Sinric the Wanderer

"I lost track of time." Now he's been reminded about food, his stomach rumbles.

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Sinric had the table covered in bowls of dips, cheeses and cold cuts of meat and bread. "Here, you must try this. It's hummus." He offers a piece of flat bread with dip to Athelstan before making quick work of slicing apples and pears to go with their cheese.

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"It's very tasty," Ragnar says, putting the bottles and the opener on the table as well, a bit awkwardly.

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He bites into the bread and makes an approving face.

"What's it made of?"

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"Chickpeas and garlic mostly."

He offers Ragnar a slice of pear as he too examines the bottle opener. "Now, how do we make this work?"

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Ragnar eats that slice of pear and looks sheepish.

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"Let me see." He takes up the bottle opener. "Well, it must surely be to do with this strangely shaped slot."

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Sinric watches with interest as Athelstan picks up the tool. "Maybe it goes under the cap somehow? To force it off."

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"It doesn't seem to screw, the way other lids from the future do," Ragnar says, peering hopefully.

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"I think Sinric's on to something." He studies the slot for a moment, then tries to get it where it needs to be.

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Sinric continues slicing his pear, offering to feed Athelstan a slice as he fiddles with the bottle, the juice of it dripping over his fingers.

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"I think I saw people from the future sort of lift their elbows when opening a bottle," Ragnar says, "but it could have been the screwing variety."

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"It might have been. But if this is a lever..."

He opens his mouth to let Sinric feed him the pear.

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Sinric's touch lingers a moment as he feeds Athelstan the slice of fruit, fingertips brushing Athelstan's lips. He can feel his cheeks flush softly as warm thoughts heat his face.

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"If this is a lever, it needs a point of leverage," Ragnar says, helpfully. "To lever the lid off the bottle."

He smiles at Sinric -- it's good to see him getting better and bolder this way, once more.

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Athelstan, his mouth full of pear, just nods - with a special smile for Sinric as he sees the beginnings of desire coming back to him.

And then he finds the right angle, and the bottle cap flies off across the room.

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Sinric claps happily and chases the little metal cap across the room. "Wonderful. Now show me so I may help next time."

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"And me!" Ragnar says, as this seems a prime survival skill for the modern world.

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Athelstan finishes his food and laughs affectionately at them both, reaching for the second bottle.

"All right, gather round."

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Sinric watches with interest, his shoulder pressing gently against Athelstan's as he leans in to learn. His hand brushes the small of Athelstan's back as he does. He can feel his breath shorten, the need building him with the speed of a spring storm.

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Ragnar watches with a wide, anticipatory grin -- both at the ale being freed from the confines of the bottles, and at Sinric getting ready to jump Athelstan's bones.

Just watch and maybe touch, his foot!

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Athelstan turns his head to look into Sinric's eyes, having got the idea well enough he can open the second bottle with touch alone.

He's not sure if Sinric is healed enough in body to go very far, and he's going to let Sinric initiate everything that might happen.

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