As of late, it had become a precarious habit to end up in bars by the end of the night. Whatever the reason behind the action, it was somehow the abysmal destination where men smelled like urine and sweat and everything I didn't want to have to smell under the influence of whatever drug of choice. There were so many other occupants that were under an influence of some kind, generally a drug I had created thanks to the God given power Mother Nature invested in me. Being able to manipulate the earth into whatever substance I wanted had its perks, naturally, and I had always planned on using them to my advantage. I had made several sales in the early evening, but as the skies fell dark the customers had their fix and I moved onto bigger and better jobs that generally took me away from the park and the woods where my operation tended to run. I had somehow acquired the brilliant idea that I simply had to execute with a promptness that might rival the ridiculous whims of the weather in temperamental areas. Why wouldn't you want to have an impromptu chase with your brother and a herd of zombies that you, yourself, were the master of? I had little practice with said power, and Mother Nature offered me the perfect opportunity by ... allowing my brother and I to find a shovel laying in the open for us to "borrow" and utilize on his behalf as I didn't need a shovel to move the dirt off of the graves and rise the bodies like daisies. After this momentary rising, we proceeded to reenact a seen from Shaun of the Dead to my liking.

And to my satisfaction, we did.

While I had attempted to commandeer an evening with my brother, the little fucker clearly had plans that involved too much estrogen for my liking, so I let him sail solo onto whatever womanly island he had planned. The gracious gesture of me was offered outside of a bar that he and I frequented together after jaunts to graveyards such as our prior activities, or when he helped me work in the weapons shop. Instead, I pushed open the back door exit, using it as an entrance into a building I was so familiar with that the cook who saw me nodded a greeting. While I didn't bother a reply, I slipped through the kitchen with enough energy that some of the newer servers believed I worked there to enough of an extent that I slipped behind the bar. That territory was not new to me, and the familiar landscape of bottles filled with familiar liquor beneath their caps sang a boisterous lullaby that I was only too eager to hum a reply to. As if to keep up appearances, I leaned on the bar, snagging a beer and using the magic bubbling just under the surface of my skin to flip the top off and straight into the trash.

"Points to me."

The words were mumbled, the good humor evident though beginning to slide towards agitation when patrons of the bar looked like I was their servant. Firstly, the shot of tequila I poured slid down the bar with an ease that said I had worked in a bar before, but it tipped right into the man's lap as the glass was happily under my magical veil. The next order was softer, and from the look of the woman she might actually need said whiskey sour. An easy drink, poured quickly, before I could hand it to the young woman sitting at the bar.

"Why not go straight up without the sour? The more buzz, the merrier!"

The words were short lived as the manager walked around the corner, noting my presence. "Hey! Get out of here before I call - ... Davante, you have to stop doing this." His words drew a grin to my lips as I left my gaze on the woman. "I guess your drink is on the house while I was... not on the clock." Beer in hand, I walked to the other side of the bar to find my own seat.