[right][h2]Matt Harken - Mordhaben's Proper [/h2][/right]
[right][@Etranger][/right]

"Oh, uh, sober, that's... uh.... well when you're affected by liquor, or..." Matt scratched his head for a moment. He'd seen his dad sober up from a long night at the tavern often enough to be familiar with the mechanics of alcohol, but he wasn't sure how to explain it. He was reaching for some sort of reference point, but he could tell from this girl's expression she had no idea what he was talking about. He wasn't talking now, and she was just staring at him expectantly. Why had he thought this was a good idea? Oh God, she probably thought he was a moron. He could feel a cold trail of sweat slowly make it's way down his face.

Wait.... was he a friend? Was she trying to be friends with him? Was this a rhetorical question, one of those questions he wasn't supposed to answer normally? Maybe she was just trying to spread the idea that she was a 'friendly person', create an impression, but didn't expect anyone to actually answer. Or maybe she was actually reaching out to him for some reason he couldn't comprehend, and if he declined she'd be deeply offended. He'd probably be exiled from the school for such a grave offense. When he talked to her had he accepted some sort of responsibility, was that why she was asking this question? Or maybe she was still just being ridiculous and he just needed to explain to her that this wasn't how you acted. Could he really tell her how to act? Would that be presumptuous? He'd headed into this situation high off of the new sights and sounds and places, thinking he could actually talk to PEOPLE. Strangers, no less! And her face wasn't helping. She was just sitting there, expectantly. What did that face mean? Was it anger? Disappointment? Boredom? Was she about to vomit on his shoes and collapse? Wait, what if she did collapse, and he had to do something. She probably would collapse! Any moment now! And he had no idea what to do about collapsing girls! And- And- And....

"Alcohol is a CHEMICAL!"

Having exhausted all his other options, Matt simply blurted out something vaguely related to the situation. Was it the right thing to say? Probably not. But it was something! And now that he was talking, he just kept talking. As long as his mouth was working, his brain didn't have to. 

"In order to create any form of liquor you must first cause the chemical alcohol to come into existence by fermenting certain fruits, such as....."

This was going to take a while. He was explaining everything. She hadn't walked away or vomited yet, so he just kept going. 

"...local varieties of wine, a variety of different ingredients can be...." 

Why hadn't she shut him up yet? He was just rambling, he had no idea where this conversation was going. Hell, he was barely breathing. Could she really be interested in what he was saying? Probably not. Was she not interrupting him because it would be rude? She'd probably walk away the moment he stopped talking, with that disgusted look in her eye. But as long as he kept talking....

"....giant crab things, but they don't like fire I heard and maybe also garlic but that was in another book that..."

Wait when had they gotten to crabs? This wasn't even the original subject matter. Why was nobody stopping him? No normal person could have stayed interest throughout this train crash of a monologue. Had she died on her feet? Nope, definitely still breathing. Still looking at him. Did he have something on his face?

"....with a laserbeam to the spleen but only on sundays also have you noticed that the weather..."

The bottom of the barrel. Talking about the weather. Surely, something had gone wrong here. Matt was drenched in his own sweat, silently begging for someone to stop him. He had already committed social suicide. Someone stop him. Please.