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In response, Rob's fingers slid easily into the opening riffs of Stairway to Heaven. "I think every person who picks up a guitar is obligated to learn this song," he chuckled. "It's like a classic, innit? A rite of passage or something. Like when you can play it, you're a real guitar player or something." He fell silent for a moment as he looked down at the guitar as he played. A real guitar player -- and here he was, contemplating giving it all up for love of beer. Snorting a soft laugh, he moved into the chord section of the song. It wasn't like he'd been able to do anything with his musical ability since moving to America, was it? Busking in the subway wasn't exactly a career choice. Still, it would be a shame to give it up entirely. Could there be a compromise?

His reverie was broken by Misha's question, and he stilled the strings. "Favorite song? Hmm." A comfort song? He wasn't sure he had one… "Um, usually I just fart about, you know? Playing whatever s**t comes to mind… Oh, there's a song I wrote that my farting about usually transitions into. It's nothing special, really." He started playing again, working his way through chords and elaborate fingerwork, the tone of what he was playing playful and upbeat. The song danced around like Hestia's flames themselves, swirling through the night, lyrical yet light, almost lilting.

Finally the song ended, and Rob let the ending chords ring in the night air as they faded to silence. "It ain't got words, it's just… music. I dunno, I like it," he shrugged with a pleased smile that he couldn't repress. He was kind of proud of that song.

Chuckling at Misha's remark about Dionysus double-dipping, Rob set his guitar down. "Yeah, I reckon he kind of is." He looked over at her with a smile. "I'm beginning to trust that they knew what they were doing too. You know how you get that feeling in your gut when you know something is right? Yeah, it's bonkers to an extreme, but I get that gut feeling all the bloody time around here. Like the brewing thing… It just feels right, you know? Like I could really do something extraordinary with it. Come up with something no-one's done before, or do it better than anyone has ever done it." He gazed past her as he spoke, the distant, pensive expression returning to his face. "I could be the best at it, with Dionysus's help."

Then he shook it off and laughed, once more focusing (blearly, drunkenly) on Misha. "What about you? What does Aphrodite want you to do? Carry on with the agony aunt gig? Or something else? Pretty girl like you could do anything she wanted, I imagine." She was definitely a shining example of someone Chosen by Aphrodite, but she seemed like she had the potential to be a good friend, too. She was right -- there were a lot of great people here.

"I think so," Rob nodded, smiling as Misha settled against his shoulder. He instinctively slipped an arm around her and gazed into Hestia's fire. "I mean, booze is booze, right? An' I been doing my reading -- Dionysus is the god of parties and celebrations too. So it makes sense to me that he'd be okay with me makin' beer. Besides, it was beer he gave to me when he gave me his blessing." No, he hadn't been drunkenly hallucinating when Dionysus had handed him the most amazing beer he'd ever had. Rob still remembered the rich, fruit-tinged taste of it, like nothing he'd ever had before. He was determined to try to reproduce it someday.

Picking up the wine bottle with his free hand, he shook it experimentally. "Bugger all. 'S empty." Just as well, he decided, he was already truly inebriated, and he was sure Misha was feeling a bit tipsy herself. He wanted to get more, but he didn't want to disturb her; he rather liked her leaning against him. Just then he yawned. "s**t," he said, putting the bottle down and rubbing his face. "Think I'm gonna pass out." Looking down at her dark-haired head, he thought for a moment. "How are you doing, love?"

Rob smiled dozily at Misha's kiss on his cheek. He planted a kiss on the top of her head and cuddled her close, rocking gently from side to side. "Yeah, I think bedtime sounds good. It's been a long, alcohol-filled day for me. Pro'ly for you too." Easing his arm from around her with a final squeeze, he slowly worked his way to his feet. "Whoa," he said, pinwheeling his arms to steady himself. "Maybe not such a good idea, this whole standin' thing."

He finally got himself stabilized and grinned down at Misha. "Y'know, I think I might could use a little help getting back to me room… 'S just over there," he waived vaguely in the general direction of the Dionysus dorm, "but 's dark n' I'm none too steady. Don't wanna fall n' break me guitar."

Carefully bending over, Rob picked up the guitar and handed it off to Misha. "That's an excellent idea, thank you, Misha," he slurred with a smile. "It ain't my baby, but I still don't wanna hurt it." He scrubbed his face again, fighting to suppress another yawn. Yeah, retreating to his dorm and bed sounded like the best plan. He could drink more later, to further wash the memories of the Alps and those birds out of his mind. In fact, he could carry on drinking once he was back at his room until he passed out for real; the Dionysus dorms were certainly not lacking in alcohol.

Though it was more likely he was just going to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He felt her arm slip around his waist and instinctively leaned into her as they slowly began to make their way across the grass toward the dorm, the soft late summer breeze swirling gently around them.