(Untitled)

[maaaaaaaaassive]

Who: Falco, Lip, Goose, Pit, Slippy, maybe Fox, maybe Leon...this is an open log, really!
What: bar drinkans
Where: ....A Bar. That we shall call Marty's
When: Backdated to Sept 13
Warnings: alcohol consumption for now

Comments

[badasscopters]

Falco had piqued Goose's curiosity. Apparently, he was a pilot along the lines of Fox's type, one to fly the 'Arwing'. It seemed like a really interesting sort of aircraft, and besides, any pilot automatically felt like an ally of sorts. A comrade. A musketeer! Basically, that very idea. He wanted to get to know this Falco better, and his favorite way of doing so was a nice, social outing.

That was especially true since they were meeting up in a bar. Maybe he'd also catch some other familiar faces, as well.

He busted into the place and glanced around. Falco didn't honestly stick out to him (perhaps the other pilot really had accomplished something), but he managed to catch sight of him eventually. It was the hair. That hair.

He approached, and just to make sure this was the one he was looking for, he piped up with, "Falco?"

[maaaaaaaaassive]

Yes, THE HAIR, which was a stark blue and had a perpetual bedhead thing going for it. Goose wasn't as hard to pick out from the crowd.

"Right-o. Glad t'see you could make it."

And he really was. Bar-hopping solo got stale after a while, and if Falco had to pick someone to tag along, this fellow pilot was one of the few people he'd consider. He seemed like-able enough.

[badasscopters]

Good thing that crazy hair like his wasn't exactly commonplace.

"Heh, thanks, good seein' you. Maybe I oughta buy you your drink," The fellow pilot offered, leaning against the counter and glancing over the selection. Raikov had told him of a couple of drinks in the past. He got a tad curious about buying something new.

"And yeah, hey, barkeep? Sperm for me." After receiving a strange stare from said bartender, Goose immediately spurted out, "Hey, no, the cocktail! Not that. Don't even start goin' there."

This is why he wasn't so keen on the idea that some mixed drinks had the strangest names.

[maaaaaaaaassive]

Goose pay for him? Falco would be more than fine paying his own tab, but he wasn't exactly raking in money while he was here. Not to mention, his team still had to pay off an 80-year loan which there really was no end in sight of. Yikes.

"Maybe ya should. I'll pay you back if you want, just don't expect any interest or anythin'."

...he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at what Goose had ordered. No, he it was obvious he wasn't asking for the real thing OR WAS HE?, but...

"...sperm?"

[goaheadnblunder]

Leon actually didn't expect birdbrain to actually take his suggestion seriously, so he was surprised to see Falco enter Marty's.

The chameleon made occasional visits here now and then. Honestly, it was just a common bar where the staff had a drinking night or two whenever they don't choose the Cock n Plucker instead, but for what the place lacked in more sensible decor, this place had some valuable memories that came back to him more with every visit since coming back to this planet, from drunk karaoke to spilling his most personal secrets with someone, and saving a damsel from drunken distress.

But enough dwelling. It's time to make the best of this situation by being a total creeper dick. From his table across the room, he prowled over to the bar, sneaking up behind Falco (a lot harder to do in his current human bone anatomy, actually), and when he slowly rose up behind...

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHICKENFACE!"

[badasscopters]

That even made Goose jump.

[paneldekickass]

Then he was about to jump even higher, as suddenly Leon was joined by a teenage girl in a trenchcoat and phony looking moustache.

"YEAH, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHICKENFACE~"

She wasn't aware that it was his birthday beforehand or anything, but it certainly wouldn't hurt to pretend.

[badasscopters]

Indeed he did.

And he wound up falling off of his stool and onto his face.

[getthisguyoffme]

After a long angry conversation with one of the bar workers and showing his ID twice to prove he was of legal age, Slippy walked to the table the others were at.

"Happy Birthday, Chickenface Falco!" he cheered in a loud but not eardrum-busting voice.

[maaaaaaaaassive]

Falco just burrowed his face in his hands and quietly wished he had never been born

Slippy, to his credit, did not announce it loudly for the whole damn bar to hear. He couldn't figure out if he already knew it was his birthday beforehand of if he had heard Leon, but he'd rather not bring it to his attention.

"....thanks, Slip." Such was his begrudging gratitude. "Did you come in with a mustache and trenchcoat too, or did they ask for a birth certificate?" Of course it wouldn't be long before Falco started in with the remarks.

[getthisguyoffme]

Slippy had already known about Falco's birthday. Living in a floating tin can in space with someone for a while, it would be eventual one would pick up on this sort of information.

He shook his head. "No but one of the bar workers wouldn't believe I was 19 so I kept having to show 'em my ID. What is it with everyone always mistaking my age?" he grumbled irritably.

[maaaaaaaaassive]

"Don't worry 'bout it. Maybe in ten years you'll finally look old enough to come in without being accompanied by an adult."

Back in Lylat, they never had much trouble getting in anywhere. They were well-known for the most part. It went without saying things were be different in an entirely different galaxy, and it was a nice change in Falco's opinion.

He added to that comment by ruffling Slippy's hair. It was Falco-protocol to pick on him every now and then.