Chess, Not Checkers

When Art took the bottle this time, he took two smaller sips, seemingly having found a method that didn’t leave him coughing. At his question, there was some delay. A disconnect in Art’s mind. Sirius was also starting to feel it, he felt… relaxed. In a way that did not come to him easily. He rolled forward, propping himself up on his forpaws as he looked across at the tipsy boy. “You’ve just hit the stage called tipsy, your motor senses will be slowed, and your attention span short. You might become more talkative, but going around in circles rather than saying anything.”

Sirius grinned as he took the bottle again, raising it up in the air as though to say ‘cheers’ before taking another sip. “I think I hit the talkative part, son. We should… we should spar, we’ll topple over, and it’ll be hilarious.”


"Sirius Fatalis"