Probably should have left the alcohol to Athos, really.

[at_your_side]

Intoxicated. Yes, that was- that was the word she was looking for. Intoxicated was just the very thing she could use to describe herself...or her state...the state of herself?

While the details of it had become increasingly fuzzy with each of the delightful, oh so colorful cocktails the bartender sat in front of her (how many had she had again?), Constance was fairly certain the day had begun well enough. There had been a bath, a bath! One with an endless supply of hot water piped right into her room so she might lie in her tub with the dawn light filtering in through the glass of her colored windows and wiggle her toes in easy contentedness.

But then there- ah! There had been the issue of dressing. Or, rather, not of dressing but of what to dress herself in when her only...dress, yes, had been worn already for the day before. She could have made do with it if she had had to, had even pulled it on while not pulling too much of a face, but had been all too grateful upon meeting the lovely Ruby in the hallway not far from her door.

Never had she seen a woman who wore so little out in public. It had left her gaping in the second before she had recovered herself, to see so much skin on display with not so much a flicker of concern in the other woman's expression as she had smiled and introduced herself. Somehow - now here the details were particularly fuzzy at that moment - they had gotten onto the subject of Constance's singular dress and somehow further the conversation had become one of the other woman, still a stranger, but so earnestly friendly, had volunteered her help.

All of which led to her sitting there at the bar of the Smoking Room, wearing pants of all things while Ruby slid a drink in front of her. She was certain there had been sense behind the action, and no, she did not feel the least bit overexposed with the buttoned shirt she wore beneath her corset or the coat she wore that hung down to her knees (she tried not to giggle at the thought of needing to cover her bum, but was only partially successful). What was even more certain was that these - those little cocktails, they were delicious.

Comments

[soft_robot]

"Travel is not difficult for me," Baymax says. "I can deactivate until I am needed, taking a compact shape." Baymax tits his head and blinks a few times, looking almost perturbed on his blank face.

"I cannot find my location here."

[at_your_side]

Her fingers itched to touch the display, to see if the colors and lights of it would feel any different than the cool sponginess of the creature's belly before. A mixture of awareness of herself and what undeniably confusion as to what was even like protocol in such a world, with such a creature, had her refraining, still cradling her glass against her between drinks (when she remembered).

"You're in a tavern," she supplied helpfully, hoping that would be of some help.

Her imagination could not quite stretch far enough to imagine such a creature becoming compact. The idea was like imagining Porthos shrinking down, or Paris being the least bit small.

[soft_robot]

If she wishes to reach out, Baymax will happily answer any questions she might have to the best of his ability. That is, after all, one of his main directives.

"I am aware, however, I cannot place the longitude or latitude of this tavern or hotel. I am concerned that my systems are damaged."

[at_your_side]

Remembering the creature's admonishment, she continued drinking her water, her eyes glued to its white bulbous mass all the while. Cartography being far from part of her education, Constance did not immediately recognize what it meant by 'longitude or latitude' although she could roughly guess the meaning of such words when it spoke of its location. "Do you mean that you cannot place yourself on one of your," she meant to gesture at its stomach where it had shown her where its home was in California, but misjudged the distance and ended up poking its surface with her fingers. "Maps?"

[soft_robot]

Baymax nods again, "Correct. I find myself lost. It is very concerning if I cannot be available to my patients when I am needed."

Baymax scans her again, "Your hydration is improving. If you leave off drinking for the night, you will be fine in the morning."

[at_your_side]

"Should find yourself again," she said, speaking as if such a thing were definite rather than up to the whims of fate or whatever else was at work within the Nexus. "Wouldn't seem right otherwise." There she was too aware of the fact that the world did not work on whether things were right or wrong, but often felt as if it were run by chaos and chance more than fate. To say so was blasphemy on the scale of Mormont, but it wasn't as if a body could read her thoughts and inform on her to the nearest bishop.

If she did not already have enough strikes against her soul as it was, by the Church's standards.

"Wasn't thinking much about morning," she admitted, if a touch reluctantly at being caught out as not being the sensible one around. Never mind that that had been exactly her aim.

[soft_robot]

"The common name for symptoms experienced after excessive drinking is a hangover. Without adequate hydration and food, you risk experiencing nausea and an acute headache. I hope I have assisted in preventing those symptoms," Baymax says. Carefully, he reaches out and touches Constance's forehead, palm turning cool like a compress.