Chapter 218: Bar Bustle and Tussle

Author’s note: Hi guys.

So welcome to March, here's a chapter to kick things off.

Enjoy! 

Chapter 218: Bar Bustle and Tussle - link: https://www.patreon.com/posts/123520954

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Chapter 218: Bar Bustle and Tussle

Playing it safe-ish, I had another Basilisk's Gaze - and then one more. It might have been a long time since I had enjoyed myself in a pub - or a club - but from what I remembered, mixing drinks rarely ended well. Seemed even wiser when one of those drinks could lock your body stiff, like some ancient beast had its eyes on you. No telling what might happen if different drinks started feuding in my stomach.

Unfortunately, that good sense didn’t last long. A petite woman slid onto the stool beside me, her laughter light and careless.

"I hear you’re a bit of a beast, Grey. That true?"

"Can shift to one," I said, the words slipping out way too easily before I caught myself. "N-not that I'm going to do that here."

She laughed again. "No, no, no. Folk here’ve had their fill already — might see you as something worth hunting. What I'm thinking of is a Fang & Claw."

"What's that?"

She jabbed a finger at the chalkboard, listing the drinks with a grin. "Sharp, bitter, and served with a side of courage. Think you’ve got it?"

Of course, I did. But I would have to be stupid not to see what she was trying to do - stoking the fire of my pride, daring me to bite. And damn if it didn’t work.

'To hell with it!'

The beast-me just couldn't back down from a challenge. That's why not long after that, two shots of Fang & Claw slammed down in front of us.

"Here’s to courage," she said, lifting hers. I followed without a second thought.

The alcohol hit sharp and bitter - though not in the way I had feared. It tore through courage, clawing and biting at whatever resolve held firm. Something in the drink - or in the challenge of it - stirred the beast just beneath the skin. My nails thickened into claws, gouging deep into the bar’s worn surface. My fangs followed suit, and a growl broke free before there was time to choke it down.

My pride took the hit and demanded an answer. Lame, in a way, considering it was just a drink.

Luckily, I wasn't the only one. The petite woman beside me slammed her hands down too, though her nails barely scratched the bar compared to the gouges I had left behind and her roar didn't compare to mine at all.

'My win!'

But before I could burst out laughing, reveling in my victory, the effect of the drink wore off and my claws and fangs returned to their human form.

"Balls on tits! You really are a beast," laughed the woman, shaking her head. 

Thal, the Barmaid, wasn’t nearly as entertained.

"Fun as that was to watch, that was the last Fang & Claw you’re getting," she said, fingers tracing the fresh marks my claws had left in the wood. No heat in her voice, though she didn’t look pleased either. "A few scars on the bar give the place character - a bit of history for the regulars."

"S-sorry."

"Hey, nobody holds it against you," she grinned, gathering up the empty shot glasses. "Told you already - you just clawed your name into Drunken Filly’s history. Any more, though, and I could get my ass in trouble with the owner.” Her attention shifted to the man settling onto the stool where the petite woman had been. His buddy was leaning against him. "So, what’s your poison tonight, Hopps?"

"Three Harpy’s Screeches, Thal," he said, grinning sharp enough to make my skin itch. "I want to see how you handle that."

Didn’t need to ask what that meant - the shift in Thal’s stance said it all. "If you want to ruin someone's night, ruin your own, Hopps"

"Come on, Thal," his buddy slurred, swaying against him. "It’s just a drink."

"But it kicks with such force that it makes ordinary humans' ears ring for an hour."

"W-what?" I barked, hands flying to cover my big ears. The tavern was loud enough already - worse than the main lobby at City Hall. Fewer people, sure, but packed into a space tenth of the size. My ears had been pounding since we walked in. Getting used to the hustle and bustle of the city helped. But if not for the booze and my regeneration keeping the worst at bay, I would have been curled under a table by now. No way I would make it worse deliberately.

"I don't think I want to have a drink with you."

"Oh, come on, babe. We’ll find something else."

"No need to get pissy."

At least they didn’t push for a Harpy’s Screech. Still...

"May I, boys?"

Hearing that voice, I froze like I had just downed a shot of a Basilisk Gaze.

"Who in the... oh, sir. Of course." The drunk gave a clumsy salute while Hopps silently cleared the stool for Deckard.

"Easy now, boys. Not keeping her all night. You’ll get your turn." His words weren’t just for the two idiots, but for the whole crowd surrounding us and in a way to me, too. A warning. Even though he stepped in like some knight in shining armor to save a damsel in distress - once again - I couldn't expect him to do it all night. To be honest, I couldn't help being disappointed, but at the same time my heart fluttered.

"So... how's it going, girl?"

"Well, I had a couple of shots of the Basilisk's Gaze and..."

"Not talking about the drinks," Deckard interrupted, voice softer than usual. "How are you holding up?"

"I-I… not sure what you mean."

He leaned back against the bar, eyes watching me while motioning to the barmaid to give us some space. "Look, getting through shit like Esulmor takes guts. More than that. But getting back to normal? That’s where it breaks most folk. No enemies here, you get me? No one breathing down your neck, no blade to your throat. Just you and the things you did to stay breathing. So, tell me - how are you holding up, girl?"

'How was I holding up?' A question I wasn’t sure how to answer. "Vara didn’t really leave me the space to think about it."

"Whether she meant to or not, she did you a favor."

Couldn’t help seeing the guardswoman’s grin in my head at the praise, and right behind it came everything else I had been through. "I think... I think I've come to terms with it already. Somewhere along the road to Castiana - or even before that, when..." My eyes darted around at the faces watching, my throat tightening. "...when I fought the mossbear. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too numb to this kind of shit by now."

"I don't think so," Deckard hummed, sounding damned sure of it. "Might just need more time. And when that time comes... well, if you need someone to talk to... you can come to me."

"By the tits, Deckard. Never knew you had it in you," the Barmaid whispered, wide-eyed, tears shimmering in her lashes.

"Oh, shut up, Thal. Why don't you bring us two Dragon Farts?"

Her eyes went even wider. "A-are you sure?"

A damned good question, and one I was more than happy to leave in her hands. From what I have heard of Dragon Fart, it was so strong a drink that it could burn a hole in your stomach. 'Was he betting on my regeneration?'

Deckard’s grin stretched wide as he glanced my way. "She may not look it, but she’s shaken off worse, Thal."

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Author’s note: As you read yourself I really did enjoy writing about the different drinks - sorry. And we still have one left. 😁

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