Beer? Death? Anyone?

Much to contrary belief Ian was not the same kind of kid he was a year and a half ago, before he died. No, the alive Ian wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near a cup of alcohol before he turned the legal age. The alive Ian would very much disapprove of the now dead version of himself. However, dead Ian who lived in a hotel for dead people who couldn't care, did not care about what toxic things he put into his body. Oh he did at first of course, when he didn't want to fully accept the fact that he could die and come back to life, but that way of thinking quickly passed after the first few times he died.

So there Ian was setting the last cup of beer on a pyramid of beer cups that were sitting on either side of a ping-pong table. When he was done he let out a breath of air that he didn't realize he had been holding in out of concentration. He stood back to admire his work. The pyramids were perfect, probably too perfect. He then sat down on a stool, waiting for Chips who was at this point, ten minutes late. Which is probably another reason the beer cup pyramid got so big.

Chips entered the lounge, a ciggy (specifically Marlboro, his favorite brand) clamped between his teeth, puffing out smoke from his nostrils. A couple of the greenies shot him wide looks (they were minors, he could tell, and he felt like laughing) as he blew rings out of his mouth. One of the best things about being an einherji was that he could do incredibly unhealthy things and not have to give a crap about any of it. He could literally smoke Cuban cigars all day, do the odd coke here and there, and drink himself to death and he'd still be fine and dandy the next morning.

Of course, he never did coke (bad for you), he had only smoked cigars all day once (twice--three times if you count the Ice Statue Incident), and drinking himself to death only occurred whenever Beer Pong to the Death tournaments became extremely intense. Which he was missing. Seriously--did the other einherjar suddenly have other things to do than play some b-pong with their favorite Welsh einherji? At least, he hoped he was their favorite. That one other guy was a complete and utter prick, so he should be the favorite Welsh....

And then he saw it: that beautiful construction of plastic cups that seemed to glow with a heavenly aurora.

Gee, did someone lace his cig?

"Ian!" he hollered, waving enthusiastically at the younger demigod as he made his way towards the table, hopping over a newly-made corpse as he did so. "Sorry about that, mate! Got into a rumble with some berserker. You still open?"

"I'm open." Ian said, almost laughing at the reaction shown on Chips face as the Welsh man saw the beer pong table he had set up. "Are you sure you can handle this one? The only reason its not any taller, is because I couldn't reach that far up.... Also I ran out of cups...." Ian challenged. One small thing he had learned since he had become an einherji, was that he could hold his alcohol pretty well for someone had had never drank a day in his life before coming a undying person. He probably held it better than most, but he didn't brag.

Chips snorted. "Sure I can, mate!" he said (he was quite confident in his ability hold his alcohol), carelessly waving the hand holding the cigarette (and getting ash everywhere). His eyes scanned the structure of cups. "That's a ton," he commented, pointing at them. "So, how does the loser die?" he asked.

"Hmm.... It will be up to the winner." Ian said, "You good with that? Just no impaling, since we're in the lounge." He smiled, and tossed the small green ping-pong ball to Chips. "You can start."

The einherji caught the ball with a grin. "All righty then," he said, "no impaling then." He looked over at the cups and selected his target. He then bounced the ping pong ball off the table and watched as it landed into a cup. He always bounced it; he didn't really remember when he'd started doing that, but now he hardly ever directly threw the ball into the cup. He looked up at Ian. "Cheers, mate," he snickered. He was having a blast already.

"Don't mind if I do." Ian said, as he picked up the cup, and downed it. He then picked the ball up, and took a small step back as he tossed it across the table. He watched as it landed in a cup, he smirked. "Well, like you said, Cheers mate?" Ian had been practicing, since he was determined to beat Chips in something.

Chips saluted the son of Loki with the cup and gulped it all. Damn, Ian got some good stuff--not that Bud Light crap the mortals always advertised on the telly nowadays (why the Hotel had to have mortal commercials anyway was beyond the Welsh demigod; all he ever wanted was to watch Mystery Science Theater 3000 in peace).

He bounced the ping pong ball on the table once more and watched as it (barely) went inside another cup. He looked up and winked at Ian. "This is gonna be interesting, mate," he chuckled good-naturedly. He could already feel the buzz.

"Very interesting." Ian said, as he gulped down a second beer. Maybe he should have gotten bud-light... It tasted worse, but at least it had less alcohol in it. This beer was already making him a little drunk. He picked up the ball and aimed at a cup, he tossed it and watched as it landed perfectly once again. Ian let out a sigh of relief, he had really expected it that toss too miss.

Chips was loving this. He downed the contents of the cup and slammed the now-empty cup on the table. Whoa--what stuff did Ian put in this? This stuff was amazing. Sure, it wasn't mead....but you couldn't really compare anything to mean besides other kinds of mead. He wasn't totally getting drunk yet, but when he went for the ping pong ball, his vision went a little fuzzy. "Curses!" Chips grumbled under his breath. He shut his eyes for several seconds and then blinked rapidly; when he was finally satisfied, he went for the ball again. He picked up the ball, closed one eye, bounced it off the table, and watched as it bounced over all of the other cups. "Aww--bloody hell!" Chips laughed, having too much fun to be upset.

Ian laughed, as he picked up the ping-pong ball from where it landed on the floor. He aimed it, and tossed it into a cup. However, before landing inside it, the ball had to spin around the edges then fall off into another cup. Well at least it fell in a cup. He sighed in relief. "Cheers, man." Ian said, giving Chips a wide grin. Oh he was so winning, Ian loved it.

"This is far--hic--from over--hic," Chips manage between hiccups. It made him laugh, and he had to grip onto the edge of the table for support. He always did drink too fast. He drank the entire cup, winking at Ian and giggling while he did so. He usually didn't get drunk this fast. Well, he thought,  you did drink a glass (or two) of whiskey before you came here. Stupid. He then lifted the ping pong ball. He took his time aiming, and bounced it into one of the cups--though just barely. Barely was better than missing, though.

Ian picked up the cup, and quickly drank it. His head was getting fuzzy, so he blinked a few times trying to clear his vision. It worked a bit, so he quickly took the ball and tossed it to the other side where it landed right in front of a cup, instead of inside it. "Damn." He mumbled, he had to make the next ones if he was going to win.

Next time, he was going to start a match sober and not drink two (five) glasses of whiskey before Beer Pong to the Death.

He reached across the table to grab the ball--nearly knocking down three separate cups of alcohol in the process. Wait--since when was the couch on the wall? He shook his head violently and bounced the ball off of the table. It, of course, sailed over all of the cups and about hit Ian in the face. "Oops," he chuckled, "sorry 'bout that, mate."

Usually Ian would've caught the ball that had come flying at his face, but he was a little too tipsy for that right now. Instead, he just growled and tossed the ball back over. It landed perfectly in a cup. He smiled.

"Aww--what the bloody hell...." Chips frowned as he drank yet another cup of beer. Yup. He was definitely extremely drunk right now--and that was supposing that he hadn't been before. If this kept up, he was gonna die. Literally. The reward for winning Beer Pong to the Death was not dying. He completely missed the cups once more. Just kill me already.

"You off you're game today man?" Ian asked, he was pretty sure Chips had never lost to him in the past. He was actually kind of shocked, as he tossed the ping pong back across the table. It landed in yet another cup.

"Maybe....dran' a liddle onna way here," Chips slurred as he brought the cup to his lips. Sure, he felt like he could drink a lot more....but could his mind really handle it at the moment? Shrugged, he swallowed it all down and look over at Ian. "Not too much, thuh," he managed, winking and making an "OK" sign at the younger einherji.

He closed one eye once more, let out a breath, and bounced the ping pong ball on the table once more. This time, luckily, the ball went into a cup. Well, it wasn't over quite yet.

Ian laughed a bit, as he picked up the cup and drank it. Luckily he hadn't had to drink so many in a row yet, so he was kind of just really buzzed. He continued to laugh though, as he tossed the ping pong into yet another cup. It was turning into a very close game, but so far he felt like he was winning and he was ok with that.

Yup, he was probably going to die. Hopefully, it would be Highlander-esque and quick (though it would be a bonus if Ian actually did yell "There can be only oooooooooone!" at the top of his lungs). He drank the beer in one swallow. Oh boooooy.... He shivered a bit. "This not looking good for me, mate," he chuckled. He picked up the ball and, once again, missed the cup. "Aww, cripes!" he whined.

"You really are off your game today, my friend." Ian told him. He picked up the ball again, and tossed it into another cup. "Sorry." He said, sheepishly.

Chips groaned. "Eh--it's fine. It's been 'bout a week since some'ne's killed me anyway. Stayin' alive for so long isn't necessar'ly a good thing, mate," he replied before downing another cup. He then grabbed the ping pong ball again, and, after another dizzy spell, bounced it into a cup. "Wow," he commented, genuinely surprised. "Didn't think tha' would actually go indere." Yup. He was work than a drunk on New Year's.

"Duly noted." Ian said, as he picked up a cup. He downed the beer. "Die at least once a week... Makes sense actually..." He mumbled, as he drunkenly picked up the ping-pong ball and tossed it into a cup on the other side of the table.

Chips didn't groan as he downed the second-to-last of Ian's cups. He'd pretty much excepted that, unless the son of Loki became very drunk very quickly, he was going to die pretty soon. And pretty painfully. Taking his time and, for the first time in decades, praying to his father, he bounced the ball on the table. It missed. Well, there's a reason why he hardly prayed to his dad anymore.

Ian was a light-weight when I came to alcohol. He had never drank while alive cause he had been too young, and now that he could drink he hadn't yet built up the type of tolerance most of his fellow einherijirs had over the years. At this point, the only reason he wasn't more wasted than Chips was being Chip's aim was off today, and his body wasn't taking in the alcohol at the same speed. That didn't mean he wasn't tipsy, while he wasn't his turn he had taken to leaning against the wall in order to keep himself from falling over. His vision was getting all swirly and he had to blink a few times and rub at his eyes.

He picked up the ping-pong ball from where it had landed on the ground, he aimed and then made his toss. The ping-pong ball landed, in a cup but not without almost giving him a heart attack with how many times it spun and rolled around the edge of the cup, before falling in and making a plunking noise.