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After a declaration of love and being un-shrunk, the Bar door opens to reveal one fully-sized Aeryn Sun. She looks good, exactly the same as usual. There is absolutely no sign that anything is wrong...that is until she sits down at the Bar and consumes five Ras'laks in quick succession. ~~Cati~~ people always assumed it would be someone not caring that drove her to drink. Not this time.

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And there is a dandy in a booth, not to far off. He's been sulking for the most part, but he's amused now, watching Aeryn drink. At least he's not the only one having a bad day.

Bad? That depends on your definition. Still, there must be something wrong. She's started on the Whisky. A whole bottle. That really can't be healthy. She waves in a sort of miserable, drunken greeting.

Oh, a wave. He rolls his eyes in reply.

Fucking bitch.

"Don't make yourself sick." He calls, coldly.

"I won't. Like you care?" Aeryn shot back. She certainly didn't. When one was drunk, dangerous things could happen, inhibitions lowered, likely to fall into traps. Apathy was a far worse enemy. It could get you killed.

"To be honest, I do not." He admits.

He's just jealous, but don't tell anyone.

Still, he made a promise, and isn't likely to break it.

Scarily enough, Aeryn would break her promises easily. If she felt the need.

"You could at least offer to buy me a drink and tell me why you are in a bad mood."

Then lucky she made none.

"I could, perhaps, but I do not wish to move." It's an excuse, both to get out of buying a drink, and to avoid giving his own reasons.

Also to avoid moving.

A drunken Peacekeeper isn't so easily dissuaded, unfortunately for him. Thus she moves herself and her whisky to his table.

"Drink? Oh sorry, forgot." No sarcasm, alcohol lowers brain proficiency, ya know.

He scowls again, and rolls his eyes. "Not unless you're offering to buy me dinner." And he did say buy, not provide.

"Why not? I've got plenty of credits and few enough concerns." She looked at him properly.

"If you want it, take it." She held out a bundle of credits.

He scowls again. "I cannot spend those at home, and I may not be here much longer."

"But you are here now. So exchange them." She pushed the currency into his hand.

"I owe you." It wasn't clear exactly what for.

"No," he snarls and throws them back at her. "I'll accept nothing from you. From no one. Today especially."

"Today especially?" She let them bounce off her, not caring as they rolled across the floor, under tables. Anywhere. What good was money anyway?

"Today, especially." He repeats flatly and flags down a waitrat.

He needs a drink himself, even if it isn't spiked.

"And what is so special about today?" She paused, swaying slightly.

"Apart from being the day I finally got everything I wanted."

"Nothing." He replies wryly. "Nothing at all."
And that's why it bothers him.

"I see." She didn't.

"I know we aren't friends Montparnasse, but for what it is worth, problems rarely stick around for long. You drink, you forget, tomorrow it's something new."

"Yeah, I wish it worked that way."

His problems aren't leaving.

Well, one of them will be gone tomorrow. Birthdays only last one day, after all.

"And I wish I could help. Seems we are both going to be disappointed."

Another swig.

"Life is a pain in the eema."

"Yeah, unless you can convince a headstrong goddess that she wants to serve Satan, or convince me that I can even ask her too, I think that you probably can't help."

"Who's Satan? Some kind of Bounty Hunter?" Call it drunken curiosity.

"The ruler of out underworld, actually. Of hell."

Montparnasse shrugs and takes another long drink. "You think I'm a sadistic bastard. Meet this man."

"I don't recall saying bastard." Aeryn took a long draw from the bottle and looked at it, surprised it was empty.

"I can't see Illyria serving anyone but herself."

"It was a direct translation." He replies with a bemused smirk.

"Nor can I, though I fear that she'd try."

"Why do you need someone to serve this Satan?" She likely wouldn't remember the answer in the morning, even if he chose to give one.

There's a man in a suit nearby, and for the sake of milicanon, they have not really met.

He's working on paperwork at the moment, and watching the woman put away the drinks with vague curiosity. Why yes, he's looked up and is staring. You could tell him it's impolite, but he already knows.

"Got a problem?" The woman scowled, pouring a generous amount of whisky into her glass. Then she looked at it and started drinking from the bottle.

"No, ma'am, but it's quite clear that you do." He's honest, and perfectly blunt.

Well, he's honest sometimes.

"What's got you drinking?"

"You must be truly intelligent to work that one out." She glared, pouring some more alcohol down her throat.

"Life. Always life."

"Is life really so bad? Some find that they appreciate it." Though most, not fully, until it is too late.

He makes no reply to the first comment. He is not one to snark, nor become offended easily.

"I would have rather stayed dead." Or that is just something she says. A mask that can be worn when the time is right.

The man shrugs indifferently and takes a drink of his coffee. "It is your choice of course. I typically find living preferable, but I've never tried the other."

Aeryn chuckled.

"I didn't exactly have a choice." The aroma of coffee was tempting. She should stop drinking, have coffee instead, but that wouldn't solve any problems

"Well, I'm sure if you talk to the right people, someone can help you out." He might mean kill her, or perhaps he refers to a shrink. Hard to say.

He pulls a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and lights it, taking a long drag. Perhaps this aroma will be less pleasant than the coffee.

He's still unconcerned, either way.

Aeryn scrutinized him, tilting her head. She might never have seen a cigarette before. Cigars, sure. But this was odd.

"What is that?"

"You're joking." He replies dryly, but he's fairly certain she is not.

"A cigarette. I'd share, but I cannot."

"Peacekeepers don't have a sense of humor." Which didn't quite answer the question.

"What does it do? Smells like trat."

"Not a lot, unless you've got an image to sustain." He admits coolly. "Some people find them calming. A mild drug, if you will."

She sniffed critically, before tipping the bottle back once more. She was hardly one to give lectures on vices.

"Are you writing something important?" She isn't really coherent enough to read the paperwork. It's all a bit of a blur.

"Yes, business. Numbers mostly." He glances down at the papers, shuffles them around a bit, and shrugs. "I'm bound, so it's nothing critical, but I like to keep busy."

"No time for fun?" She raises both eyebrows in his direction. There's a slight slur to her voice. Maybe he's imagining it. It's always been there.

"No ma'am, and no reason either.

Besides, I-" He gestures at the stack of papers. "-enjoy this."

"Ah, the paper pusher." Aeryn chuckled. "We had people like you in the Peacekeepers too. Loved to deal with everything in print, but their hands were just as bloody as ours."

And he's not about to let on, so he replies simply, "Sounds as though the name was misleading. Peacekeepers, I mean."

"Not at all." She replied, sipping her drink.

"They kept peace. But there's always a price."

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