Belly up to the Bar (C 1.4, H 1.5)

Now, my hands are nowhere near my weapon at the moment, this is a war of words 'far as I'm concerned! So seeing Parcher reach... that just instantly kicks in the adrenaline and my brain races, deciding whether to beat him to a draw or... then Dinero goes down like a sack...

"What the... you frellin' serious?" a word of disbelief at Parcher... going to the guns over an argument? I break eye contact with Parcher. Not quite ignoring him, he's kinda unhinged, but no way he's not gonna bloody the bar and ruin what reputation he has left against an unarmed opponent not even paying him mind... right?

I hurry over to Dinero, coughing up whatever bad dren he swallowed, I hope. For the moment, de-escalate.

I look over at Dakota sharply when I hear her confession, watching her as the last words finish, watching her mouth unmoving. It's a different way for the Whispers to speak to me, using her voice, and I wonder if that's because of Kiwi or if it's because if how I connected with Mikkie.

I am going to be the oracle of death now? Hearing omens of death, delivering their bidding with Mikkie, speaking with their victims?

But now isn't the time for those worthless worries. I give Small Fry a look that is both pleading and helpless before I let go of Dakota's hand and turn to her. "Can you get those drinks over to four for me? I'll deal with this."

Some time, when the time is right, maybe I'll talk to her about what I know she fears, but this isn't that time. We have work to do.

As I push past Parcher behind the bar, I tell Canary, "Make sure he's on his side so he doesn't choke." I fill a pitcher with cold water and bring it over, dumping the whole thing over the pretty rich boy's head. We're going to end up moping this floor up anyway, and I've worked here long enough to see this method get some pass-out drunks on their feet and out the door where they stop being the Belly's burden. Right now, that's the best we can hope for. I want to crack the pitcher over Parcher's head when I'm done, but I need to resist any more pitcher-related assaults for a while or no one will trust me.

Canary,
You're able to keep Dinero from choking, but the toxins he took in are determined to come out. Rolling him onto his side, he's able to expel the dark liquid. It takes less than a minute before he relaxes again and seems to be safe. Parcher's moved on to other customers and Blackjack seems to be forgotten.

What do you do?

I stay with him. I can handle ... body fluids. Gutting fish, firefights... you see worse. I know a touch of first aid but nothing you'd call medicine, so I do what Helix suggests and keep him on his side till this passes.

I burn to say something to Parcher.... he doesn't know how lucky he is that Dinero seems to be ok here. What would happen to him... and to me... if it had gone another way.

I try to pull Dinero to his feet... "hey," I look up to find the nearest strong looking person, who happens to be Small-fry. "Can ya' help me git this guy to the docks?"

I watch Dakota limp off, a weary sadness deep in my eyes, then watch helplessly as Small Fry helps Canary get out of here. I’d hoped to talk to her and find out what she’s got going on with the Tower, but I’m not sure she’d tell me even if they weren’t already halfway out the door. She probably thinks I’m about as useless on land as I was on the water. And she would be right.

I take a breath and move over near Parcher to call over the bar to him. "Pour me two fingers of Top Shelf." My eyes flick up to the expensive bottles we keep out of easy reach. It’s the real stuff, not the usual swill and burn we serve. Normally it goes to the VIP area and pretty much nowhere else, but I have a different plan for this. I don’t really care WHAT it is, as long as it’s expensive, so I don’t specify further.

I nod to Small Fry, "yeah, I'll fine. If I didn't have friends here I mighta wasted that guy," I glance back at Parcher as we go. There he is talking to Helix and shooting me glances. Great.

I wonder if the cargo I'm expecting has been delivered. Probably someone waiting on us.

I follow Small Fry, and point the way to the Refuge, "really appreciate this, Small Fry. What's Parcher's deal anyway? Got somethin' to prove? I don't wanna have to deal with this Dren every time I come back 'ere."

I pick up the glass, the sweet, smokey scent singing out just how good the amber liquid inside is. "Not this time," I answer about the destination of this drink, ignoring Parcher's jab about Canary for the moment. "But I'm sure more will end up over there before the end of the night." I'll have to make sure of it if I want to get the proof I need that Wells Fargo killed Hard Strike. "Keep that stepstool handy."

I turn to go, but then can't help myself from turning back. "Canary wasn't the one causing problems and you know it. If you and I are going to work together, that dren isn't going to fly."

"I'll do that, thanks..." I see the guys waiting by my boat, "I'll take'im from here, Small Fry. Appreciate the hand."

I wish I didn't have a clearly ill crewmate with me at this very moment, but there's no way around it. I can't just wait 'till he sobers up. I gotta do this.

Once Small Fry sets Dinero down, I'll do my best to wake him... get him to at least come to the ship under his own power.

The corner of my mouth quirks down at that. It's not that I agree with him about Canary, but the people from the Tower definitely think they're better than us. I hope this guy isn't the start of her becoming one of them.

I put those thoughts aside and focus back on Parcher. "Tonight, I'm pretty sure she proved that she's better than us, thanks to you."