In the Professor's office

[Tesla]

The Professor prowls in from outside and walks into his office with a bottle in his hand, adjusting the sign to "Out"
In his temporary digs, he slumps down behind a beat up second hand desk. He places the bottle on the desk, it's label reads "Bruichladdich X4".
Opening, the bottle, The Professor pours himself a shot and downs it. Pouring a second shot, he just sits their looking at the glass in his hand.

[Sally]

Sally Lautner picks up that full shot glass and draws a long sniff,

"Brewglahdee?"

He sets the small glass back down before the Professor as he plops down in a chair.

"Ain't bourbon, but it'll do in a pinch," Lautner says, snorting. His eyes hang on the whiskey for a long, long moment, and he shakes his head. Reaching into a pouch on his belt, he sets down a clearish resin shot glass, then pours a shot of orange juice and raises it.

"May ya reach the gates 'a heaven, 'for the Devil knows yer dead. Can't remember if that's Scottish 'r Eye-rish, but..." Sally shrugs.

"John, how fucked is we?"

Sally's hand shakes some, the dried blood under his fingernails still there, a half dozen washes later.

[sndwurks]

The change in the sign does not go unnoticed by Billy, and he hangs back for a moment to observe. The bottle comes out with a slight blink of recognition from the other shaman, and then Sally approaches. Billy takes a deliberate breath and watches.

The St. Francis weather forecast? Cloudy, with a high chance of worry.

[Tesla]

The Professor actually starts to giggle at Sally’s use of his christian name. With a practiced motion, he picks up and downs the shot he was eyeing, drowning the broken sounds of frivolity in its 180-proof fire.

“Usquebraugh-baul, they call this. It translates as Perilous Whiskey……. Translates…..”
You can tell Challenger is stopping himself from losing it again as he rolls that word around his mouth. He looks down at Sally’s glass of orange juice with a reproachful look.

“For your sake, Sally, you may want to leave. This drink’s name may turn out to be prophetic. I’m about to get my drunk on and one or two more of these,” He pours himself another healthy shot “and I may actually offer you some.”

“I’ve got some things I need to deal with and right now I don’t feel up to that. So for at least this evening, I’m planning on Not dealing with it.” At which point, he slowly drains the shotglass a third time.

[Sally]

"Perilous whiskey?" Sally snorts, "Ain't it all per-i-lous? Ain't that the whole golldarn point?"

Shrugging, Lautner says, "I appre-ciate yer concern, an' I'll take up your warnin'," he says, eyes unable to leave the bottle, "Cuz I can't rightly agree that I'd turn ya down." Sally, ever the gesticulater, motions with a shaking hand, "Since my Big Friend d-decided to make hisself ap-parent again this weekend."

Sally shakes his head, almost violently, "Well, Prof, you do you, brother. I ain't one wit' no standin' to judge. "Jus'... do it here, where they's folks to look out fer ya," he smiles some. "I speak from ex-per-ience when I say that two a Flo's eggs fried over-easy, four strips a bacon, and an uncooked bagel to soak it all up is the first step to shakin' off a hangover in this place."

Sally's smile fades, "An' Liberty... she knows a trick or two." He stares into the caramel depths of the whiskey bottle and then lowers his eyes. He does not look at the bottle again, but at Challenger.

"When you up to dealin' wit' whatever 's in yer shadows, maybe me 'n you's'll have a chat. I figger ya deserve you a chance on this sidea the desk, right?"

He stands and forcibly avoids looking at the bottle, "Winter's comin', an' we just about outta time. Whatever's got a hook through yer guts, don't you let it swallow you up, Professor, 'cuz if we gon' make it through what we made it through last year... we gon' need er'ry last one of us."

As Sally turns away he says, "Have one fer me," and raps on the desktop, then heads out.

When he sees Billy, he gives the man a nod, knowing he's far better suited for such a situation.

[sndwurks]

Watching Sally walk away from the bottle the professor put on the desk causes Billy to give a slight, terse grimace. There is no disguising the obvious worry in his expression as he regards the other two men, even if it has a different cadence than before Billy's own discovery of his true nature. It is still undeniably present.

He gives Sally a nod in passing, and then moves towards the Professor's desk. He pulls out the chair usually reserved for those going through therapy, and nods towards the bottle.

"Among my people, we have a saying," offers the shaman with a furrowed brow. "Friends don't let friends drink alone."

He takes a deep breath, and looks over at the Professor.

"So. Want to talk about it?"

[Tesla]

"Thanks, Sally. You are right. I've been busy helping everyone else, but who watches the therapist, eh? But not tonight. You get and have a good night. Oh, and Gunny, if you see your big friend again, let me know. I'm still kind of pissed at yesterday when we fetched Dr. Kennigan from her date. Retreating like that still sticks in my craw. He may be bigger, he may be meaner, but I'll be damned if I let him think I'm a'feard of him. I don't know how many memories are my own, but I'm pretty sure the one I have of standing before the All-Father is one of mine. Compared to him, Penance just doesn't seem that daunting."

The Professor picks up the bottle and swirls the amber liquid. Looking up, he spots Billie coming in. St. Francis can see Challenger's eyes are already starting to get a little glassy. Those shots are starting to work.

After Billie sits down, The Professor pushes an empty shot glass across the desk and carefully fills it and then his own. Putting the potent elixir down, he picks his own glass up in salute

"To Knowledge.....It's a bitch."

Down go the shots

"You and I have something almost in common..............................
We both found out recently we may not be what we thought we were........
Hmmm, let me rephrase that. You at least are still you, you're just not "what" you thought you were. But at least you are still you. Everything that went before that make you who you are, still is...."

John starts to mess with the crow skull fetish he's never without, grasping it then letting it go, undecisive.

"I, on the other hand, am still me. I just have no clue who "me" is anymore."

[sndwurks]

"To knowledge," agrees the shaman, matching the toast.

Billy picks up the shotglass, lets the drink roll in it a moment under his nose, then tilts it back with a single gesture. He breathes in sharply at the taste, eyes shutting tight in response, and he lets his breath out slowly through his mouth, like an experienced woodsman blowing on the embers of a fire.

"But what is me?" asks Billy with a smile that does not reach his eyes. "Am I my memories? What if they are lies? And they are. Many of them, at least... lies that twist upon themselves, filling in the gaps while I'm not watching. Everything that went on before, I can't know them. Not truly. Does that make me a lie?"

He pauses.

"Does that make you a lie? Or does it just make us both liars?"

He sets the glass down for a second shot, eyes opening back up without a hint of fuzziness to his wits.

[Tesla]

John pours Billie another shot, but absently puts the bottle down

“I thought I was one of the few normal people here. Yeah, I’d been speaking to spirits all of my life, but I had a pet theory that helped explain that. Rational, Collective Unconscious, World as Myth. Carl Jung and Robert Heinlein would have loved it. But since I’ve arrived in Whisper Hill, I’ve treated Demons and Zombies, Fairies and Vampires in my little backroom here. I’ve seen people get kidnapped, tortured and killed, and the scary part is it really doesn’t bother me that much. Normally, I’d expect a person in my position to start exhibiting signs of PTSD. Irrational moods, verbal tics, violent, aggressive behavior…….”

His voice peters out after a bit and he starts staring at the bottle of Bruichladdich X4. You can almost see a thought balloon over his head, thinking ”Where has my whiskey gone?” Then his facial expression changes to “Oh, I remember, I drank it.” And he continues his ramblings.

“What makes a person a person? Some people would point to a person and say “that”, but the corpus, our bodies is just a form of transportation and life support system. It can be copied, imitated and replaced. Twins can be identical in body, but they are separate individuals”

“The soul? I don’t know nothing about that. If you want to discuss that, I’ll give you a chit to talk with the Reverend. Though it seems they do exist in some form, since we’ve enticed a few out of the Well for the Dread Lady. Most religions seem to agree that death wipes the slate clean though, new start and all”

The Professor gestures wildly with the glass that you are now glad is still empty.

“Our minds! As far as I now, is what makes us “Us”. What differentsit......divverents….............
Dif-er-en-ti-ates us from each other. Our lives, our experiences, our Memories. This is what I deal with, this is what I try and fix for people. Get their heads on straight, face what was, by finding a direction on what to be.”

Challenger puts his glass down on the table and very carefully tilts the bottle and gets some in the glass.

"But I can't tell what's mine. I have a vast store of memories in this skull. But what part, if any is actually Me. All the languages that I know? *Pfffft* Borrowed through time from a previous owner. Psychology.....very likely from it's most previous owner. Heck, how do you think I could pick up a zweihänder and start swinging it competently over one summer."

He picks up the glass and holds it out to Billie

"So tonight, I've decided to not deal with it. My PhD tonight stands for Pours heavy Drinks. Let the memories get drowned and I'll sort through them after the hangover."

[Taranis]

"It's all yours."

*Alex chimed in, rising from his usual spot lounging in front of the fireplace*

"Simply because you didn't think a thought first doesn't mean it's not yours to use as you please. Take it from the guy with two, err... three people in his head."

*He starts rummaging through his many coat pockets for something.*

"They say knowledge is power. By that logic you're basically the local ubermensch. Don't go to war with yourself over it. We've got far too many wars going on as it is, AHAH!"

*Alex pulls an unopened bottle of cheap booze out of one of his coat's inner pocket and places it on the desk next to the expensive bottle of obviously superior liquor.*

"In the mean time, knock yourself out. I don't drink the stuff myself, as bad things tend to happen when I drink. You probably deserve it more than anyone else in this town anyways."