Work Text:
Speakeasy
The first time Danny saw the bar, he didn’t think much of it. It was a bar, he was a minor, and there were much weirder things floating around the Ghost Zone. Also, Skulker had been hunting him for sport at the time. He had other things to worry about.
The second time he saw the bar, he noted it as a landmark on his map. It hadn’t moved much, and the large ‘SPEAKEASY’ sign out front made it easily identifiable, even though it had increased in area and gained a sprawling, if patchy, almost-garden. But he hadn’t very many positive contacts with ghosts at that point and was wary of interacting with large groups of them when he didn’t have to.
But the third time he saw it, he not only had time to kill, but he’d spent lot of time visiting Elysium and the Far Frozen, he’d spoken peacefully with ghosts, even ones who had been his enemies, numerous times and his fear of them had been greatly reduced.
He had also, incidentally, just come from a social studies lesson on cultural differences where one of the topics had been drinking ages in other countries.
The Ghost Zone was full of dead people from cultures all across history, most of which hadn’t seen or heard of a ‘drinking age.’ It wasn’t that much of a jump to consider the possibility that the Ghost Zone didn’t have a drinking age.
… and that, if it did, an establishment like a speakeasy, an illegal bar might not care about it.
He really shouldn’t. He didn’t know how his weird body would react to regular, human alcohol, let alone what it might do when confronted with ghost alcohol (assuming it was different). Experimenting was an inadvisable risk. If he had to know, he should wait until he was an adult and do it at home with Jazz keeping an eye on any adverse reactions he might have. Going into a strange ghost bar full of strange ghosts to drink strange ghost drinks with his strange half-ghost body was a stupid idea.
But Danny had sure acted on stupider.
Very slowly, he flew over to the building, checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched. As was typical, the idea of breaking rules cast both the light of excitement and the pall of paranoia over him. Curiosity bubbled within him.
None of that was literal of course. He was in the wrong part of the Ghost Zone for that.
The plants in the garden didn’t react to him gliding up to the door and continued to blithely snap at specks of slightly denser and brighter ectoplasm as they wafted along on lazy currents. Good. Danny would have felt a lot dumber than he already did if the place was a trap. Music played from the other side of the door, and he could hear low conversations underneath it.
He pulled open the door and settled down on the floor just inside. It squeaked. Then, Danny squeaked, because everyone in dusky, smoky, dead-silent room was looking at him. He laughed, because he wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to do and started floating again.
The conversation and then the music started up again, and Danny did his best to sidle up to the bar counter while still flying. Sidle was the right word for it right? The bartender seemed occupied at the moment, so Danny took the time to examine the bar’s patrons.
As expected, they were an eclectic mix. Flappers mixed with cavemen. A quintet of otherwise identical men with increasingly tall hats drank from equally tall glasses. A pair of Greeks argued quietly with a woman in a kimono. A well-dressed violinist, a sawist wearing the rattiest overcoat Danny had ever seen, a toddler with a pair of bongo drums, and an amorphous blob with a synthesizer played something adjacent to ragtime in the corner. Skulker sat on top of his otherwise deactivated suit, nursing a thimble of something.
That last almost made Danny turn around. He didn’t like dealing with Skulker on a good day, but honestly, the ghost seemed… What was the word? Plastered? Yeah.
Plus, the existence of the toddler made him hopeful when it came to not getting kicked out.
He leaned against the bar, trying to look casual. Was there anyone else here that he knew? Amorpho could be anyone, of course, and that inky blackness in the corner, could, conceivably, be Nocturne, but otherwise… No. It was just Skulker.
“What do you want, kid?”
Danny did not jump and yelp.
… okay, he kind of did.
The barkeeper had materialized behind him, cleaning a glass with a towel so white that it made Danny’s eyes hurt a little. The barkeeper, Danny noticed, did not have eyes. An unusual feature.
“Uh,” said Danny. “I was hoping I could… get a drink?”
“You can pay?”
“Do you take ice?” asked Danny. Ghost ice, he’d learned, was surprisingly valuable outside the Far Frozen.
“Let’s see it, first.”
Danny formed a small crystal in the palm of his hand and handed it over. The barkeeper ran his fingers over its faces and grunted.
“Sure,” he said. He set down the glass he’d been drying, pulled an unlabeled bottle from under the counter. He removed a cork in it with a pop and poured something golden-white into the cup. He pushed the cup across the counter to Danny.
That was so much easier than expected. Danny took a cautious sip. It tasted like very sweet milk. He’d been expecting something much bitterer.
“Um,” said Danny, “what is—”
“Milk and honey,” said the bartender.
“With… alcohol?” asked Danny, hopefully.
“No, just milk and honey.” The bartender leaned down, his eyeless face level with Danny’s. “What was the plan here, kid? You don’t exactly pass as an adult, you know?”
“There is the baby,” said Danny. “With the drums, you know.”
“That’s Amorpho being a weirdo,” said the bartender. “So, your plan?”
“Well, I mean, I was curious,” started Danny, before the whole story, short as it was, poured out past his lips. “Sorry,” he finished, “I know that was a lot.”
The bartender shrugged. “There’s a reason it’s called a speakeasy.”
“I thought that was just a way of saying ‘speak quietly.’ As in a whisper or something.”
“Well, maybe,” said the bartender, straightening. “But etymology isn’t the thing that matters most out here, and haven’t you heard that drink loosens lips?”
“This is milk.”
The bartender shrugged.
“Okay,” said Danny. “Are you kicking me out?”
“Are you going to try to talk me into giving you alcohol?”
“No,” said Danny, feeling defeated.
“Then you can stay as long as you want.”
“What’s the drinking age in the Ghost Zone, anyway?”
The bartender snorted. “Age is meaningless and so are Walker’s stupid laws.”
“So…”
“I decide who to serve what to, and baby-faced teens with uneven auras are on my no drugs list. Enjoy your milk.”
Danny sighed but picked up the glass. Maybe he should just go at this point. He turned away from the counter, contemplating his milk, when he caught sight of Skulker again.
It really wasn’t any of his business, but he was curious about why Skulker was getting drunk. As long as he was here, he might as well get some of his curiosity satisfied.
He flew over to the table.
“Hey, Skulker,” said Danny, by way of greeting.
Skulker looked up at him with big, watery eyes and sniffled.
Danny was immediately concerned. “Are you alright?” he asked.
“No!” wailed Skulker in his natural, high-pitched voice. “Ember dumped me!”
“Oh,” said Danny. “I’m sorry. Do you know why, or?”
“It couldn’t have been the snoring! Or that I missed our anniversary! I asked about that.”
Danny sipped at his milk as Skulker listed all the things that Ember might have dumped him for. Honestly, this was much more satisfying than getting alcohol.