[this from their bartender, dropping off Chilton's next drink just in time to catch sight of the lovingly rendered pants-drop. She shakes her head before moving on to her next bar guest.
Rincewind has to agree with her sentiment. He also has to give credit where credit is due - he's not sure he would have turned that page himself. Gosh. That unsettling grin of his has toned down to a self-satisfied smirk, albeit framed by ears turned a color just two shades left of his hair.]
...On the bright side, you looked to be quite enjoying yourself. [he has the audacity to give the doctor a friendly, conciliatory pat on the shoulder.] That's something. Rather commendable too, that the artist seems to think you'd work so hard for your patients. You've got to find that flattering.
[Rincewind leans back in his chair and tops off his glass. All right, so this is a strange competition to feel the victor in, but you know what? He never gets to win anything, and also he didn't start this, and also it's harmless, and also these absolutely aren't a list of justifications for being a bastard, they're just the facts.
He lifts his glass to Chilton in playful toast - the gunslinger blowing the smoke off his barrel.]
no subject
[this from their bartender, dropping off Chilton's next drink just in time to catch sight of the lovingly rendered pants-drop. She shakes her head before moving on to her next bar guest.
Rincewind has to agree with her sentiment. He also has to give credit where credit is due - he's not sure he would have turned that page himself. Gosh. That unsettling grin of his has toned down to a self-satisfied smirk, albeit framed by ears turned a color just two shades left of his hair.]
...On the bright side, you looked to be quite enjoying yourself. [he has the audacity to give the doctor a friendly, conciliatory pat on the shoulder.] That's something. Rather commendable too, that the artist seems to think you'd work so hard for your patients. You've got to find that flattering.
[Rincewind leans back in his chair and tops off his glass. All right, so this is a strange competition to feel the victor in, but you know what? He never gets to win anything, and also he didn't start this, and also it's harmless, and also these absolutely aren't a list of justifications for being a bastard, they're just the facts.
He lifts his glass to Chilton in playful toast - the gunslinger blowing the smoke off his barrel.]
Can't win them all, hm?
[and drinks.]