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A human walked into the Ninth Circle and sat at the bar. It sounds like the beginning of a lame joke, but the fact remains that there was a human sitting in a normally supernatural bar. The human was male, middle aged and bearded, eyes a bit tired and clothes a bit rumpled. He wasn't a newcomer to the whole monster thing, as he'd written countless books about the subject (bestsellers with a cult like following), and the several pairs of eyes boring into his back seemed to bother him very little. The monsters themselves were used to the half-ling and his brother, and Ishiah seemed to know this newcomer so they allowed him to stay. Ishiah had gotten a hard look in his eyes when he'd first arrived, but the peri had dipped his head in – what? acknowledgment or respect perhaps, and went on serving drinks. The man ordered a beer and then ordered something stronger.
He'd just finished a shot of vodka when he slammed his glass down and gestured wildly in Ishiah's direction.
“Today has been a really stressful day,” he mumbled. “I used to write nearly twenty-four, seven, and I did okay, you know? People read my books. People enjoyed my books. Funny how they'll read that crap, but they won't read the Bible. Doesn't matter now. Won't be publishing anymore.”
“Why are you telling me this, Chuck?” Ishiah asked, dryly.
Chuck Shurley gave him a rather flat look, then rolled his eyes heavenward and let out a long breath. “Aren't children supposed to listen to their fathers?”
Ishiah snorted and poured him another drink. He didn't answer.
“How'd you know, anyway?” Chuck went on, swirling the liquid around in his newly refilled glass.
“You've let yourself go since the Apocalypse ended,” Ishiah clipped.
Chuck nodded and threw back his shot. A werewolf in the corner stood up and ventured over, but he seemed to change his mind halfway and turned and left. Ishiah watched him go with a smirk. Chuck figured this bar had enough excitement without a werewolf trying to start something and offered a shrug before ordering another drink.
“You've made something of yourself,” Chuck slurred.
Ishiah took a moment to look around the bar. The table in the corner still had a broken leg from where a vampire had been slammed into it last week, and there was still a bullet embedded in the wall near the door from the day before. Ishiah snorted. “As long as the doors stay open.”
With one quick look around, Chuck snorted and motioned for another drink. “The place looks like shit,” he mumbled, his tone suggesting he regretted praising Ishiah for going so far in life. “Is that a molar in the corner?” He shuddered dramatically.
“I'm still training the staff to play well with others.”
Chuck nodded, tapping his glass against the counter. Ishiah filled it again.
“I can toast to that,” Chuck said. And he did.