"Hmm.... they... they were nice...." Irui murmured cheerily as he peeled away from the party with a stumble to his step. He held a fizzing glass of who-knew-what, and damn was it delicious; acidic and frothing, but ice cold with the slightest kick. He pressed the rim of the glass to his mask, and immediately felt it dribble down his front.
"Oh right... hah...." He pulled the mask up a touch.
"You know what I should make...." He said to no one in particular as he wandered down the street, passing party goers and shinobi. "We need to make a mask that you can.... Can drink through that would be nice." He shuffled to a stop, with his mask slightly ajar and shoved it back into place. "Sssshh I'm sneaking."
A passing Waiter stopped and offered him a smile. "Sir, I think you should probably stop while you're ahead. Let me call a tuk-tuk we can get you to your room."
Irui scowled and advanced forward-- Until he stepped on his robes, and face planted into the cobble stones. Glass shattered.
"Fffff......" He hissed from the ground.
"Sir, you really should call it a night."
Dramatically, he held up his finger in protest. "No, no, itss.... itskay, see, I got beat up by this old lady... And mmmm Anyways...." He made a talking motion with his hand. "Yadayada this will wear off soon. I'm fine."
His hand dropped to his side and he lay there on the cold stone for a moment, watching the feet pace him by. "Mister nice waiter, are you still there? Hello?"
"Uh-- I-- Yes, yes sir, I am."
"Has anyone told you you're a nice waiter man?" irui asked, and let out a sigh. "Being a shinobi is hard. I wish I could be a waiter on a magical floating rock."
"You mean the Heavenly Emporium?"
"Yeah. I was a tourist here once," Irui continued, gathering his unsteady feet beneath him. He fell back onto his rear and slumped forward. Dejectedly, he looked at the broken pieces of mask on the ground. "Oh man... " he moaned, fingering the gash in the mask's face, "I liked that mask...." He sighed heavily again, and gripped the nearby gutter to pull himself up right and leaned up against the wall.
The mask hung loosely now around his face, and he fumbled to tighten the strings. Occasionally he could see the party through the fracture as the light passed through.
"Yeah...." Irui mumbled and snatched another drink from the waiter's tray. "You don't want to be a Shinobi." He took a sip of the rum-and-whatever cocktail and pushed off from the wall. "Its hard. Sometimes you get beaten up by old ladies like her," He mumbled and jammed a thumb over his shoulder at empty space and shuffled down the street. Already he could feel his body orienting itself, his steps regaining coherence and the spinning had stopped.
"See!" He called back to the waiter. "I'll be fine!"