A Drunken Interlude

By Kryss LaBryn

A/N: This was written a while ago, but if I recall correctly, it was for a Bad Pun challenge. I know for sure it was a Shadow Gallery challenge response, though. Heh. There'd be a lot fewer of these without their challenges, that's for sure!

It was a dirked and stormy knight, when suddenly, the shots ran out.

"Bugger," muttered V, staring blearily into the bottom of his glass.

"This is all your fault, Montego," he added, raising the empty shot glass to an eye and staring at the indignant suit of armour before him.

It isn't, he imagined the suit stiffly replying; I hardly touched a drop. And what do you think you're doing with that? Do you think it likely to improve your focus?

"I doubt it," replied V; "But I've heard the world can seem a brighter place when seen through the bottom of a glass." However, the bottle remained empty. He regarded the once-brimming Amaretto bottle one last time before lowering the glass again. It was still void of liqueur. "And it is too your fault. You're the one who egged me on."

Well, honestly; what else was I to do? Look at me; you and your blessed daggers have ruined my finish. I'm all over holes!

"'s very fashionable," muttered V; "Very… slash 'n' puff."

The suit snorted. Slash and puff? I predate such silly fripperies by over a hundred years. Besides, you've only slashed me; there's no 'puff' involved. Really, I look quite as ridiculous now as would, say, a modern man prancing about in breeches and a doublet.

V straightened. "You take that back," he growled. "There's nothing wrong with my doublet."

Says Mister Fashionable. Mister 'I'm So Jolly Clever I'll Wear Clothes Half A Millennium Out Of Date'. Mister 'I'll Just Ponce About London In A Wig; That'll Scare Them!'. Mister 'I'll Just Emulate A Historical Character Whom No One Remembers And Who Failed In His Mission; That'll Set Their Knees a-Trembling!' Mister—

"Enough!" yelled V, throwing the shot glass at Montego's head. It missed by a good foot, bounced off a nearby tapestry, landed on and rolled off the pouf, and came to rest, intact and dribbley, on the rug. "Bugger." On the second try he managed to stagger to his feet, swaying gently a moment before he tottered off to rescue the glass.

You drunken sot, sneered the armour. Look at you. A fine rescuer of humanity you're turning out to be! At least I succeeded in my mission; you're far too pissed to fling your bloody daggers at me now! At least I can rest safe in my bed now. Me, and every last gob-headed Fingerman and Norsefire party member out there. Honestly. Would you treat the Gaugin's like this? I should hope not! Why, anyone else—

"Sod off, Montego!" groused V irritably, and backhanded the helm off the stand. It rolled to a stop under the piano, out of easy reach.

See? See? You wouldn't fling the Van Gough's about like this, would you? Noooo—The suit's voice was only slightly muffled, and utterly unrepentant. I'm a historical artefact too, you know! I deserve some respect!

"You, my friend," V pointed in the helm's general direction, "Are common as muck, possess no artistic merit, and are a fake, to boot. 'Respect'… Pfft!"

A fake? A fake?!? On what do you base such a… a false and.. and baseless accusation? A fake? Me?!

"You, a fake." V nodded for emphasis, and sank back onto the sofa, Guy's frozen lips stretched in an almost malicious smile at the suit's discomfit. "I've seen your innards, old man; I know they didn't use welders back in the fourteenth century. And besides…" he idly twirled the empty glass in his fingers, "You're taller than me. How many knights of old do you know of, who were over five feet tall, hmmm?"


"Face it, my dear Montego; all you're good for is target practice. You should be grateful that you're here at all, surrounded by actual historical artefacts, and not still cluttering up that dreadful theatre."

V smiled at the silence.

You're still out of drink, you bloody great wanker, Montego said sulkily.

V looked at the bottle and sighed, with feeling. "Bugger."

The End