As soon as he feels himself begin to lift back up, Sunday's gloved hand finds the man's collar, tethering himself reflexively in place until those arms collect him once more. It is a curse of some kind, clearly — an affliction of what he's imbibed that won't wear off so soon. The only person he can blame is himself. And he does, ruthlessly.]
... Let's get out of the crowd. [Another quiet murmur of instruction. There's some mercy to the waning attention on them, but Sunday won't take any chances.] Over there. Those private booths.
[He hasn't forgotten that he was rescued, even if it was done in an extremely flashy way, so with some reticence:]
no subject
As soon as he feels himself begin to lift back up, Sunday's gloved hand finds the man's collar, tethering himself reflexively in place until those arms collect him once more. It is a curse of some kind, clearly — an affliction of what he's imbibed that won't wear off so soon. The only person he can blame is himself. And he does, ruthlessly.]
... Let's get out of the crowd. [Another quiet murmur of instruction. There's some mercy to the waning attention on them, but Sunday won't take any chances.] Over there. Those private booths.
[He hasn't forgotten that he was rescued, even if it was done in an extremely flashy way, so with some reticence:]
Thank you.