A Fucking Drink

[Sora-No]

    A fucking drink. The thing that Mike is currently looking for right now. Now, he doesn't drink often. He does like alcohol, but he doesn't just black out every second he possibly can. If he wants that tingly sensation, that feeling that he's bigger and badder than everything-including his actual thoughts- he'll take that opportunity. So, he headed to the Triangle.

    He doesn't like this.

    He hates being serious about shit. He likes being casual, he likes joking around. It's what his entire personality is based around. Not all this sappy, sad, stupid bullshit. It's totally ruining his mojo. Just get some burning liquid, go to sleep, and reset the day tomorrow. Fucking easy peasy, you know?

    Sadly, he does know that the fucking reset won't work as well as intended. Because, when the thoughts are no longer just in his dumb, barely-functioning brain, but now lingering with another person who now knows, he knows that it's not going to be so easy to fucking chill out for a second. Or every second, in this case. But, he can try. Luckily not everything is given to interpretation for Luke, so he can at least have the sanctity of a soft reboot.

    Mike kind of regrets bringing up this whole 'challenge'. Sure, it wouldn't hurt to have a person to confide in, but at the same time it was genuinely uncomfortable. He unpacked shit he didn't want to, and now he doesn't know where it's going to proceed. The fact that he came up with the idea is the extra nail to go into his proverbial coffin. Fuck his actual life up, dude.

    He'd walk into the Triangle, fully prepped to absolutely fucking hate himself. He'd sit down at the bar, waving a hand for the Bartender. Who seemed to already be in a conversation with a couple people. Fucking wonderful. Though, granted, he does need to figure out what jobs the dude had for him. Nah, he's going to sit back for a bit. He's not in the mood to socialize right now.

    If the Bartender happened to notice him, he'd give another wave. The people he was with seemed to be around the job-giving business owner. Maybe they were once buddies that fought together? The Bartender seemed like a beefy dude who could crush Mike like a fucking melon, so it's not too surprising. He might ask sometime. Though, that time would not be today. He wasn't feeling as great as usual. Honestly, Mike just looked and felt tired. Giving out emotions is not the funnest of times. His whole kidding/asshole mood is kind of squandered. All that's left is a person that needs a fucking drink.

    And a nap.

[Sparky]

    The bartender's gaze flicked over towards the somber redhead, completely unreadable as always. Still, it felt like he knew. More than just "knew something was up" but actually knew. Whether that was true or not was probably never going to be answered. One of the men, an Elf, had started laughing, but quickly stopped when The Bartender flashed a finger in front of him. The single eye'd man moved the finger around towards Mike's direction, and motioned him close. 

    This act piqued the curiosity of the other two men, who would turn their attention towards the lone redhead with some slight curiosity. The elven man had short, sandy blond hair, and a lean, study build, features marked with a multitude of scars and wearing battle hardened armor. It certainly was aged, but, for what it was worth, the man had did well to keep it from rusting. Two swords were strapped upon his back, a dagger to his chest plate, and a short blade sat within a scabbard at his side. the man's green eyes were filled with some intrigue.

    His compatriot, a human, wore much more casual clothing... well... for an elite mage at least. His hair was a muddled brown, and his robes were a clean white, coated in many blue runic designs. He bore no weapon, instead, having a satchel bag at his side. The insignia of the Grand Library located in the Pillar Steppes was emblazoned in gold upon it's leather. Otherwise, he didn't seem too remarkable, though his eyes remained slightly lidded, bordering on slits, making their color indiscernible. 

    The swordsman was the first to speak. "So who's that then, Ga-" The man halted as The Bartender shot him a visibly hostile look- a strange occurrence that was rare even for the pair, given their slightly shocked reaction. "-Bartender?"
    
    "An acquaintance of one of my more valued regulars. He came looking for work, and I found him some." The man stated as he polished a glass. It was obvious that he wasn't going over to Mike. "While his... introduction was less than preferable, for everyone involved, I look forward to his continued patronage. The boy has value in more ways than one." 

    "Oh really then? Haha, well then come on over here boy, let me treat you to a drink!" The swordsman would exclaim, lifting his mug. 

    "I would prefer you get him drunk after my job offer." 

    "Oh don't be such a stickler, the boy needs a drink, and who am I to deny him a good time?" 

    Finally the human mage would speak up. "Rease, I believe you really should wait until The Bartender is finished with his  work before striking up on one of your... eh-hem...  how should I put this nicely? One of your... Liver-destroying-hangover-inducing-borderline-suicidal-drinking escapades?"

    "You know, I'd just like to call it a good time."

    "Your "good times" have put several dozen people into the hospital over the decades. And they were at least in your weight range. I doubt the boy would even be able to stand, much less read, if you started up before The Bartender could get to him." 

    "Well maybe that's exactly what he needs."

    "What he needs is what he came to me for- a job." The bartender finally countered, silencing the two with a quiet, intimidating stare. When the two finally shut up, he would let out a sigh and again motion Mike close. "I have a few items I believe may fit you. As long as you don't treat any interviews as casually as you did prior... I believe you'll fit well."

[Sora-No]

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    Mike would note the Bartender waving him over, getting up and starting the walk over. The two others were... interesting, to say the least. One seemed to be an arch-mage of some kind, given the insignia, though he can't tell where it's from. The other seemed to be the rugged fighting type, given the fact that he's here in armor and strapping himself up to the core to get a drink of all things. Though, given the fact that mages can 'strap up' at any time, it levels the field out if he was mystically ambushed in the capitol city. Gods, Mike's sounding like a bitter dickwad, even if it's just to himself.

    He would enter the group after The Bartender retorted to the elf-warrior. As much as he liked the elf's sentiments, there were a couple flaws in the thought there: First, Mike is not someone who enjoys drinking copious amounts to the point where his brain devolves into a mess of fucking screams and static, and ending in a headache and a good ol' memory wipe. And puking. Lots of puking. Secondly, though this is more of a side little thing. 

    He doesn't fucking know them.

    Luckily for Mike, he wouldn't have to drain himself further by saying no and then explaining 'why', because the mage did it for him, arguing with the other, who seemed to be named 'Rease'. The redhead would give a chuckle at the other two going at it before The Bartender finally cut them off, Mike cutting through both of them to sit down at the bar seat in front of the one-eyed man.

    The Bartender would give him a couple fake compliments before commentating about the last time they had spoke, Mike giving a short, quiet laugh, "Yeah, that was my mouth moving before I let my brain catch up, that won't happen again. What do you have?" Mike would take a look back at the married couple that were arguing earlier. As Mike always is, he addresses people one at a time. And, since they don't have such a heavy weight added on to it, he can at least fake a good conversation for a bit. But, as stated by the intimidating Bartender himself, that would happen after.

[Sparky]

    "I trust that it won't." The bartender simply replied. The man slid the folder over towards the redhead. Within, the jobs had been segmented slightly. the first half bore easy, entry-level minimum wage jobs, but further in came the newer, better ones. Both The ∇ri∆ngle and The Copper Cradle were looking for staff and offering better than normal pay for it, and three separate employers were looking for skilled couriers to help transport packages both inside and outside the city. For both of those options, the pay rates were good, and benefits were passable. Obviously, for the courier jobs, inside city had slightly less going for it, while heading out obviously paid more due to the... risks involved. 

    You know. Bandits and shit. 

    A Shop in Pillar Steppes called Babel's Bits and Bobs was looking for a clerk to assist, and was paying a good bit higher than minimum wage. However, the benefits were a bit lackluster, struggling to crest over the bare minimum. Though, that said a lot more than min-wage jobs, at least. In Ignis Reach, Flit's Flying Circus was looking for an assortment of assistants, animal caretakers, and performers alike, paying very well with great benefits, but the time off was pretty much non-existent. A recently opened maid cafe was looking for a cook, and a diner was looking for servers and cashiers alike. Both boasted... average stats in all regards. 

    All in all, there was a much more decent mix of better jobs, many were out of city, and some were seasonal, but otherwise, all seemed easy and offered decent pay. A few of the more interesting ones were a recently opened Music Shop on the border of Hurricane Keep, the Grand Library in Pillar Steppes, and a few other smaller things. All jobs descriptions bore all required information- location, pay, typical hours, benefits, etc, with applications pinned behind as well. 

    But that wasn't the last of it all. Behind the more safe jobs, there were a good clump of bounties- all perfectly situated in a way that properly fit Mike's skill set. It was almost scary how easily a fighter like Mike could handle some of them if he tried. Almost like someone opened a book on his combat style and fit him to the proper role. Hm.

    The Bartender would give Mike his time to browse the selection, but after the silence had hung for long enough, it was Rease's turn to enter the fray again. "So, Bartender, how's your daughter doin'? Ah, I remember the day she was born, I think that was the first time we ever saw you crack a smile. Am I right, Kalin?"

    The mage, now known as Kalin, let out a small chuckle and nodded. "It was a very heartwarming day, I would agree. It wasn't really something Lyndon or I understood until we had children of our own. And given that high bar, it's unfortunately, probably, not something you'll understand anytime soon yourself, Rease." 

    "What, you don't think I could become a father? I could if I tried!" 

     Both the Bartender and Kalin snapped back in Unison. "No." 

    "Yeah, you know what you're probably right." Rease sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Pretty sure we all know I've never really been all too good with kids either, anyways."

    "Remember that one time you got so furious at a mage's apprentice that you made the boy cry?" Kalin stated calmly, as though supporting his friend's point. 

    "Yeah, yeah." Rease shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. The man seemed contemplative for a time, breaking it for only a moment to take a swig of his drink.  The Bartender let the silence sit, spending his moments polishing a glass, calm and placid as ever. Finally, the swordsman shook his head. "I'd rather not discuss this here. This is a time to celebrate, forget our work and enjoy ourselves."

    "No arguments here." Kalin agreed, lifting his glass. Rease touched his to the mage's happily. Following this, both men cast their gazes towards The Bartender, who simply sighed and rolled his eye, reluctantly touching the empty glass he'd been washing against their's. 

    The two men returned to their cheerful dispositions immediately, well, save for you-know-who, who, at this point, could have been classified as legally dead had it not been for the brief flicker of aggression he showed moments prior. Weird times . Either way, it was only a matter of time before yet another discussion topic arose. Likely much to Mike's Chagrin. 

    Though this one might actually have a chance at piquing the redhead's interest. At least, only for his amusement. Regardless, it would actually be Rease to strike it up first, rather than Kalin. 

    "So, Magic boy, judging from your bookbag, you're enjoying your time in the Grand Library? Have you found any potential successors to train?" 

    "Hmm.. Well, there was one I considered that works for me currently. Unfortunately, for multiple reasons I decided against it. For one, he's of the Amari bloodline, so I doubt I'd be able to train him any. For another, it doesn't exactly seem like he'd be welcome to the idea at present. So, unfortunately I'm still looking. And you?" 

    "Well, you know me. Don't stay too long in one place, keep moving along. That might actually be my Achilles heel here. You'd think I'd run into someone eventually, but I haven't seen the potential or drive in anyone as of yet..." Rease swirled his drink, gazing deep into the liquid. "We're getting old, Kalin. More importantly, I'm getting old. Even if I wanted to, I can't keep fighting the way I want. Hell, even Lyndon had to retire. There's a lot we need to pass down still, to make sure the next generation, our replacements, can fight the good fight in our stead."

    "I heard Lyndon may have found a successor already, so at least we have that." 

    "Good. Lyndon was the strongest out of all of us, if anyone's gonna know how to train an heir, it'll be him." Kalin nodded in silent agreement. The Bartender quietly set aside the glass he was wiping, and picked up another one. The silence stuck, until Rease broke it again with a sigh. "Well, looks like we're all in the proper mood to get buzzed up. Bartender, when he's ready just give him a drink on me and put it on my tab." 
    
    "And you were the one who didn't want to bring the mood down." The mage said with a chuckle

    "Well, now I'm bringing it back up, ok?" The swordsman looked to the poor, unsuspecting redhead. "Well, you want a fucking drink, kid?"

[Sora-No]

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    Mike would take the folder from The Bartender, looking through the jobs. There was the usual jobs, like the bounties, which are easy avenues for quick cash. At the moment, though, Mike's not looking for 'quick cash', he's looking for a consistent form of fucking money. He only really did those when he was going from town to town. Now that he actually found a good place to chill out at, it wouldn't hurt that much to find something that'll actually last.

    He found it quite intriguing how The Bartender knew where he stood on the bounties. They seemed like something he could quite easily breeze through, given how he actually handles fights. Though granted, since he did give the vaguest fucking description on what he could do, it would be a smart move from the guy to give the red head easy jobs since he didn't really fully explain what he could do. Those will always be on the table, at least.

    He found a couple of the interesting jobs in the list, which he would put on the top of the pile; the first was one of the courier jobs, which brought him most places as long as he just delivered the message/object needed. Good pay, and not as high risk as bounties in the price bracket. And the job seems to have a bit more consistency to it, as well. The second, obviously, would be The Triangle. This place was great, and given the fact that he gets to work for the 'resting aggressive face' himself, and with all benefits and wages be less projected and literally paying Mike directly based around what he would do. Lastly, and more interesting for Mike, was the music shop. With Mike being such a resolute player of stupid fucking music and way too many instruments, it seemed quite the catch for him.

    As he was looking through, he would catch the conversation that the other three were having. And he was getting such interesting information. Mostly, the fact that The Bartender and, who Mike will be calling 'The Mage' for simplicity's sake, had a kid. That's kind of wholesome. Given the fact that he didn't find The Bartender to be the person to be the parent-type. But he could bet at least fifty gold on the fact that he was probably a better father than ninety percent of the father figures he's seen/met. And, given how the conversation continued, Mr. 'I Like To Punch Shit' seemed exactly what Mike had thought originally; a guy that didn't have many big responsibilities at the moment, meaning he had a lot of freedom and he didn't have to mature as much. In other words, a fucking lucky dude.

    Then they began discussing their search for 'apprentices'. People to pass the torch on to, shit like that. Given their age, it was a topic he wasn't too surprised about. At this point, you would want to bring up someone who can do your job when you leave. And, given The Mage and The Bartender not slotting their children in to this, they don't want to bring them into this, meaning they want to leave it altogether. They were getting older, so Mr. Punchy might want to change some shit up before he goes looking for a replacement.

    Wow, look at Mike. Analyzing complete fucking strangers.

    He'd raise a brow as he read through one of the jobs as they brought up Lyndon. So, these big fucking units also knew the bigger, badder unit. And, given the fact that they had brought up the hammer-wielding badass finding a successor, there's only one real person that came up in Mike's head: the fluffy bird boy himself, Soren. He could see where it came from, where they both had a lot of virtue in the sense of helping people and doing what's right, so both of them working together is nigh on perfection.

    Thank fuck Mike doesn't have to worry about that.

    Mike would close the folder, giving a nod at The Bartender, "I'll have a scotch, I guess." The redhead would turn at the others as he set it up, giving a small chuckle, "A friend of mine once told me that you're favorite type of drink is 'free', the second being 'cold'." He would offer his hand to the two, "Name's Mike."

    After introductions would occur, he would scratch at his hair, "Yeah, Lyndon's successor, if I'm right, would fit right in. Good guy, big dreams," a small snicker, "bit of naivety, but starting with that never hurts." The idea of being mentored was quite interesting overall to Mike. Sure, he wasn't a big fighter as much as say Soren, but improving so he can get better bounties when he eventually leaves here wouldn't be that bad.

    But he's going to hold off on that. He's tired, and adding to the fact that he barely even knows these stoic motherfuckers, he'll pass for now. At the moment, he's just going to take the free drink, enjoy the conversation until he can't, and then leave.

[Sparky]

    The bartender would nod, prepping Mike's drink, while Rease gave a hearty laugh and shook the redhead's hand. "Good taste kid. And the name's Rease, Rease Inras. Many people just call me the Wandering Swordsman, but that title is much to-"

    "Childish?" The Bartender quipped.

    "Edgy?" Kalin added, quickly following up with "Learned it from the boy who works for me." after both men gave him a look. 

    "-Spirited for my taste... Anyways, I'm one of the only men who ever gave Lyndon a run for his money while we were all in our prime. Still could go toe-to-toe with him today, as well."

    "True, stupid he may be, his prowess with a blade is nothing to be understated. Lyndon and Rease had a healthy rivalry when we were all younger. It was almost a competition between the two to see who could get to the frontline fastest." 

    "Twenty-four vs twenty-two; my lead." Rease bragged. "Though, now adays I just spend most of my time taking bounties. Keeping bandits down and out as much as possible. Hard to do so alone, though. No matter how good of a swordsman I am."

    The mage gave a roll of his eyes and extended a hand towards Mike, shaking the one the boy offered.

    "Kalin Reyas. The only one of our party who had any real talent in magic, aside from The Bartender here- though I'd always like to argue that hiding in the shadows most of the time hardly counts as any real magical skill." Kalin shot the Bartender a glance, but the one-eyed man simply shrugged. "I currently work the Grand Library, which is what the symbol on my bag is from. Seeing as you were looking at applications, I'd also like to extend an offer to come work there as well. Quiet, calm, no idiot swordsmen coming in and running their mouths, and I'd like to believe it offers better than livable pay." 

    The Bartender slid Mike his drink and leaned onto the counter, a whimsical light coming to his one good eye. "We were, what, sixteen, when we all met, if I remember correctly? Me and Lyndon, we'd been adventuring together for a good bit of time before we met you two. You both had grown up together, and me and Lyndon had just happened to stumble across one another. Still boggles my mind how well we all fit together."

    Kalin nodded. "Lyndon as our devilishly handsome tank, Rease the king of the front-lines, you slipping in and out of the shadows with your twin daggers, and me offering support from range. Certainly we should have had more balance, but somehow we made it work."

    "Well Elfie entered we actually had a healer. And oh did Lyndon fall hard for that girl." Rease and Kalin laughed, even getting a small chuckle from the bartender. "So, Mike, you said you knew the young individual Lyndon has selected as his apprentice? Mind telling us a little bit about 'em?" 

[Sora-No]

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    Mike accepted the handshake, slouching a bit in his seat. These guys weren't too bad. They seemed like people who've done some serious shit. In their prime, they were probably terrifying murder machines, especially the Bartender. Sorry Swordy McSwordface and Nerdy MagicBoi but nothing can really top the man that can make your fear for your life with a fucking deadpan stare.

    Mike would give a small laugh at the name, quickly stifling it. Seriously? The fucking Wandering Swordsman? God that just sounds dumb. Not even edgy kind of dumb, it just lacked any creativity. He's probably heard someone call themselves a 'Wandering Swordsman' a million times, without even being hyperbolic. At least he'll give him props on being literal. He has swords, he wanders. It's all in the name, bingo bongo.

    "Sorry," the redhead would say after regaining his composure, "I just thought you'd go for something that would at least scare any adversary that hears it." He would give a small shrug before continuing, "Hell, if you're reputation is as big as you're making it sound, your name could've literally been your title. No wishy washy nicknames needed."

    He'd shake the other's hand, eyeing him up. Him and Rease were almost polar fucking opposites. Sure, Kalin was fit, he looked like he at least attempted to keep a working body that arthritis wouldn't make implode. But Rease was built to fucking party. Kalin looked like just... a mage. It's hard to even gauge the whole mage shenanigans without actually seeing any of the cards up his sleeve.

    "Hey, hey-" Mike would quip at the defense of The Bartender, "He can use magic and kick someone across a room. Punting with accuracy is a magic in itself." He would chuckle slightly, giving a shrug at Kalin's offer. "I'd have to think about that one. I got to take care of some shit before I even think about going anywhere."

    He would take the drink, thanking The Bartender and shuffling in the stool. He wasn't feeling too great, if he's being honest. He came here to get a drink, go back to his shitty hotel, and think about how wonderful of a human being he is. But instead, he's in this weird sort of limbo of a conversation. And he's wondering if half of his jokes are coming off as toxic just because he's not in a good mood.

    Amidst his thought, he noticed he was asked something. And he finished his drink. Double bummer. "Could I get another one of these?" He'd ask The Bartender, sliding the glass over to him, along with the money for it. Now, to talk about what the question was. It's an easy question. He can kind of skirt around it, finish up, and leave.

    Or at least attempt so.

    "Yeah, the dude's name is Soren. Not a bad guy, he's very morally strong." He'd give a pause, then would laugh, "I'd talk about the way he fights, but that doesn't really matter because whatever opinions I have on it will get corrected or changed up by Lyndon." A very small huff would leave his mouth. Shit. What else can he say at this point. Because, as much as he'd hate to admit it, he only has impressions of Soren. He's a good guy, but he still doesn't know much about him.

    "He's got a nack for looking at the positive side of a lot of things, and from what I've seen of him is nice to everyone. He's naive, though. He either hasn't seen much of how the world works, or chooses to ignore it." The last phrase had a dark undertone to it, but he quickly got a smile, chuckling as he continued. "But hey, him and Lyndon should sync up well, they're both overwhelmingly positive."

[Sparky]

    "Believe me kid." Rease started with a sigh, rubbing his temples as he spoke. "It wasn't exactly my choice in the matter. I never actually preferred nicknames in the first place." 

    "It's more of a descriptor than it is an actual nickname." Kalin interjected. "He's a swordsman. And he wanders. Though, really Rease, you should at least stick around long enough to introduce yourself."

    "I try to! It's not my fault some drunk at a bar can't remember it when he's retelling a tale to his buddies." When Mike mentioned their reputations being big enough that their names should have been their titles, the three shifted slightly. "Time erodes memories, kid. If you're not a legend, a hero, or have a statue or something of the like dedicated to you, most people tend to forget. The lives you saved eventually fade away, taking their memories with them and leaving only stories of a stoic group of young men with a few enough braincells and enough muscles to make a living out of adventuring."

    "There are a few scattered towns, villages, and one city that still make note of us. But in a world of heroes, a world of gods and goddesses, we tend to be a few drops in the bucket. Don't get us wrong, we saved many lives and fought in many battles, but we never slayed a big bad villain, or took down a raging monstrosity. People appreciate being saved, but the public looks to remember the notable and remarkable." 

    "Take one soldier out of an army, and he'll have years worth of stories to give you, stories of glory, triumph, fear, and defeat. But no one will remember his name in the story books unless he was the one leading the charge, making a defiant last stand, or pulling off the impossible." The trio went quiet for a moment, while Rease swirled his drink around in his glass. The man knocked it back easily as Kalin started talking again. "It tends to be why you see many heroes and adventurers earning loving nicknames anyways. Their stories aren't important enough to have their names remembered, yet somehow their feats are enough to earn them some form of infamy or legend about them." 

    "Irony is, sometimes those legends become bigger than the adventurer themselves, and suddenly this nickname is more mythical than the man." Rease slid his glass towards the Bartender, who refilled it and slid it back. "So the moral of the story is, Kid, don't go adventuring hunting glory, don't do it because you want your name in the history books. Do it because you're helping someone-" Rease glanced towards Kalin "-because you want to grow yourself-" the man nodded towards the bartender "-or you just want to have a good time.-" The man knocked back his drink in one go, sighing as he set down the glass. "-Sure, the stories may not last forever, but the lives you saved will take that gratitude to the grave. When you go out there, even if you're not in the books, you're still giving people a second chance at life they wouldn't have had if you didn't come along. A chance to live their lives instead of having them cut short." 

    "Wow, look at you all grown up, being all philosophical and introspective." The Bartender teased as he filled up the man's drink one more time. "Maybe this stuff is hitting you harder than I thought, do I need to cut you off?"

    "Listen here! I can be all smart and whimsical too, you know... I just don't like to... cus it's boring." Rease snatched the glass away from The Bartender and waved his hand in the air. "Anyways, sorry to get all preachy on ya kid. I promise, it doesn't happen often. That's usually a Kalin thing." 

    "It's true~." At the defense of the Bartender, Kalin would roll his eyes and wave his hand dismissively at the boy. "Oh hush you. Being able to boot something isn't everything. Now booting something with a giant fist made out of light like you're bitch smacking something with a god's wrath- that's where the fun is." 

    The two men laughed, while The Bartender chuckled, making a few more quips and jabs at one another before turning their attention back to Mike. The Mage seemed understanding of the boy's wish to get things in order, but the two men really seemed interested to hear about Soren from Mike. And, while the young redhead didn't think he said enough, the reactions on the two men's faces said otherwise.

    While Mike talked, The Bartender refiled the boy's drink. At the same time, the swordsman and the mage nodded repeatedly at his talking points, exchanging a few quiet words and either chuckling or nodding in agreement again. Neither of them seemed fully surprised in the slightest, and Mike certainly hit the nail on the head with his final assessment of Lyndon.

    "That sounds exactly like the kind of Boy Lyndon would pick." Kalin said with a chuckle. Rease folded his arms and nodded. 

    "Hopefully the constant loop of positivity doesn't break reality." Rease sneered at the comment. It seemed to amuse him to no end that Lyndon essentially had a miniature him to train. "Anyways, enough of that one, tell us about yourself Kid. Got any plans for the future, stories to share. Hell, just anything with friends or just shit you wanna throw out. We're drinkin' buddies now, so whatever is said with us, stays with us. Such is the oath of BOOOZE!" 

    Kalin smacked Rease on the back of the head, and when his head went forward the Bartender added a smack upside it for added measure. 

[Sora-No]

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    Mike would nod, understanding the guy's stance on that. Of course, he's not wrong at all. Typical older people and being fucking right, how dare they. Honestly, he shouldn't be surprised, what with all the trio's probably accomplished and seen in life. He's had his fair share, but they could probably double or triple what he's done with just one story. Per person.

    Maybe he could bring up that thing. Nah, on second thought, he'd rather shoot himself in the goddamn face.

    He mustered a small laugh at Kalin, "Couldn't he do the same thing with shadows? I mean, if you can bitch smack anyone with the wrath of god, it's admirable." Both of them had completely different skillsets, so it was hard for him to really compare where they'd sit on terms of an actual fight. If The Bartender fought from the shadows, he probably wouldn't make it a fair fight and put in enough foul play to ensure his win. But Kalin could just kind of nuke everything until he eventually hits The Bartender.

    "Yeah, Lyndon and him had a spar when we were out on a job, and Soren, uh-" the redhead would scratch the back of his neck, "What's a nice way to say he got absolutely fucking wrecked?" After some more laughing, he would continue, "I mean, Soren's agile as shit, and dodged a lot of what Lyndon was throwing at him. But when Lyndon hit, he fucking hit. Makes me want to get a chance to spar with him." He'd dismissively shrug, "Though without me magically switching shit around, I wouldn't stand a chance for very long."

    Mike would look at his drink for a split second. Cute, drinking buddies. He usually isn't around long enough for him to make drinking buddies, but apparently he just Houdini'd his ass into drinking buddy status with a couple statements. He's going to play it safe for now. Who knows, maybe the booze that Rease loves so much might make him unwind a bit.

    "What do you want to know?" After taking a small sip from his drink, he'd continue on that statement, "For like, the simple shit, I'm from Solae, I'm 19... I fight shit? I don't know what else you really want to know." It's not like he's that great or interesting of a person. He's still young as fuck, it's not like he could monologue for a fucking eternity about life and everything he's ever seen or experienced.

[Sparky]

    "Hmph. Reminds me of when Lyndon and I sparred as youngsters. He always had a... let's say a rude left hook." The bartender noted. "Though I should say that I don't think you're giving Soren the credit he requires. For Lyndon to want to spar with him at all means he has potential. Which he does. The boy just lacks experience is all."

    "Yeah, like experiencing a warhammer to the face." Rease mumbled.
    
    "Or being suplexed so hard your head gets buried into the dirt."

    "Or being used as living baseball bat to be swung into your friends..."

    The three men remained quiet for a good little bit. The only noise came from Kalin clearing his throat, and the clinking of ice as Rease took a good long drink of his glass. And then it was just back to being utterly quiet.

    "Man Lyndon fucked us all up whenever we tried sparring with him didn't he?" Rease finally broke the silence, setting down his glass with a hearty laugh. Kalin seemed embarrassed as he nodded along, and even the Bartender had to agree with a smile. "I mean, I could go toe to toe with him most of the time, but whenever you give him an inch, he takes the whole damn mile and then whoops, your head now has a new home planted firmly inside your ass." 
    
    The other two men nodded in silent agreement. 

    "I only sparred with him a few times, but I think I only got close once. He's just a machine." Kalin sighed. The man planted his chin into his hands, elbows on the counter. The Bartender shrugged in response, apparently preferring not to share his own stories about the big man just yet. 

    Though given the one example he gave, it can be assumed he was probably just trying to  save face here. 

    Rease perked up when Mike prattled off a few small things about himself, smirking and shifting to better face the kid. "Come on now, there's gotta be more to it than that. Like I said, any plans for the future or anything like that? Hell, funny stories about things with friends, anything of the like? You've gotta have somethin' interestin' stirrin' round your noggin'."

[Sora-No]

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    Mike nodded along with what the Bartender said, "Yeah, Soren did his best, I'll give him props on that. With what I could tell about Lyndon, that fight should've ended sooner. I think Soren knew that and went for a more evasive procedure, since Lyndon could rock his shit if a shot was connected." Though it did take him a second to note the tension that had fallen over the group.

    Jesus. That doesn't feel good. He's getting the impression that Lyndon isn't the greatest to be around. Sure, when there's no fighting or friendly competition involved, he seems like a good guy. But in the grand scheme of things, maybe he takes what he learned too hard. Going all out on friends for no reason than to win, no matter how friendly of a spar it could be. He would have to take a second to reevaluate Lyndon next time he saw him. Or just hope he never sees him again. Because he's not going to take up his previous offer of a spar if the other person doesn't know friendly restraint.

    The redhead would chuckle at Rease, glad some tension was eased as he took a sip of the scotch before speaking again, "I don't have any plans for anything, right now. Just kind of figuring shit out." Another quick sip of his drink. He doesn't want to bring up what's going on his head right now. After the terrible idea of a game he brought up with Luke, his mind's in a lot of places. Maybe he could change the subject to something else or bring up a different topic instead of the constant loop of profanities leaving his mindmouththing. He would take a long pause before saying anything.

    "Honestly? The only thoughts coming through my head aren't ones I'll brag about." Fuck. Look what you've done. Look what happens when you listen to the dumb brainmouththing you own. You couldn't think of something different for two goddamn seconds? And now he's got to try to joke around a statement that he said in no fucking joking matter.

    But that wasn't said as a joke. They must know that. He literally left Luke's hoping to calm down and get that thought out of his mind, and he's still fucking dwelling on it. Fucking gods alive, Mike is the dumbest human being out there. Couldn't keep his cool for two fucking seconds. Absolutely deplorable.

    He wouldn't say anything for a second, finishing his drink in one long sip. "Sorry, that was out of taste." He'd tap on the bar for a second, thinking on how to change the subject. "I kind of dabble with fighting and magic, if you want to know anything about that, I guess." Well, shit. He doesn't really know where he can take this or shake this. Bartender seems to get where he was at when he came in, maybe he can dive in and carry his ass out of this hole he dug himself.

[Sparky]

    None of the men looked worried or bothered. Or made any real comment on it. They all seemed to pretty much... well... understand. The Bartender was the first to speak. And this time, it wasn't just some short quip. "We all have thoughts like that, Mike."

    The Bartender hummed and turned as he polished a tankard. "We all have days, moments, hell, weeks where we're haunted by something. Big, small, annoying. You should understand by now that we ourselves, with everything we've been through, how long we've lived, have our own demons. Obviously, we've been sparing you from them. Talking helps. Eases the pain slightly. Clears the mind. Otherwise it all starts to build up. And like a bottle under pressure, either something is going to leak out to relieve it, or it'll all burst."

    "Why do you think we all still meet up and reminisce? It's our way of decompressing. Remembering where reality lays. Ground ourselves. But, before you go thinking I'm telling you to spill your guts- I'm not. You'll talk to whoever you want to talk to when you're good and ready to do so, when the person you tell it too is ready for you, ready to be there for you. You don't have to apologize for anything. I can read it on you, every story etched into your skin, your eyes, your personality, your expression. You won't just wake up and be ready to talk about every little thing. So don't apologize for anything. Just know that some people may be ready for you well before you're ready for yourself. Don't push them away because of that." The bartender looked towards the two idiots sitting before him with a softer gaze. "Don't be afraid to form bonds, because sometimes it turns out that's the thing you need the most, even if you don't realize it." 

    "You're a good kid, Mike." Rease added. "Don't let it all get to you. Too much. We all carry sins on our backs and each one of us have enough blood on our hands to fill an ocean- not all of that belong to those who deserved it. Mistakes happen, but we all still came out on the other side as better versions of ourselves because we held onto what we knew was right, and acted upon it."

    Rease reached out and clapped a hand to the redhead's shoulder, a movement that was meant to be comforting. "It's alright to take things slow and figure out your place in the world. But just know you have a place in it."

    The swordsman released Mike's shoulder and returned to his drink. Just like that, the men allowed the conversation to move, as though giving Mike's mind a chance to drift away from a topic he obviously wasn't ready for. Whether he accepted that or not was up to him, but the three men seemed to be master classes in more than just combat. Kalin was the first to pipe up, shifting the subject away.

    "You like magic, hm? Well, perhaps you could swing by the library sometime and I could show you some real fancy spells. More than these two neanderthals could muster." Rease sat up straight and faced the mage. 

    "WOAH, HEY. I see what you're doing here! You're not going to take a potential apprentice away from me- he said he liked fighting before he liked magic, so obviously he wants to hang out with me- his drinking buddy- and fuck around with cool ass swords made out of light while we kick the asses of some dumbass bandits, and not visit some nerdy loser surrounded by boring books."
                                                                  ^{"Neanderthal? Really?"}
    The two men got up into one another's faces. Rease grinning ear to ear, Kalin a smug smirk. "Why on earth would a sensible young lad such as him want to go with some musclehead with an edgy name like "The Wandering Swordsman" instead of "The Owner of The Grand Library" or the "GRAND ARCHMAGE KALIN REYAS," hmmm???"
   
    "What was that? All I heard was some sort of boring snooze fest? He'd certainly want to be at the side of "THE HERO OF BARON'S KEEP," or the "SLAYER OF THE ELDER DRAGON, REASE INRAS," now wouldn't he?"

    "I though you said no one remembered you're name!"

    "Serves you right for not listening! I said a few places still did! How can you be so hard of hearing in such a quiet place such as a library, or is old age finally taking your hearing from you, huh old man!?"
    
    As the two argued, the bartender slid Mike a drink and wordlessly mouthed the words "I'm sorry." 
    

[Sora-No]

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    Mike went silent, not really having anything to say. Honestly he was so tired of hearing this. The whole 'You've been through so much, you don't need to apologize, just let it out when you can' shtick. Though, he can safely admit it was a lot easier to hear from these guys. They were veterans of fucked up shit. With all they've done and seen, he wouldn't be surprised if they found themselves in a situation or two that was similar to Mike's. Having to make a tough call, or even worse than that.

    It just... sucked. He could barely trust anyone within arm's length as it is. How the fuck is he supposed to then find someone who he can trust even more than that so he can gab on about what he's had to deal with. It was a huge leap of faith that he couldn't trust to even work out in general, much less positively.

    But it's just like the fucking Bartender said: give it some goddamn time. Maybe he can find a person in that one shot in the dark scenario. Luke would be one off the top of his head, but he doesn't want to just drop a load like that directly on his shoulders to just... sit there and fester. In both his mind and Luke's. For now, it would seem he's just going to keep going along same as always, and hopes for at least some kind of sign to help his sorry ass out.

    And if not, it's whatever.

    He's gotta take it fucking slow for once. For three goddamn years, he's been wandering around hoping he could find some kind of reprise with what he's dealing with. He could be 'good', like Rease said, or he could be a devil incarnate. Either way, he needs to fucking sort things out to figure out for himself. Until then, he'll just sit here and bullshit per usual, until something gives him some direction, some showing of his place here on this terrible fucking excuse of a world.

    The subject would quickly change, thankfully, with the blunder twins getting into a 'who got a bigger dick' contest. The red head would chuckle, taking the drink The Bartender offered and downing it, getting up. In a sudden flash of green, Mike was covered in light. Shaped and created into... priest robes? He also held what looked like a religious book of some kind, also made in bright green light. With a sneer, he'd speak.

    "I now join Rease and Kalin in holy matrimony. If anyone would deny this marriage, please kiss my ass, or forever shut the fuck up." He would hold the book and magic up, waiting for some kind of response before doing anything. If they're gonna bitch like an old married couple, they're going to get treated as such. In a joking manner, of course.

[Sparky]

    Good job, Mike, you got The Bartender to chuckle. That's literally an achievement, and one you should be proud of! Meanwhile, though, the bickering old couple would stop their spat to look at Mike in his glowing robes. Silence descended upon the bar, the two men narrowing their eyes suspiciously. 

    "Told you he'd be a better mage." Kalin muttered.

    "Doesn't matter, we're kicking his ass, right?" Rease replied with a smirk.
    
    "Oh most definitely." 

    As the two devilishly grinned and prepared some (hopefully nonlethal) spells to teach the young whippersnapper a lesson, The Bartender came to the rescue, clearing his throat and grabbing everyone's attention. "Sorry to interrupt, but it seems to be about time Mike started heading on home. If I'm correct, Kalin, I believe you have work tomorrow anyways?"

    Silence. 

    It was almost as though you could watch the gears turning in their heads. The two men sighed and chuckled, Kalin rubbing the back of his neck as he nodded. "Yes, yes. I suppose it's too late for me to get all riled up anyways. Same time next month, though?"

    "Of course." 

    "Boo, Bartender you always know how to kill the fun. We were just about to have a good and friendly sparring match too." Rease laughed and stretched his arms over his head. Though it was obvious he wasn't all too upset. Whether it was age or it was that time of the night, Rease seemed as though he wanted to wind down the night anyways. 

    "There's always next time- when you're not inside my establishment. Don't forget Rease, I know how rowdy you get."

    "Yeah, yeah. Next time, Mike, next time I'll whoop ya good, though." Rease patted the boy on the shoulder. "Oh, and I'll be in town for a while, so if you'd like me to tutor you on how to really master your fancy magic there to cut some bastards down, come find me. The Bartender should know where I'm at." 

    "Oh nonsense. He doesn't want to have some brute teach him how to swing some sharp stick around, he wants to know how to blast someone into next week! Mike, if you wish to master your abilities in a more refined manner and put them to their fullest potential, come by the Grand Library. I promise you'll not regret it." At that point, Rease would pipe up again and the two would soon start bickering. This time, however, The Bartender stepped between the two and Mike, gently placing a hand on the redhead's shoulder and guiding him away.

    "Don't forget to check out those work places. Some of them offer fairly good pay and benefits. If you manage to get one, swing by and I'll give you a free drink to celebrate." An  almost fatherly smile graced the Bartender's lips. As cold as he appeared, it was safe to say he genuinely cared. It was easy to see why Luke liked the guy. The moments the ice melted and a bit of warmth shone through, it felt pretty nice. "Oh, and, annoying as they may be, it wouldn't be a terrible thing to consider one of their offers to be their apprentice. Even for just some pointers, the knowledge they have to offer in any of your endeavors is valuable." 

    Just before the exit, a flicker of something crossed the man's single eye. "Be careful out there Michael. Make sure to keep your head down tonight, there's a bad feeling in the air. Remember, no matter what you see- ignore it, and head home."

[Sora-No]

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    Mike would straighten up, his back foot planted and ready to move at a moment. While he assumed the statements were in good fun, these guys were also gave him the vibe that they'd kick his ass for the same "good fun". So, he's gonna prep to back up at a moment's notice. He moved his hands back ever so slightly, a faint glow dancing across his fingertips, the shit-eating grin was still plastered on his face as he scanned both Rease and Kalin.

    If he was right about anything, Rease would push first, given his boisterous attitude and need to get up close. Given their chemistry, Kalin would probably be striking at the same time. And, while Mike might know a lot of Light magic, he doesn't know what tricks the mage has got under his sleeve. So, best option would be to keep Kalin between Reese and him, and hope he can keep up with whatever Reese throws at him. Maybe if he used some light as a flash of sort, he coul-

    He would then be cut off by the Bartender, relaxing a bit and standing up straight as before, the glow from his hands subsiding as he put them into his jacket pockets. Thank fuck, I'd probably be minced, Mike thought, his grin fading into a small smile, I'd probably have an even more screwed up face than I already have. 

    "It was nice meeting you two, even if you intended to maim me to commemorate your anniversary." He'd give a small huff, scratching the back of his head, "Two experts against a young strapping gentleman like me? How rude. After I officiated and everything..."

    At the two's offers, he'd laugh, "I'll let ya know. A one v one might be a fun time, compared to getting pummeled for a honeymoon."

    In all honesty, he kinda wanted to test his mettle on these guys. It would've let him burn off some steam and clear his head a bit, too. Even if the match only resulted in him getting senselessly beaten for ten minutes, followed by a doctor's visit and a laugh by both the old warriors. Eh, nonetheless, at least it boosted his spirits a bit more than when he came in.

    He'd direct his eyes to the Bartender as the man spoke, his smile fading into a straight-faced gaze. The warmth in his gaze, it made him uneasy. It was almost... calming. It took him aback for a moment, blinking before focusing back in on the words he said. The man seemed to just... know about him, and it made him uncomfortable. He's being genuine and kind, though, so hopefully him reading him like a book won't bite him in the ass later.

    "Got it." Mike would nod, going back to the stool and sitting down. "Though, before I leave, might as well get another for the road, right?"

    The warning got him to perk up, the redhead's brow raising ever so slightly, before settling into a calm smirk as he took a sip of his drink, pausing to swallow before speaking, "Oh, don't worry about me. Trouble follows me around enough as it is, I've developed a good nose for what I can handle." Though, Mike says this after almost attempting to take on two fully trained individuals that probably have more experience than three, even four of him.

    But that's probably just the drinks talking.