(no subject)

[no_justice]

Death turned up at the Bar expecting to get a drink, only to discover the bar was asleep and the bartender curiously absent. This wasn't a good thing. Then, it occurred to him that maybe he could learn about humanity by talking to people. And who do people talk to if not their bartenders?

So Death has decided to show a bit of initiative, and is now behind the bar.

The specials board has no chalk on it, but in embossed silver, it now reads:

Specials
Mexical
Blavod
White Russian

They're just drinks he likes.