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It was two days since the Chosen recruits had all returned to the Prytaneum from the Swiss Alps, one day since Rob had been released from the makeshift infirmary. Twenty stitches to close the gash in his side from the monstrous giant bird they'd all fought, no broken bones or concussion from the fall he'd taken when she'd released him from her claw, kept overnight for observation just in case.

He pretty much hadn't stopped drinking since he got turned loose from the infirmary.

He sat now near the firepit outside the Hearth, the sounds of his guitar gently ringing through the evening air. There were a few others around, but they pretty much left him alone. They were all coping in their own ways with what they had all experience; Rob's preferred method was keeping to himself with lots of booze. The booze of choice this evening was wine from the massive wine cooler in the common area of the Dionysus dorm; he hadn't passed through the Hearth again to go outside and get some beer that was to his liking yet. Eventually, yeah, and he'd go back to San Francisco and get some more of his stuff as well. Not yet, though. The only people he wanted around right now were the others who'd experienced the same thing he had.

Rob stilled the strings of his guitar mid-song and reached for the currently open bottle of wine, taking a deep swig from it. If he were in a better state of mind, he'd have a glass so he could enjoy it properly. As it was, the bright sparkle of the muscato he was drinking made him happy, and more than a bit tipsy -- which was something, considering he had the alcohol metabolizing powers of a fratboy. He was feeling better, for the moment at least.

Looking up, Rob saw a figure emerge from the shadows -- a shapely girl figure, he noticed -- and announce herself. "Misha," he repeated with a smile. "I'm Rob." He studied her stupidly, drunkenly for a moment, then blinked. "Oh right. No, no I don't mind at all," he said, patting the ground next to him. "I can't say I'm very good company right now, but you are more than welcome to join me."

He started playing his guitar again, then stopped and reached for the wine bottle. "Care for a sip, love? It's straight from Dionysus's stores. Good stuff." It was evident from the slight slurring of his words that Rob had had rather a lot of the wine his god so graciously provided for them.

Cutie? Awww, Misha thought he was cute. His smile turned into a wide, lopsided grin as he handed over the bottle of muscato. He might have even blushed a little; it was hard to tell in the light of the fire. "Yeah, I can spare it. I got the key to the wine vault. I can get as much as I want." And right now he wanted rather a lot. "Me tank's nowhere near full, either," he laughed. "I'm good for another bottle, at least."

Resting his hand on the body of the guitar, he studied Misha for a few moments. He remembered her from the hotel, fighting birds in that room on the second floor. She hardly seemed the type to fight monsters, but she had held her own. They all had.

"So," he said finally, voice low and gentle, "how you holdin' up, love?"

Even as drunk as he was, Rob was mentally with it enough to get the hint. Misha wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Neither was he, truth be told, hence the drinking. "Fair enough, Misha," he nodded, leaving it at that. He wasn't about to push the issue. "No need to apologize." Whether he was referring to her cute little hiccup or her evading his question was up for debate, even in his own mind.

Taking the bottle back, he shook it to make sure there was still wine in it. She'd put quite a hurt on it, but then so had he. Still, there was some left. He downed the last of it, then set the empty bottle down with a grin. Reaching behind him, he produced another wine bottle and a corkscrew. "I came prepared," he chuckled as he dug the corkscrew into the stopper and opened the bottle with a slight pop. He took a deep drink from the fresh bottle of moscato and held it out to Misha. "More of the same, if you're interested."

"What's to tell?" Rob smirked in return as he accepted the bottle. Taking a drink, he set it down on the ground between them. Idly he started strumming the guitar as he spoke, nothing in particular, just some random chords that sounded good together. "Londoner born n' bred, had me a punk band called Torgo back there. Played a crazy mix of punk an' old folk tunes. We played out some, then my family moved to San Francisco for me dad's work." He gazed down at the guitar as he played, a slight melancholy expression crossing his face. The homesickness he felt almost constantly welled to the surface; he stopped playing and reached for the bottle of wine, hoping to dampen the feeling. He didn't need that on top of processing what happened in the Alps.

He drank deeply, then set the bottle down again and flashed Misha a bright smile before focusing on his guitar again. "I busk now, in the BART stations underground. Make pretty good money. At least I don't have to worry about being homeless, I own a house with my parents." Strumming a few more chords, he looked up at her. "What about you? I want to hear all about Misha."

Rob didn't even notice her hand on his knee until she squeezed; the alcohol numbed him enough that the normally ticklish as hell reaction he had to someone squeezing his knee didn't happen. Even so, he reflexively straightened his leg before flexing it back beneath him and laughing. The very last thing he wanted to reveal to Misha was how ticklish he was.

"I already know about American girls and British accents," he grinned with a wink. "Why d'you think I've made no effort to change the way I talk?" He reached for the bottle and took a swig, listening and studying her as she spoke about herself. She was a lovely girl, the firelight accenting her features and the shine in her dark hair. And her curves. This was a girl who could have any man she wanted if she put her mind to it, with very little effort too. In other words, way out of his league...

"You're an agony aunt?" Sputtering with laughter, he took another swig of wine. "Sorry, sorry. I always pictured- I never pictured- you're a bit young, aren't you? I mean, I'm sure you give excellent advice, being Chosen of Aphrodite and all…" he backpedaled, hands flapping.

"Sorry. I- sometimes me mouth opens before I've had a chance to think." Rob hoped his apology was enough to keep him out of trouble with Misha. He wasn't so drunk that he didn't realize what he'd said. He was drunk enough, however, that the implications of her reply simply didn't register. Luckily she seemed to forgive him, and just like that the incident was gone from his mind.

"Why Dionysus? Haven't a clue, love. Maybe I'm too drunk for Apollo," he laughed. "I dunno, honestly. Maybe I'm not as serious about music as I thought I was. I mean, I was surrounded by music growing up -- me mum's a music professor and piano tutor. So maybe I just assumed I'd be a musician." He paused, pensive again, strumming the guitar as if he were playing his own soundtrack. "Max suggested I go into brewing since I love beer so much, and I think I'm going to do it. It's like, I enjoy music, but I love beer, you know? Maybe that's why Dionysus chose me. He could see it, on account of he's a god an' all."

"Yeah, as I recall, those Greek gods are a crafty bunch…" Rob let his words trail off as he tried to process whether or not Misha was flirting with him. It was hard for him to tell sometimes, even sober -- not that he ever let it slow him down with his own flirting. He knew he was in no shape at the moment to flirt properly. Still, he managed to quirk up one side of his lips into a lopsided, sly smile and shot her a glance, warm brown eyes meeting her grey gaze. If nothing else, it was an acknowledgement of her apparent interest and attention. And she was a very pretty young woman.

Then she mentioned her mother's profession, and he sat up, a grin brightening his face. "You don't say! Ain't that something. Funny old world indeed," he laughed. "Me mum used to take piano students at our house in Chelsea on weekends and during breaks at university. That's how I met Sidney, actually -- she started out as a pupil of Mum's when I was a kid, then her mum and my mum got to be friends, and Sid became my friend, and the rest…" He chuckled softly through his nose and shook his head. "The rest, I suppose, is history. Anyway, Mum never could teach me piano. I always got confused by all the keys. I'm much more comfortable with things like guitar." He interrupted his chord strumming with a quick riff. "Do you play?"