Chapter Text
“And that’s how you destroy a city, folks! You drain their entire stash of liquor!” Grantaire stepped up on a stool and raised his bottle before emptying it in one long gulp.
His equally intoxicated audience clapped and yelled. Grantaire called for another round with a wave of his hand, and the bartender shuffled to get them more bottles.
“Easy there, R.”
A hand landed on Grantaire’s shoulder. He looked up to see his medic, Joly, who gave him a wan smile.
“Don’t look so worried, Jollly,” Grantaire teased as Joly took him by the arm and guided him to a booth far from the revelry. “I can handle myself!”
“Of course you can,” Joly said. He narrowed his eyes and peered at his friend as they sat down. He leaned closer. “But we’ve got to report to Lieutenant Lamarque tomorrow.”
Grantaire nearly fell off his chair. “What? But it’s a weekend.” He let out a deep sigh, then grabbed a green bottle from someone who was too wasted to notice.
“Yeah, but we’ve got a new detective, remember?” said a light voice over Grantaire’s head.
Lesgle smiled down at both Grantaire and Joly. But there was something wrong with his face.
“Why do you have a black eye?” Joly gasped.
“What happened to your front tooth?” Grantaire guffawed. “How much did the tooth fairy give you?”
“Not enough to buy a drink, sadly.” Lesgle elbowed Joly, who moved to accommodate his friend. “And I tripped on my way here. So, any luck?”
Grantaire shook his head, a grin still on his face. “Nope, but any luck I’ll have will always be better than yours, my friend!”
Lesgle laughed at that, but Joly frowned.
“That is no laughing matter,” the medic said. “Grantaire, you need to find your witch.”
Grantaire rolled his eyes and took a long drink. “Oh, Joly, you know there’s no witch that can handle all this.” He waved a hand down his body and winked. “Besides, I like… sharing my talents with unattached witches.”
“Except that we’re the Arcane Regulation Commission and not a private magic service,” Joly said. “Remember what Lamarque said last time you slept with the witch you were partnered with?”
“‘So, you have a thing for blonds?’”
Lesgle laughed so hard, he nearly choked.
Joly sighed. “I meant when he said, ‘If you don’t make an effort to find your witch, I will send you back to your father’.”
Lesgle gasped. “Wait, I didn’t know that.” He looked at Grantaire. “He said that? Lamarque said that?” He grabbed Grantaire’s arm. “Well, what’re you waiting for? We have to find you a witch now! A lone familiar -”
“-is a danger to society, a second-class citizen -” Grantaire mumbled. Yes, he heard every insult his father could think of to throw at him, when it was clear that Grantaire hadn’t yet found his witch, and that he was satisfied running around New York as an unbounded raven familiar.
Joly patted Grantaire’s hand. “No, that’s not true, we both know it.”
“But familiars that haven’t found their witch are more prone to, y’know,” Lesgle began, dropping his voice, “going wild.”
“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” Grantaire said evenly. “But not every familiar can find a witch as quickly as you found Joly, dear Eagle.”
“You’ll find yours, R,” Joly said with a nod. “Just keep your eyes and heart open. You’ll feel it. You’ll know it.”
“Like a burst of light for a blind man,” Lesgle said.
Grantaire snorted and twisted in his seat to call for more wine. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Jehan.” He turned back to look at his friends. “Plus, what if I don’t want to be bonded to my witch?”
Lesgle and Joly exchanged a look before the former chuckled and looked at Grantaire. “Oh, trust me, you won't be able to keep yourself away from him - or her.”
More bottles arrived, and Grantaire resolved to drink them all before Joly remembered to remind him that they needed to wake up early the next day.