jelly-glazed

J O R S E V A L There's no reason I should shed one tear Can't you see we got a good thing here Pastries. Pastries were the key, Jory had decided, to fixing everything. Indifferent gods? Dragon attacks? An ever growing sense of displacement, loneliness, and existential dread? Nothing a good bit of sweet dough covered in sugar couldn't cure. What he didn't take into consideration was the fact that by the time he'd come to this conclusion sunset had well past and the time was inching toward the wee hours of the morning. Also he was horrifically drunk. The Jory that found himself staring balefully at the door of the bakery was on the tail end of a bender that threatened its second day. Normally untidy, he was now an unholy mess, down to his trousers and a thin shirt. One sleeve was riddled with holes and covered in blood long dried, his souvenir of a bite from the world's cutest asshole dragon; the bite itself, still wholly untreated. There was also a shiner blooming on his scraped cheekbone. He didn't remember getting punched, but odds were... Thus it was not his consideration for any possibly sleeping persons that gave him pause but the fact that he didn't quite remember how doors worked. CRACK! Clearly, the way to open a door was not by pitching head-first into it. Well... Lessons learned. And Jory would probably have a long time to contemplate that lesson as he lay sprawled at the base of the door. Getting up didn't seem appealing so he prayed. Loudly. "OH, JELLY GODS. Forsake not this devotee to thine GOODNESS. Blesseth your servant with nourishment for he is famished serving you in your...service."