody Mandrake!" Addison says, all full of Honesty. "You're all... evil... or no... that is us... we're all bloody evil! Of course we don't like you!"

Addison falls out of the chair on the floor.

Lucretia's pout quivers. Her eyes fill with tears. "Am NOT evil," she sniffs. "I'm NICE."

Addison lays there. "I am pretty sure I am evil. Look. Evil." He struggles into a sitting position, and that means another gulp of absinthe, which is mixing with the weed to form something fascinating indeed.

Martin grins, "Well that's the point. mushy. I don't know I'm not a girl!" he protests. "You're not evil. No one is evil! Everybody is nice. We all love each other." he starts to sing an obscure song.

Lucretia thunks out of view behind the counter suddenly. From below, there's a muffled, "Ow... ...hey, I found a bracelet. Anybody lose a bracelet?"

Addison yells, "I love you, Martin! You are my TRUE LOVE!"

Martin says, "Right back atcha."

Addison gives Martin the thumb's up.

Lucretia says blearily, "Hey, if you two want to start making out, I'll watch to make sure nobody comes in." She's not getting up, though. Some lookout.

"I can't make out with him," Addison says darkly. "I'm all engaged. And evil. I'd get evil all over the HEIR of REBMA."

Martin says, "I'm not into guys, man, but I love you anyway." he waves his hands and goes from one song to another without skipping a beat.

Addison says, "Me neither. And Rose is unbelievably hot." He gets all the way to sitting up. He tries to sing Martin's song but he doesn't know the words so he kind of warbles along.

Martin glances over at Addison, and pauses in the song, "IIs she? Heulwen is hot too....I mean, I haven't done anything other than kiss her but she's hot. Of course you are too, Lucy."

"Who, Rose? Well, she is quite brilliant," Addison says starting to wander on this topic, "and has a very keen mind and is very understanding and keen on pens and beautiful and she does these things in bed and I am rather in love with her and now I do wish she was here but these things happen and and and..."

Martin reaches over to punch Addison in the shoulder playfully but misses and punches the chair instead. "Ow!"

Addison points at Martin and starts laughing.

Martin laughs at his hand and the couch, then Addison.

Lucretia sighs. "I'm into men, not boys. And I'm horribly in love," she admits dreamily. She lies down on the floor for a moment, eyes closed. "Thank you, Martin. You're cute, you know. So's Addy, of course. But I don't notice so much, anymore. Where's the - you don't need a doctor, do you? I don't think I can staaaand."

Addison starts laughing at Martin, and the couch, and Lucretia. And then Martin again. He falls over with a horrific case of the giggles.

Martin looks forlorn that they're running out of the cigarette. "We probably shouldn't light another one these get a bit potent." He snickers a bit more. "I could try and carry you. Don't you have a date?"

Addison tries to get off the floor. He manages an elbow. Hair falls out of the ponytail and into his face. "Are you seeing Erasmus? We could get you there. I think."

Lucretia looks around paranoidly. "Erasmus? Where do you see him? I don't see him!" She pulls herself up by her fingernails, leaning against the counter, staggering a bit. "Oh, no! I've got to go, I'll be late!"

Martin says, "Lucy you going to make it? He looks worried. Hang on... I got a tingly in my head."

Martin is lying back against a counter, the room is a bit smokey and he's got blood all over his shirt.

Addison tries to stand but a combination of pot and absinthe mixing in his system is making this a nearly impossible task. "Don't we have servants? Can't we order a cart or one of those carried chairs or something?"

Martin says, "Hey, Servalle, whats up?" He snickers. "Not my blood. Someone got shot and I helped carry them here. Then I fell. I've been here ever since. But don't worry Addison and Lucretia are here."

Martin is apparently looking into a mirror.

Addison stares at Martin as he talks into a mirror. Then he yells, "HEY SERVALLE WE'RE DRUNK HERE!"

Lucretia looks at Addison, suddenly excited. She crawls up onto the bar top. "Wheelchairs! Then we could have wheelchair races in the hallways!"

Martin glances over at Lucretia, "What? Can't you walk? I'll help you." He starts to rise then falls down again. "I got a message, Sir." he starts to snicker when he can't get up.

Addison points at Martin and starts laughing all over again.

Martin glances around "Hey were are we, anyway?"

Martin says, "Oh right!"

Martin says, "Princess Florimel's Boudoir."

Martin smiles widely, as if that's the best place in the world to be.

Addison yells, "We're in the Citron Solar, Servalle!"

Martin adds, "The Citron solar!

Martin says, "Servalle's comin'"

Addison says, "Oh dear God we need to get UP." Addison starts clawing at the chair behind him attempting to climb up in to it. After several tortured minutes, he manages to get in to the chair. Barely. Kind of.

Martin attempts to rise but fails miserably. "Ow..." He knocks his head on the top of the counter.

Isabelle walks outside after some time. She's wearing different cloths, and George is with her. And yes, she's cleaned up.

Martin has just knocked his head on the top of the counter in an attempt to rise, the room is smokey and filled with what is probably the smell of pot.

Lucretia has managed to pull herself to her feet by now, and is leaning with eyes closed against the edge of the bar. "...I really need to get home," she mutters. "...before the kettle boils dry."

George instantly trots in the direction of the source of the pot.

Addison manages to get twisted around in the chair. His eyes are bloodshot, he is covered in Tristan's blood, his hair is mostly loose and he is sitting up, kind of. The whole solar smells funny. "You need servants to carry you in a chair, Lucy. An evil chair."

Isabelle says, "Tristan is finally clean and sleeping." Tiredness in her voice. "What's going on in here?"
Its a bag on the counter top. a small bag. An old bag. It looks like its several months old at least. "We're having a party." Martin says helpfully as he tries to pull himself up to get the bag. George is probably faster than him.

Addison stares at Isabelle, points, and breaks out in giggles all over again.

Martin says, "Isabelle! You have two twin sisters!"

Martin starts to snicker as Addison giggles.

Lucretia pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don't need an evil chair," she answers plaintively.

Addison snowballs as Martin starts to snicker and he doubles over in giggles.

George's nose is tilted up sniffling at the bag. His tail wags tentatively.

Isabelle says, "Oh la marijuana." She smles.

Martin grins broadly at Isabelle, "Yup. Special brand. All gone now." he says sadly. "Everybody Dead."

Lucretia frowns, shaking her head. "How does a chair get to be evil, anyway? Does it have to go to evil chair school?"

Isabelle says, "George." But his tail is still wagging slowly. When wagging quickly, it is strong enough to clear a normal coffeetable.

Addison looks very serious all the sudden, like a switch. "Everyone is dead? Were they killed by evil chairs?"

Martin says, "The band is gone. My favorite car.." He sighs and looks sorrowful down at the bag of pot. "This is all I have left and my guitar that doesn't work in Amber."

Martin says, "They all died."

Corwin opens the door and holds it open for Servalle.

Servalle follows Corwin, gratefully. "Ah. Here we are."

Martin is attempting to balance himself on a counter, he's covered with blood. There's a definate smell of pot in the air.

And the bottle of Absinthe is open.

Addison is sitting in one of the chairs with a glass of green, bloodshot eyes, covered in blood all over a knit sweater and smelling of pot. He just opens his eyes and stares. And then he busts out into giggles again.

Corwin looks around the room, taking it in. He says, "Yep, here we are. Not sure it's where we want to be though."

Isabelle, on the other hand, has just entered from her own doorway. Her hair is still damp from a bath. Her dog George is sniffing toward a bag on the counter.

Martin is attempting to make a grasp for the bag, he misses and ends up knocking it off the table. Pot scatters all over the carpet.

Isabelle, clearly not high, "Good evening Uncle Corwin."

Addison just points at the Crown Regent and the Rebman Ambassador and starts laughing like them walking in is the funniest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Martin says, "Hey, Did you know Isabelle has two twin sisters?"

Servalle looks around for a moment. "No, I believe this is the perfect place to be. Good evening, Martin."

Isabelle says, "And good evening, Ambassador."

Isabelle says to Corwin, "Tristan was shot. Ethan is still all right. They captured soeone. Kincaid brought us back."

Martin tries a smile, "Hello Your Majesty" he tells George, then in the direction of Servalle's voice, "Servalle? You here?"

Servalle says, "Your Highness. Lord Feldane." He walks over to Martin, and sits down in the nearest chair. "Good evening, Martin."

Corwin looks to Isabelle and cracks a smile. "Hiya, Princess." Then he pauses, before saying, "Shot? Where? How?"

Martin says, "And we had a wodnerful talk with Brand."

Addison tries to leverage himself out of his chair to get up and bow properly but this fails and he ends up sitting back down again. "Good evening!" he says brightly.

Isabelle says, "They were on the black road, or near it. They found some places. I just happened to trump Tristan. He'd just been shot. Kincaid pulled the bullet out of him. He's sleeping in my room." She thumbs toward the door behind her, then waves at the air.

Isabelle says, "I should say, they found some Interesting places."

Corwin says, "Have him come to me when he is awake and able."

Addison says, suddenly sounding a bit upset, "Tristan ought to be dead but he didn't seem to get 'round to it, really."

Isabelle says, "I will. I think it'll be a few days."

Lucretia cracks her eyes open, massaging her temples. Oh, look. More people. She blinks a couple of times. "I fixed him up," she remarks a bit absently. Even intoxicated, she can handle doctorly things. "Thirty-six stitches. Whoever remembered the projectile was a meatball surgeon."

Corwin nods to Isabelle, then looks around the room, scowling. "As for the rest of you reprobates, you better think long and hard before pulling something like this..." The scowl gives way to a smile. "Without inviting me."

Servalle gets a strangely mischevious smile, and leans down to whisper in Martin's ear.

Martin runs a hand through his haird, "Sorry, your Majesty. I've had a bad day. One thing after the other."

Martin eyes Servalle.

Isabelle smiles at Corwin as if she suddenly likes him.

Isabelle says, "Though Marty says there's no more of la marijuana."

Martin says, "No, that's the last of it. Its all over the floor now." He sighs, then looks wide eyed at Servalle."The... what?"

Corwin turns around and heads out, saying, "Flora may not share my views, however," over his shoulder.

Addison looks a bit conciliatory. "I'd no idea we were having a party. Martin sprung it on us. I don't think I can get out of the chair. It's glued to me or I to it or something like that but I am not so sure any more."

Addison eyes Servalle. SERVALLE. In that dark voice. In his head. SERVALLE.

Servalle smiles at Martin. "I said that things will be alright."

Martin looks hopeful. "Will they be. If she leaves. I don't want her to leave."

Isabelle says, "George, come."

George drags himself away from the bag and trots over to Isabelle.

Servalle says, "We came to an agreement, Martin."

Servalle says, "She and I."

Addison says, "I should go in to Rose's room and light a bunch of candles or something."

Lucretia continues to lean against the bar, rather as if trying to move might be a mistake. "Don't set fire to the curtains," she tells Addison seriously. "Random set fire to the library."

Martin nods sagely at Addison. "Like the candles in Lucy's room!" He attempts to keep himself upright, resting on the counter. "I love her." He declares. "The tide to my sea, the sea to my tide...er.."

Martin says, "Heulwen I mean."

Servalle folds his hands together, and rests his chin on them. He has no moral qualms, it seems, with exploiting the stoned. "You and I must have an agreement, Martin, and you and she must as well."

Martin snuffles, "I don't want to marry an Ygrayne."

Addison says, "Martin loves Heulwen. He says as much. Alot."

Lucretia nods. "He does," she agrees helpfully. "But doesn't want to marry her yet."

Isabelle is about to go into her room with her dog when she overhears Servalle. She calls to Martin, "Don't make /any/ agreements!"

Martin says, "We've only known each other six weeks.'

"No," Addison says trying to be helpful to his new Bestest Friend Ever. "He wants to go around with her a bit first."

Servalle says, "Yet. That is a very important word, Martin. Yet implies that things change. Can you see her as your wife?"

Isabelle, the only one not High aside from Servalle, "Martin!"

Addison is squinting, trying to imagine Heulwen as a Settled Down Little Wife in the Kitchen. All he can imagine is Heulwen in a plaid skirt with a shiv.

Isabelle opens the door for George, who reluctantly trots into Isabelle's room while she makes her way through the smoke to Martin's side.

Lucretia sniffles, just slightly. "So sweeeeet."

Isabelle mutters to Martin, "Martin,... anything, you're..."

Martin glances from Lucy, Addison, Isabelle and back to Servalle. He runs his hands through his hair. "Not yet, Servalle. I want her. I want to get to know her. I love her." He tries to pay attention to Isabelle. "I think so, I don't know. I don't want to marry anyone else."

Martin says, "And I definitely don't want to marry Addison."

Isabelle says, "Martin. Be quiet."

Isabelle says, "You're High, you're going to be sorry."

"What?" Addison exclaims. "I am not marrying Martin! He's all... Randomy!"

Isabelle glances at Addison, "Addy, do something."

Servalle's voice is friendly, comforting, and implies that Isabelle is not worthy of the slightest attention. "I want you to be happy, Martin, and I want Heulwen to be happy. I /want/ to support the two of you in this."

Addison does something. He reaches for his absinthe glass and misses. He then stands in a wobbly manner and points a finger and says in a lawyerly voice, "I say, something wrong is going on here and it must be stopped!" Then he sits down again and says to Belle, "Did that do anything?"

Servalle looks up at Addison and unleashes a newly aquired weapon. "Addison. Does her Highness know you are here?"

Isabelle says, "Addy, no, look, Servalle is the Ambassador and Martin -- our cousin -- is the Heir and he's being meddled with."

Addison gets big eyes and cringes a bit. "Er............... no?"

Servalle says, "I thought not."

Addison starts looking for Rose, or worse, FLORA.

Isabelle glances at Servalle, paying a bit more attention.

Martin looks a bit like a helpless sheep caught by a wolf. He wants to say something but he doesn't know what to say. "I..." he swallows.

Isabelle insists, "Addy, Rose would love for you to be here, and mother wouldn't mind either. What's High, afterall, after Tristan bled everywhere?"

Isabelle says, "Martin don't say anything more about your Feelings!"

Isabelle is at least Earnest.

Lucretia just watches at this point, looking interestedly if a bit awkwardly between the three men and Isabelle. "Marriage is a great institution," she proclaims, "but I have to agree with the princess. Never get married while drunk or poked with a sword."

Isabelle tries to wave some of the pot air away.

Servalle says, "Mm. Your sister and I, your Highness, have just concluded a very interesting conversation on a number of topics. Lord Feldane did come up, I must confess."

Addison has the temerity to look horrified.

Lucretia looks scandalized at Addison. "You /dog/!"

Martin is relieved when the attention shifts to Addison. "What happened!"

Isabelle looks at Addison as if she cannot believe how he is behaving.

Addison says, "What did you do to Rose, Servalle?"

Servalle looks at Addison, and his smile is pleasantly satisfied. "We enjoyed a bottle of one of the finer Aventia vintages, and discussed mutual acquaintances, and parted on wishes of a closer future relationship."

Martin asks Isabelle, "Can you please go find my mother Vialle?"

Addison's eyes are huge. "You better not be making moves on my fiancee you old... old... old... old man!"

Servalle's eyes shoot to Martin. "Your mother?"

Martin says, "She said she was. Step mother. I'm so confused."

Servalle says, "Mm. We are in a confusing land, Martin."

Martin says, "Hey, that pillow has something alive in it. It's changing shape."

Addison is still utterly horrified at Servalle having some kind of relationship with Rose. He is so horrified he falls out of his chair with a thump.

Isabelle says, "Oh yes. I'll go get her." She hurries off.

Servalle says, "Martin."

Addison looks up from where he lays on the floor and then props himself up on his elbows.

Martin stares at Addison. "Servalle... and Rose?" He stares at Servalle. "You have sex?"

Servalle says, "Mm. Imagine how irritated I would be if I didn't."

Lucretia looks as if she has a headache. "What on earth is going on," she asks plaintively. "I - WHAT?" She stares at Martin and Servalle.

Martin slides off the countertop to the floor.

Addison looks horrified at the entire concept that Servalle has sex. He says, "You have sex?"

Martin is on the floor, there's the distinct smell of pot in the room. Martin is also covered in someone else's blood.

Addison is pretty much the same as Martin at this point.

Vialle arrives with her hand on Random's elbow. Whatever Isabelle said to her has given her a look of determination.

Servalle is sitting upright, and seems stone cold sober, although perhaps enjoying himself too much. "I don't see why it should be such a surprise."

Random escorts Vialle in. He was wearing a dubious look to start with, and when he surveys the scene, it becomes even more dubious. "You're about to start an orgy?"

Martin says, "The pillow is still moving."

Vialle says, "Martin?"

Lucretia says, "It's not what, it's who with!"

Servalle looks up, and rises from his seat. "Your Highness. Lady Vialle...And your Highness. So good to see you again so soon."

Martin is down on the floor. "Vialle? Down here. Its nice down here."

Addison looks up as Random and Vialle enter, and wonders why there are multiple Randoms in this universe. He tries to get up off the floor again, and utterly fails. He just lies there again, propped up on his elbows, and says, "I believe my mind has been now scarred for life."

Vialle looks in the direction of Martin. Then she says, "It smells strange in here."

Martin says, "Its the GOOD stuff!"

Lucretia is leaning against the bar, arms now folded against it. She shakes her head slowly. There's some sanity beginning to be restored, but the expression on her face remains half-horrified.

Addison says, from the floor, "Martin has some fantastic and interesting ciggies. Went well with the absinthe."

Servalle says, "I believe they've been smoking something more noxious than usual, my Lady."

Rose enters and takes in the scene slowly.

Addison tries to brush the hair out of his face but it just falls back in. So he blows it out with a 'pfft'.

Martin starts to snicker at Addison. "That is the best for a bad day, man."

"It's not that good if you're still clothed," comments Random, in his been-there, done-that, would-have-gotten-the-T-shirt-except-it-was-ripped-from-my-body-by-a-rabidly-fannish-girl-you-betcha, voice.

Addison catches on to Martin snickering and he starts giggling all over again.

Rose sighs but does not look cross. "Addison," she says very slowly.

Addison looks up very slowly and peers at Rose through his hair.

Martin says, "Hey, its your princess! She -is- hot!"

Vialle says, "Martin, are you hurt in anyway?" Vialle might be Martin's step-mother, it might also be true that she often has the fragility of Ingrid Bergman, but apparently she has a bit of a protective She Wolf archetype inside of her too.

Servalle says, "Intoxicated, nothing more."

Rose smiles at Martin, "How *kind* of you to say, so, your HIGHness."

Martin shakes his head, "I don't think so. But I can't feel anything so if I was. Its a happy kind of hurt."

Martin says, "That pillow is REALLY starting to freak me out, someone kill it please?"

Random glances over at Rose. "You're right, she's hot," he agrees with Martin.

Servalle says, "Martin. The pillow is not moving."

Vialle says, "Random, do something."

Addison says, very slowly, "Hullo, Your HIGHness Rosalynd." And he starts looking around for the pillow. "What pillow, Martin?"

Vialle manages to frown at Random, disapproving, over this 'hot' remark.

Addison gives Rose a look that says /I think I need rescuing but I can no longer feel my legs./

Lucretia just shakes her head, straightening up very, very slowly. "I'm never listening to you again," she tells Martin. She looks in Vialle's direction, starts to say something, and either thinks better of it or loses track of what she was going to say.

Martin attempts to get up to attack the pillow, he looks like he might even be ready to draw his saber but he can't find it.

Random asks Martin, "Got any more of whatever it is you'e been smoking?"

Martin points at the floor, distracted from his heroic attempt at saving everyone from the pillow. "I knocked it off the counter." He says mournfully.

Martin says, "But I could go shadow find some more I think!"

Servalle exhales heavily.

Addison says, "Not tonight, though. I am starting to get a smashing headache, Martin."

Rose says to Martin, "How valiant of you." Her expression says, 'I have a very good memory and I will bring all this up later.' She then says to Addison, "Do you need some help, dear?"

Addison offers his hand to Rose. "Yes. The floor is eating me."

Lucretia reaches, rather shakily, for her doctor's bag and satchel. "I think this party's breaking up. And I'm late."

Martin says, "Tell Erasmus its not my fault!"

Random heads in approximately the direction that Martin pointed, looking at the floor. "What else was this laced with?"

Addison yells, "Tell Erasmus hullo for me!"

Servalle smiles strangely at Lucretia. "Oh yes, give him my regards as well."

Random adds, "And is there a girl here who'd appreciate having you dumped in her bed now?"

Rose takes Addison's hand and pulls him easily to his feet.

Martin tells Random, "A bit of this and that, we made it just before our last concert. A tribute to one of the band members who died." He says, "But now they're all dead."

Lucretia turns an interesting shade; it's somewhere between fuchsia and magenta. "I will pass along all your regards to the Commander the next time I see him, but as I haven't seen him in days and days, I'm not sure why you're telling ME."

Martin tries to get to his feet again, but fails miserably.

Lucretia stalks mightily off in the direction of the door - and misses, walking into the doorframe. "...Ow."

Addison is heaved to his feet and stands there, swaying, looking very dubious about this standing thing. It requires leaning on Rose.

Servalle moves to take Martin's elbow. "I will see you home, I believe."

To Rose, Addison leans over and says, "I love you and if Lord Bloody Servalle touches you I will give him such a kicking."

Rose calls after Servalle, "Ambassador, Lovely to see you again." She then turns back to Addison.

Random shifts his gaze to Servalle. "Got a girl to put him to bed with?"

Lucretia backs up a step and tries this again. This time, she succeeds, albeit while rubbing her nose with a slightly pouty look.

Addison cannot stand without his Rose-shaped crutch.

Martin staggers to his feet, helped up.

Servalle bows to Rose, somehow managing to keep a grip on Martin's elbow. "Good evening, your Highness. I look forward to it."

Privately, Rose says, "The ambassador is quite the gentleman. It turns out we have much in common."

Addison looks suddenly quite horrified.

Servalle gives Addison a little wave.

Addison looks even MORE horrified. Like, Servalle has tentacles coming out of his face horrified.

Privately, Rose says, "See? Servalle is friendly."

"Oh dear LORD," Addison says loudly, "I am so going to have nightmares now! And not even my own pillow to stab!"

Random walks over to clasp Martin's shoulder briefly. "Hope you like the girl he has in mind for you. We'll talk later, huh?"

Addison clutches to Rose for Dear Life.

Rose says gently to Addison, "Let's get you to bed, Darling."

Servalle says, less gently, to Martin "Come along now. You're in need of bed."

Addison says, low, "Izz gonna light candles for you and make it all romantic but then I couldn't get out of the bloody chair."

Rose laughs, "That's nice, Dear. Mind that bump in the rug, there."

Martin looks from Servalle to Random. He looks a bit like someone caught in a net. "I... I... " he starts to say.

Addison trips over the bump in the rug, but stays standing thanks to holding on to Rose. He mutters something about love, and then about Tristan not being properly dead like he should be.

Servalle says, "Mm. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to take care of you. Good evening, everyone."

Rose holds on to Addison with one arm as she opens her door with her free hand. She actually curtseys to Servalle as he departs.

Addison yells, "See you later, Martin! Don't get stabbed!"

Servalle gives Rose a warm, friendly smile as he leads Martin out the other hallway.

Martin groans, trying hard to put one foot in front of the other.

--[ Rose's Suite ]----------------------------------------[ Royal Palace ]----

Addison manages to get in to the room! A victory for the forces of good!

Rose sees Addison into bed and makes a note to send for a change of clothes from the Feldane suite.

Addison manages to get his blood-covered knit sweater, trousers, shoes and socks off and manages to climb in to bed. He is unconscious about .5 seconds later.

Rose piles the clothes where the servants can wash them and pours herself a drink before preparing for sleep, herself.