"Doesn't matter, as long as the food is edible and it's cheap," I mumble. "I've got tons of cash on me, but I'd rather not waste it on food . . ." I pull out my wallet and check to see how much I have. Five hundred, and an extra three hundred in my account, which is mainly for emergencies - but I hope I won't have to open that account any time soon.
"Sure, let's head over there then," I sigh. "But like I said, let's try not to eat too much - we may need this money for some other stuff."
"Alright then," I say back. I head to the burly man who's taking orders from people. I'm guessing this is one of bar-type food joints that still manages to serve decent food - at least, I hope it is. The man taking orders is cleaning dishes with a rag; his face has beard grown all along the sides.
"Orange swirl vodka cooler please," I say to the man, dropping some cash on the counter. "And lots of chips for my friend over there."
The man nods, and turns around to fill up a small glass of vodka.
I give him a sour look. "What do I look like, some kind of ♣♣♣♣ing Barbie doll?" I hiss at him. "A whole bottle, please!"
The man gives me an unsure look, but then he goes into the back room and comes back out with a bottle in his hand.
"Thank-a-you," I say with a forced smile, taking the bottle in my hand.
I wave over to Tranler. "Hey, buddy! Come over here!"
"I'm tired," I mutter. "And I figure that if I'm going to be traveling with you for God knows how long, we may as well get to know each other a bit better. So you're name is Tranler, right? What were you doing before I screwed up your life?"
"Screwed up? Ha! My life was as boring as ♣♣♣♣ until you showed up. Admittedly, I am being hunted by some dude who insulted my manliness, but it beats Retron..."
I reply sighing at how stupid I just sounded.
"Retron is...boring. It's too...normal. There's nothing fun to do there. When you're in Retron it's living for the sake of living; there's no joy in it. But I've moaned enough, what's you're backstory? You're a Reaper right? I've only heard stupid fake horror stories about Reapers to be honest."
I ask trying to control any awkward laughs that might wither away the first friendly conversation I've had with this person.
I stare at him for a few moments, starting to feel a little surprised.
"So . . . you were bored?" I snicker. "Well, well, well, finally something we have in common - both of us are completely bored with the lives we have." I take a large chug of the drink in my hand. If this guy expects me to get drunk, there's no way that's happening - I just feel so much more comfortable with a drink in my hand; it soothes my head.
"And now, here come the questions . . . of course you want to know about me," I sigh, taking another drink. "The stupid horror stories are so inaccurate. They make no flipping sense. Reapers are lot crazier than that. Reapers should actually be considered a threat, not some silly little folklore. I could kill you right now if I wanted to. I don't even know what's stopping me."
I take another drink to try and soothe my head more. I don't mean to be cruel - I'm just telling the truth.
"Well, first of all, you should be able to tell I have a few . . . problems," I grumble. "I don't like people at all - personally, I wish everybody would die. So you can understand why a part of me doesn't want to put up with you. But there's another part of me that still exists, the part of me that used to care about people. And I guess that part of me is the only reason why I haven't eaten your soul yet."
I give him a dirty look. "Don't think that I have some kind of crush on you or anything though. I'm just repaying the favor - you did save my life, after all. Although, I recommend you don't go saving Reaper's lives; unless the bullets are loaded with light magic, we won't die, so you'll only be killing yourself."
I lean over and whisper in her ear "Because I just happen to be able to control said light magic. Two bad things you've done right there: 1. You gave away your weakness to someone who could control aforementioned weakness. 2. You got cocky and started saying you could kill said weakness controlling person."
I lean back into my chair and summon a ball of light about the size of a soccer ball with a snap of my fingers. I guess I'm starting to regain my power.
"Excuse me, bartender. Could I have your cheapest alcoholic drink please?"
The bartender hands it to me almost immediately. I take a sip and extinguish the ball of light letting the remaining wisps travel slowly up, up towards the ceiling.
"Heh, you're cocky yourself, kid," I snicker. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but even with the element of light, I'm still a tough bastard to kill; if I went down that easy, I probably would have been dead by now, no? And if you want to kill me, you just go ahead - I haven't had anything worth living for in years. If you don't kill me, I'm probably going to do the job myself."
I take another drink from my vodka cooler, its fizzy orange flavor satisfying my tastebuds - I always like these things, mostly because they taste like those orange creamsicle thingies.
I burst out into laughter, and then poke him in the head. "How do you know I'm not older than you? I've been dead for years! And age doesn't matter when you're a Reaper anyways!"
I take a large chug of my drink and, realizing it's empty, I ask the bartender for another one. He brings me a second bottle without question.
"As for your second question, that is a yes and a no. I hate human kind as a whole - which means that there are still specific people I care about, but it's a very, very, very small and dwindling number. I just don't like wasting my time with idiotic creatures like humans. All they can seem to do is destroy each other. But I guess that's why it's so entertaining to watch them. Even when I was alive, I hated humans. Maybe that's why it was so hard for me to fit in."
I just manage to pry the cap off my new bottle when he asks me the third question. I let out a sigh. "I'd show you my wings here, kid, but I think if I suddenly sprouted wings in the middle of this bar it would cause a bit of a riot. And as fun as it would be to watch all the people in here freak out and piss themselves over me, I'd rather not become some kind of guinea pig."
I get a little bit embarassed when Uzuki laughs at me but ignore it.
"So you're a soul eating, people hating, non-rotting, emo zombie."
I take another sip of my drink. I consider trying to continue some more small talk but I can't think of anything else to say.
"I better get some sleep, I'm pooped. Tell the chef my chips took way too long and that I want a refund. Here's some money for some more drinks if you want and to pay for my drink. I'm gonna crash at the hotel across the road. I'll meet you back here tomorrow at... What time is good for you?" I ask handing the money to Uzuki.
I walk across the street to the hotel and organise a room with the surprisingly nice receptionist.
"I'd like to organise another room for a woman who should come through the door pretty late. You'll know her when you see her. Very tanned, black irises that match her dress and eyes." I ask the receptionist.
"D'aww, you're not going to share a room with her? She sounds pretty. The way you described her makes me think you wish you were sharing a room with her." She replies in a mischievous tone.
I consider this for a moment.
"So, two rooms is fine is it?"
I walk up to my room and crash as soon as I hit my pillow.
You're going to be soooo hungover in the morning . . .
Hey, shut up, you . . .
I snicker mischievously to myself, my seventh vodka cooler in my hand. There is no way I'm going to be hung over - I could drink twenty of these and still see straight. Looks like I'm going to have to raise the stakes around here.
I start to look around for any willing contestants. I spot a man with spiky black hair reading a book in the corner of the room, a shotglass filled to the top placed next to his hand. Smart-looking and drinks shots - perfect.
I make my way over to him.
"Hey there, mister," I snicker. "How's about a game of shotglass chess?"
The man smiles at me. "You okay there, miss?"
"I'm fine," I mutter. "What, cause' I'm a girl means I can't handle my liquor? I'm fine."
The man shrugs his shoulders. "Suit yourself."
I pull out a piece of paper and draw out a crappy-looking chessboard with black and white squares, and I place the piece of paper between us. We place the shot glasses - ordered from the bartender - on the paper, and we begin to play.
The game is quick, and even though I drink more liquor, I'm feeling woozy, but I still have my head. My opponent, however, is in hysterics. I can't even tell what he's saying, and in a few minutes, he passes out onto the floor. I burst into partially-drunken laughter.
"Aww, I thought so," I laugh.
Ugh, geez . . . I'd better head out now . . .
What, not going to stay here all night?
It's already three.
Geez, I figured you being partially drunk and all would knock out that keen sense of impatience.
I grab my half-empty bottle of vodka cooler and wave goodbye to the bartender, who still has the same look of suspicion in his eyes - the guy could at least lighten up about all this.
I walk out of the bar and immediately locate the hotel Tranler had been talking about. There are barely any cars out, so I manage to stumble across the street without getting hit by any other drivers.
I head inside the hotel, where the receptionist is reading a book, the clock reading 3:30 a.m. behind her.
"Uh, scuse' me, ma'am, I'd like to rent a room?" I ask her as politely as I can.
The woman stares me down, almost as if she's trying to recognize me. "Ah, you must be that woman that man who came here earlier reserved a room for," she giggles, giving me some kind of weird look and a wink. Whatever that's supposed to mean.
"Oh, he reserved a room for me? Awesome," I yawn, my eyes feeling heavier each minute.
"You're in room . . . 118," she tells me, checking off my name from her computer. "Your friend is staying in room 117."
She hands me my room key. She smiles at me one more time before I head upstairs, unlock my door with the swipe of my room key card, and then I head to my bed and crash onto the mattress.
I wake up to a wonderful sunny morning. I look around for the hotels breakfast buffet thingy but can't seem to find it. I exit the hotel thanking the receptionist on the way out. She said that Uzuki made her way back safely. I make my way over to a café that will probably serve breakfast. I eat the cheapest thing on the menu: toast. After that it's about 10:30 so I walk over to the place Uzuki and I were last night. I could of gotten breakfast here; that would of made things a lot easier.
Now all I have to do is wait for probably hungover Uzuki.
Everything is blurry when I wake up. Another nightmare. Shoot.
I get up out of the reasonably-comfortable bed slowly, so that I don't get dizzy or sick. Then I trudge over to the makeshift coffee maker the hotel staff had placed in my room, and try to make a decent cup of coffee.
When I'm done freshening myself up, I go downstairs to the lobby. Tranler isn't here. He's probably over at that restaurant place. So I leave the hotel, my coffee still in hand, and I head over to the restaurant.
I tap on the window next to his chair, and wave with a half-hearted smile.
OoC: Sorry about late reply; the server was acting up!
BiC: I jump when I hear a noise to my side. I turn and see it's only Uzuki. Her mood seems to be the same since our last encounter. She laughs at my reaction to her tapping and walks inside the building and over to my table.
"So, how was your night after I lef-" I'm interrupted by a muscular man in a black suit and sunglasses pulling me off my seat.
"Dude, what's your problem?" I ask
He punches me square in the nose.
"Alright agent K, you want to fight let's fight. Come at me, bro!"
He tries the same move again but I duck and return a few punches of my own. He tries to spear tackle me but I dodge and flip him onto a table. I pull out my sword with one hand and summon a flame in the other.
"Uzuki, you wouldn't happen to know this guy, would you?" I call back to Uzuki, not noticing the crowd of similarly dressed men and women pointing their guns at my skull.