Happy Hour

[flickedmethevs]

This place.

Every time it shows up, Ray feels a bit nervous. Last time it were dreams. Before that, he got turned into a bird. It's no wonder, then, that he looks suspicious when he approaches the bar

Comments

[forgottenmotley]

"Bitter Scotch? What about other bitter foods? Like... horseradishes?"

[flickedmethevs]

"Horseradishes?"

Weirdy.

"Food's off, mate. Y' want a pint or what?"

[forgottenmotley]

Yes. Yes that is what the Fool is. A total weirdy.

"But you could make horseradish into a drink couldn't you? Or marmalade," he says brightly. "Could I get a different size than a pint?"

[flickedmethevs]

"Why would you want t' drink marmalade?"

Is he high?

"What other size d' you want?"

[guppy_sandhu]

"Buh, ih, tuh..." Fry says, running his finger along the board with a slight smudge of chalk.

"Hi Ray." Guppy sits on a barstool. "Tea please."

"tuh, eh, ruh... biter!"

[flickedmethevs]

It's the artist and his dad. Ray squints through his cigarette smoke at the lad as he works that one out.

"Bitter, lad. Don' think your dad'll let me give you one."

Tea? Can't Guppy read? Can't anyone read? He sighs.

"All right?"

[guppy_sandhu]

"Tuh, wuh, ah..." Fry starts reading one of the other words.

"Fry, would you like some juice?" Guppy asks, reaching over and rubbing the c part of the a off.

"Yes please." Fry coughs at the smoke and looks at Ray. "You smell."

[flickedmethevs]

"You smell."

This is the perfectly natural response to make. All kids smell.

"What sort, then?"

[di_or_dci]

"Getting in some practice for the next undercover job, Carling?"

Sam's posture is stiff as he takes a seat at the bar, gaze resting on the two offered specials for longer than is entirely necessary.

"How's that going, then?"

[flickedmethevs]

If looks could kill, Tyler wouldn't have made it through the door.

"What's it to you?"

It's as close to What'll you have? as he's going to get.

[di_or_dci]

"Could offer you a bit of advice, couldn't I?"

Though he'd do better giving over recipes, would Sam.

"And I'll take a pint of the bitter. Ta."

[flickedmethevs]

He snorts, and shakes his head.

"Could you now? Did so well an' all workin' undercover that las' job?"

Never mind his idea showing some result. Ray's still smarting from being chased down the pavement by the Guv after the footie match. And he's none too soon to forget Tyler putting his face into a wall.

It takes some effort to stop glaring long enough to fetch his pint, but eventually he does. After all, it's his job. At least for the moment.