#subjuggulator

The uniformed fish next to her gave her a goggle-eyed stare, the effects of their drink of choice long established. “Whadd ‘re you drinkin’, huh? Issit good?” Their slurred words almost swam with the flowery liqueur dripping from their cup and Essint snorted. Murderous Messiahs, if she wasn’t already drinking she could almost get sloshed off the fumes from this one.

“Keep to yourself, mountain shadow,” she replied, naming them by that soft shade of violet piped along their sleeves and coat collar. It was a pretty enough color, at least in this lighting, perfect for depicting a stone in shade. None of the dehydrated pigment barrels in her room at the Panomura contained this tone. Shame, but she wasn’t going to drain it from the troll sitting next to her. She was, after all, off-duty, with the only hint of art left in faded smudges across her least smeared leggings.

The mountain shadow troll frowned, but it only gave an impression of a pinched fish. “Wush only tryin to be cur-tee-iss,” the last word carefully parted into its three distinct sounds. “But,” they sat up and managed to (honest-to-honk) flounce in their seat. “I shee im naw wanded.”

They suddenly spun to the left and lurched off the stool- too quick for what they intended, but the realization was too slow. Essint threw out a hand to keep them from falling off entirely, but the troll gave a warbled shriek instead. The hand Essint used to grab them had earlier held her cup with dregs of clown juice, which were sacrificed onto the fish’s lap, staining the soft grey fabric.

“This was my only cashual outfit,” the troll cried out, any true rage muffled by drunken bewilderment. Essint let go with disgust and the fish patted fitfully at the sticky dampness. This is why she didn’t like helping people outside her job. Hell, even any gratefulness from grubling priests was shallow and fleeting- even more so by the soon-to-come death squad. 

She only grunted in response to mountain shadow’s mutterings about “fashun” and “expense”, turning back to the sunset-orange bartender. He gave the seadweller a small look before glancing back at Essint, and then gave a tired shrug. They may have been castes away, but he and her both knew fish fickleness to an unwilling degree- a rare moment of solidarity.

“Done,” Essint declared, pulling caegars from a saint-headed statue she pulled from the space around her and placing them on the counter. The bartender did a quick mental tally, little psionic motes fizzing into existence as he did and popping once the sum was completed. He kept the tip, as always, and poured a nearly glowing liquid into shot glass for her- not as always.

She snorted in amusement with a small smile twisting her lips before downing the shot in a quick go. The taste coated her mouth with brightness and the taste followed the journey down her throat. She shook her head in surprise, “Mercies, that’s fucking tasty.”

The bartender nodded back smartly. “They should be gone if you come back tomorrow,” he said, shaking a hand towards the unusual night crowd. “See you then?”