[video] Nowadays it is only the unreadable that occurs

[depicted]

[Dorian posts from his Fire Sector suite, a transcription of some pages of books he found in the Emperor's library in hand. The transcription is, of course, in the local language, and that is why he speaks]

In the interest of actually being able to read anything useful we might come across, rather than puzzling over it like it's the Voynich manuscript, I thought it might be prudent to attempt to gather together the work of those of us who have been trying to crack the language. I know there are at least a few—if there are resources to be shared, then we may all make a bit more progress. [He has been working on this for some time, and it is audible in every stubborn syllable.] At the very least, it can't possibly hurt.

Comments

[depicted]

[Three self-destructive addicts relax on a sofa...]

[Dorian immediately refills Toby's drink. As for him, the high from bloodloss is starting to fade, and he can feel the effects of siring begin to disappear. Somewhere, his painting must be having a fit. So he pours more wine for himself, intent on being as drunk as everyone else for as long as possible.] We make up for it all by being very charming. Or at least I do.

[cynisme]

I'll drink to that. Hell, I'll drink to anything even if you didn't wrap it up so nicely. Santé.

[and a toast it is, as he downs his glass too with a smack of his lips and a satisfied sigh.]

Charming only works for you because you've got the pretty face to match it. The devil's in your skin.

[monstrous]

[Toby sputters, spitting out some of his drink as he laughs, then using his sleeve to wipe his face] The devil's in your skin! [Toby is highly amused as he comes over to Dorian, rolling up Dorian's sleeve, pulling Dorian's arm to his eye level, inspecting said arm and skin with fingers and eyes.

Toby is a jackass.

When he's finished, Toby drops the arm. The prop served its use. Toby makes a comical face as he smiles broadly at Grantaire] So it is, you were right! Well done! Now the question is what's in your skin, besides an dangerously and enviously high percentage of alcohol.

[depicted]

He damn well better not be. [Toby is very lucky that Dorian didn't hit him.

Well, 'very lucky' in the sense that it's absolutely guaranteed that he would. But oh how he wants to.]

I think our friend has under his skin only alcohol and love.

[cynisme]

[Toby may be a jackass but Grantaire is too, and a smarmy, sarcastic, drunkenly playful one at that, so his commentary rolls right off of him. It even gets a laugh from him. The farce continues.]

What I have under my skin is alcohol, true, infused into my pores, but you won't find any love there. Rather, puss and whatever else causes skin to crawl like gooseflesh. You should count yourself lucky, better to stick with the devil.

[monstrous]

[Toby can't help but smirk and give Dorian a sideways look at Dorian's outburst, before looking back at Grantaire]

You're right, that doesn't sound entirely pleasant. All right, you've sold me, I'm sticking to the boy with the devil in his skin.