[ The truth of it is, left unchecked, there is noting to stop Vanitas from drinkng himself stupid and ending up under the bar before he even realizes what happened. It's not as though he's ever the opportunity to drink alcohol before. When would have ever had the time, between all the training, and all the war? Vanitas might have had the ability to leave the Keyblade Graveyard as his whim, but he'd been well and truly under the thumb of the old man standing in the corner of the bar with his hands behind his back.
Vanitas narrow his eyes at the shot. It's not as clean as the one Bruce had made. The side of it melts into itself, and as gravity takes it, it starts to sink into that muddy colour again. Warmth is collecting under his skin, the burn of the alcohol. Vanitas can feel it simmering, making the high collar of his armor itch against his adam's apple. He raises one hand to pull at the neck of the material.
When he raises his eyes, they're a little bit darker than they had been before. His pupils a little wider, his cheeks pinking up under the effects of liquor. He doesn't yet understand how quickly this is going to affect him: he's never had a real drink in his life. ]
Why would I do that when everyone is so upset?
[ He swallows the shot and puts it on the counter, and shakes his head— a little a dog with a fly in it's ear— when a full body shiver goes through him. This feeling, it's different from the way he fills up on the despair and fear of Beacon's citizens. He's finding it harder to focus, but it creeps up on him in such a way that instead of feeling unnerved, Vanitas' cockiness only seems to intensify. He tips his head back and looks at Bruce from underneath his eyelashes with his chin jut out. ]
I could just make everyone more upset. Feed on their Darkness.
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Vanitas narrow his eyes at the shot. It's not as clean as the one Bruce had made. The side of it melts into itself, and as gravity takes it, it starts to sink into that muddy colour again. Warmth is collecting under his skin, the burn of the alcohol. Vanitas can feel it simmering, making the high collar of his armor itch against his adam's apple. He raises one hand to pull at the neck of the material.
When he raises his eyes, they're a little bit darker than they had been before. His pupils a little wider, his cheeks pinking up under the effects of liquor. He doesn't yet understand how quickly this is going to affect him: he's never had a real drink in his life. ]
Why would I do that when everyone is so upset?
[ He swallows the shot and puts it on the counter, and shakes his head— a little a dog with a fly in it's ear— when a full body shiver goes through him. This feeling, it's different from the way he fills up on the despair and fear of Beacon's citizens. He's finding it harder to focus, but it creeps up on him in such a way that instead of feeling unnerved, Vanitas' cockiness only seems to intensify. He tips his head back and looks at Bruce from underneath his eyelashes with his chin jut out. ]
I could just make everyone more upset. Feed on their Darkness.