"She assumes I wouldn't dare do anything too terrible on my own." Maybe that would've been true if he didn't have four older brothers who were terrible enablers and seemed determined to drag their little brother to Hell with them.
"Sometimes I wonder if she knows you at all," Bjorn smirks as he glances over at Ivar and makes a turn on the exit that would take them to the airport that has the private plane.
"She sees only what she wants to." Ivar would forever be her helpless youngest son in Aslaug's eyes no matter what he did or how old he got. It was comforting in some ways, but in a lot more, it had become stifling. Aslaug only saw what he couldn't do, not what he could accomplish under his own merit.
They can agree on that there. Aslaug and Lagertha were very different, but driving their respective sons crazy was one talent they seemed to have in common. Ivar lapses into a comfortable silence until they reach the airport. They've got several small jets in the family name, so it's just a matter of picking which one they want.
Once they get on board, Ivar's is seated comfortably, and starts rooting around for both snacks and drinks. Might as well start on getting good and plastered before they even get there.
Before the plane has even lifted off, Bjorn has settled with a large alcoholic beverage and spread out over one of the luxurious couch style seats that the private jet has to offer. The flight attendants are beautiful women, of course, because this is Bjorn we’re talking about and he’s nothing if not his fathers son.
“Are you going to get some tail while we’re there too or are you just along for the field trip?”
With Hvitserk or Ubbe he wouldn’t even need to ask.
Ivar glares at his brother with his icy blue eyes, a nerve definitely hit. "That's my own business," he snaps out.
The subject of finding a woman or man to fill his bed always is a sore one for Ivar. He's always felt his brothers have an easy time of it, while he's looked at like an object of pity by people. This isn't necessarily true, but Ivar wouldn't be Ivar without a huge chip on his shoulder.
Bjorn looks completely unbothered by Ivar's glare. He's used to hitting Ivar's buttons and perhaps sometimes he did it on purpose (but he did that to everyone, ivar's not special).
"Come on, brother, what fun is it if we don't talk about it?"
"Oh sure, it's fun for you. All you have to do is be in a room with a woman for three minutes who doesn't immediately run out and then stare at them intently for them to be willing to go to bed with you." Ivar says, his tone completely sour.
"Women would be more apt to jump in bed with you if you would stop glaring for more than a second at a time," Bjorn retorts, not bothered by Ivar's tone.
"Oh, shut up. You think it's just as easy for everyone to find women as it is for you!" Ivar picks up a soda can and lobs it at Bjorn's head. This is going to turn into a long flight if they end up getting into an argument.
"I do not feel sorry for myself," Ivar said hotly, but he couldn't deny it too much. Part of Ivar's problem was just that, wallowing in self-pity instead of seeing those around him who were interested in him. Another was that he was frankly kind of shy when it came to anyone he was attracted to. There was always the idea sticking in his head that no one could ever love him for himself, just feel a sense of pity towards him.
"Are you sure about that?" Bjorn retorts and rolls his eyes as he takes another drink from the alcoholic beverage he's retrieved and all. He's not worried about Ivar actually managing to hurt him. And if he did? Well, all Ragnarsson planes came with an on board doctor -- because...have you met this family?
"Things would be easier if you'd just be honest too."
"Why be honest?" He shrugs. "People only use your words against you when you tell the truth." That's how he saw it anyway, which is why Ivar rarely told the truth. Too often, he'd end up lying or speaking in double-talk so that no one knew precisely what to make of what he was saying.
"And that's such a surprise? I was born cynical." Really, he was, and he's only gotten worse as the years have gone on. At least now it seems he's forgotten about wanting to fight with Bjorn for the moment.
"You chose to be cynical," Bjorn argues. He doesn't believe that anyone can be born so cynical. Ivar had constantly chosen to make his own life harder in his opinion.
"And you're not? You've been cynical ever since Wife #1 left." At this point, Ivar just referred to Bjorn's wives by numbers instead of actual names because, well, he was one away from being able to count them all on one hand. Monogamy was not one of his strong points.
"If you're not self-aware enough to know already, I'm not going to tell you." He cracks open a beer and pointedly begins drinking it rather then answering Bjorn further. Bjorn was smarter then Ivar gave him credit for, but he did still have the tendency to be more brawn then brain.
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Once they get on board, Ivar's is seated comfortably, and starts rooting around for both snacks and drinks. Might as well start on getting good and plastered before they even get there.
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“Are you going to get some tail while we’re there too or are you just along for the field trip?”
With Hvitserk or Ubbe he wouldn’t even need to ask.
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The subject of finding a woman or man to fill his bed always is a sore one for Ivar. He's always felt his brothers have an easy time of it, while he's looked at like an object of pity by people. This isn't necessarily true, but Ivar wouldn't be Ivar without a huge chip on his shoulder.
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"Come on, brother, what fun is it if we don't talk about it?"
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"Things would be easier if you'd just be honest too."
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"What's that supposed to mean exactly?"
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