Chapter Text
The warm lighting of the bar illuminated the shot glasses on the table, rain tapping on the windows as Mr Plant quickly shifted from the outdoor bins to the bathroom. He had to change into a spare outfit, as his last one had gotten traces of “red wine” on it. Flicking some water onto his hands, he ran them against his petals and traced specific parts of his new outfit, in hopes to cover the scent with a more floral one.
Taking in a breath, Mr Plant mentally prepared himself to finish making it through a long, long, nightshift.
Mr Plant walked himself behind the alcohol bar, and tilted his head at the few void citizens occupying the chairs in front of him, wringing his hands as they asked for drinks.
Mr Plant wasn’t a major fan of his job, to say the least. All he did was spend 6-8 hours tolerating people who reminded him of nothing but his failure of a father, and sliding drinks to crying drunks, flirting with both heart failure and other people at the bar through sobs and bubbles. He wasn’t even sure why he was still working there. He hated it. Despised it. The only good part was that he got to watch blood spill from the heads of the troublemakers he had to bring out back.
The lights dimmed down, as a spotlight flicked on near the stage. Mr Plant slid over a Void 7 whiskey and a Shadowed vodka to the two people in front of him.
Wonderful. All the “late night activities” are happening now. This is definitely not going to help at all.
He started fidgeting with the towel around his arm as he debated whether to actually try paying attention to the activities for once. For all he knew, maybe there’d be someone amongst the group of improvisers and wannabe comedians that he wouldn’t downright despise. Before making a decision, he found it much more difficult to not overhear the conversations of the drunks scattered on the bar stools.
“Hah, and you… wouldn’t even BELIEVE the things this guy does when he’s irritated, just watch ‘im, he’ll probably start it in a bit or two.” Mr Plant heard a voice laugh.
He looked to the frog-headed citizen on one of the stools, who was elbowing her friend while pointing at him. She was a frequent at the bar. Mr Plant simply stared at her, trying his best to stay calm.
“Awh, look at ‘im, the darn little cutie. Already struggling to hold it together.” The frog snickered, clearly not realising how loud she was speaking.
You’ve already used your spare outfit today. You aren’t able to get blood on this one.
Mr Plant turned his attention to the stage. From behind the curtain, the clouds citizen walked out and started listing the activities that would be held that night. One of them apparently being a drag artist, according to the announcer. He knew that there were often drag nights at the bar, but Mr Plant had never actually watched anyone perform drag before. It was never really a concept that interested him.
Turning his head back to the shelf of bottles, he took a forced breath, and continued serving people their drinks.
The lights lit back up, as the bar applauded for the previous round of improv comedy. Mr Plant tuned out the noise while the Clouds announced the next performance, before looking back up temporarily as a familiar tune started to play near the stage.
Mr Plant realised it was the song he enjoyed the most out of the tunes the radio would cycle through on his shifts. He would sometimes listen to the bar radio. He hated most forms of noise, but the subtle bass in most of the songs that played was a simple sound he tolerated. He had the barely noticeable details in the song playing memorised. Well, except the vocals. Sometimes the vocals in the song would sound different to how Mr Plant remembered it from the shift before.
As the lights dimmed down again, he heard the sound of the soft voice start singing. A spotlight flicked on, as a fairly tan figure strutted out.
They had long, dark hair, and eyes covering their face, across their neck and shoulders, tracing just down to their elbows. The slits down both sides of the floor-length skirt traced their hips as they walked. The skirt was practically the same colour as their eyeshadow, which blended from an ice blue to a dark purple, one similar to the colour of certain wines Mr Plant worked with.
They underlined the words they spoke in an angelic voice with their hands, drawing attention to the gloves and thigh-high boots of the same, strikingly dark colour as their hair.
As the boy continued to stride down the stage, their hand came to their chest, which was covered by a holographic shirt, the strapless shirt reflecting countless amounts of colour, some partially lighting the eyes scattered across their collarbone.
Mr Plant felt his face become warm. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol, yet he felt as if he had a shot of Void Everclear.
Catching the drag artists’ gaze as they looked at him, it felt like a single, quick spark flew between the both of them, before the figure seemingly regained their composure and turned towards others in the audience.
Mr Plant wasn’t sure what he was experiencing. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Wondering what was wrong with him, he went back to working on drinks, however still listening to the soft voice of the person on stage.
“Look at ‘im now, looks like the barkeeper has a little crush.” The frog snickered, the bear next to her laughing just loud enough for Mr Plant to hear.
“Nonono, that depends on him even having the ability to love in the first place, darling.”
Taking a breath, Mr Plant tried to count to ten.
There’s no point in having that ability.
Mr Plant would rip each alcohol-poisoned kidney out of the people in this bar if he was allowed.
Nobody in this bar is worth “loving.” Nobody in this bar is worth tolerating.
The people in the bar cheered as the main lights came back on, the drag artist giving a quick wave, smiling as they headed back behind the curtain.
Mr Plant thought to himself for a short moment. He had only thirty more minutes until last call, and then he could finally go home. It was a Sunday. He should have been at home. Resting. But the bills need paying, and killing off the IRS was getting irritating.
Thirty more minutes. That’s all you need to do.
- - -
Mr Plant finally stepped outside of VOID 10 Casino, forcing out a breath he had been holding for far too long. He ripped off his tie, wrapping it around his arm before shoving it into his pocket.
He couldn’t get his mind off of the boy from earlier.
Looking up at the stars that shimmered faintly in the Void skies, Mr Plant walked along the moss covered pathway.
What was that.
He turned his head to the alley between the casino and the building next to it. He could of sworn he heard something.
Taking a step towards the dark alleyway, Mr Plant put his hand against his other pocket, making sure he still had his pocket knife.
Stepping further into the darkness, he tried to figure out what sound he was hearing.
That’s the sound of someone… drowning.
…drowning?
No, someone was suffocating. Being strangled, maybe?
Mr Plant noticed the lights at the back were on. Realising the sound had now stopped, he put his hand into his pocket warily as he turned around the back corner.
Well, that’s certainly a method of strangulation.
It was difficult to fully see the situation, but Mr Plant could make out the frog citizen from earlier in the night, her head and neck being held back by the blue cord of a telephone. Someone had their foot placed down on the frog’s back, forcing them onto the ground. They held the base of a rotary phone in one hand, and the phone itself in the other. Their silhouette showed a jacket sloppily wrapped onto their shoulders, and hair that reached down just to their chest.
The figure dropped both the phone and the body looking up. Their face became more illuminated as they looked up, lighting up the eyes scattered across their face. Mr Plant felt a chill run from his spine upwards as they spoke.
“...Oh! Hello! I thought you- I thought you were headed home?”
He walked towards the body cautiously, before deciding to try and sign to them.
“What are you doing back here?”
“I- I was just, uhm, helping this person, she- I think she just got a bit tipsy, you know?”
“And you helped her through strangling her?”
“...Yes! She could of been a-... a danger to someone! She- I mean you heard her, you heard the way she was talking about you before!”
They stepped backwards, their teeth forced into a very unconvincing smile. He tilted his head with a shrug. Mr Plant, picking up the body, continued signing.
“She could of been more discreet.”
Despite the heavy blush on the drag artist’s face already, they seemed more red and flustered than before.
“...So, what made you become a bartender?”
Were they small talking?
Were they small talking after they just killed someone??
“Bills,” Mr Plant signed. “Bills made me a bartender.”
“Right, right… fair enough.”
“Head inside and get some bottles.”
“...Hm?”
“Head into the bar and grab us some bottles. Whiskeys. Either Void 7 Whiskey, or Void 26 Whiskey.”
Their eyes widened slightly, a mix of confusion and intrigue crossing their face. A silence lingered for a moment.
“Oh! Uh- sure!”
Mr Plant watched as they practically sprinted through the back door, somehow not tripping in the boots they were still in. He postponed the questions he had, as he dragged the body over to one of the dumpsters, as they came back out.
“I got them! Is there anything else we- or, you need?”
He responded by shaking his head. Quickly throwing the body into the dumpster, he took one of the bottles of alcohol, and smashed it over it. The new found acquaintance flinched harshly at the sound. He continued breaking the bottles, the alcohol dripping down into the dumpster and onto the body inside.
“...I know the timing is odd, I mean- you’re currently smashing whiskey over a body- but, uh- I’m Argos, by the way! What’s your name?”
Mr Plant looked at them for a moment, before turning his nametag to Argos, covering his first name with his thumb.
They fiddled with the drawstring of their jacket, as they were pulled back by Mr Plant. Watching him pull out a lighter, the pair stared at the flames now encapsulating the dumpster. It was a messy sight, yet when Mr Plant looked over, Argos’s eyes sparkled looking at the blaze.
“So, is there, uh… any particular reason you chose… to help me? H-help me hide the body- that is?”
They had a sheepish grin on their face, as if wanting a specific answer to leave his hands.
“Depends.”
“...Depends on what?”
Mr Plant took out his pocket knife, not as a threat, but as a precaution.
“Is there a reason you killed the frog?”
The glow from the (quite literal) dumpster fire drew attention to the sparks of worry in their eyes. They stepped back slightly, raising their hands to where he could see. However, Argos didn’t seem scared. They seemed flustered.
“Oh! Well-... I-I told you already! She was drunken out of her mind! She- she could have hurt somebody!”
“You could have just splashed her with water. We have cold ice water behind the bar.”
“I- did you SEE her? Even if she was directly under the water tap, it wouldn’t have been enough!”
“So you killed her because she could have hurt someone?”
Argos looked around nervously.
“...yes?”
Mr Plant could tell that they were horrid at ‘two truths, one lie’.
They’re lying.
Lifting the pocket knife a bit higher, he tilted his head.
“Here. Have a second chance. Go.”
“...Did you HEAR the things she was saying?! Well- of course you did, you- you were right next to her, but- someone like that shouldn’t just be walking around!”
Mr Plant looked at Argos intently. They weren’t looking around as frantically. Fidgeting with their gloves, they seemed more annoyed talking about the things the frog said.
They’re looking more truthful now.
“You killed her because she was insulting me?”
Argos’s eyes widened.
“Well- not just because she was talking bad about you specifically… but-”
Mr Plant tilted his head the other way. They were stammering again.
“...I would do that if anyone was insulting people!”
He simply nodded his head in response. Looking back towards the fire, he gestured towards the alley.
“We should move away from the fire. Which void do you live in?”
“Oh! I live at the void nextdoor!”
“You live right next to the bar?”
“No, I live just next to you!”
The both of them stared at eachother silently, Argos quickly realising their slip-up.
“How do you know which void I live in?”
“WHAT? I- I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THE FIRE- UH- WE SHOULD PROBABLY GET GOING!”
Yes. Because you have to hear sign language.
Brushing off the statement, he put his pocket knife back, the two of them sprinting away from the fire, and back out the alley. Argos pulled up the zip on their pale blue jacket, as Mr Plant readjusted his collar uncomfortably.
“...Plant- was it?”
He nodded his head.
“Mr Plant.”
“Mr Plant! Okay- uhm, well, Mr Plant, would you maybe want to- meet up, next week?”
His walking slowed temporarily. He hated socialisation. They had only had their first conversation ten minutes ago. That same conversation was held over a burning corpse.
Yet, something within Mr Plant wanted to meet them again.
“...Mr Plant?”
Deciding even introverts need company once in a while, Mr Plant nodded unwillingly. Argos smiled in response, gaining extra energy in their walk.
“Okay! Okay- so, uhm- should we meet at the bar next week? Saturday?”
Mr Plant shrugged.
“Saturday. Sure.”
Argos looked at him, their gaze softening. Smoothing out their skirt, they turned their attention to the brick walls of the buildings next to the pair of them.
Mr Plant watched them intently as they both walked. He couldn’t figure out what emotions he felt towards the drag artist.
Intrigue? Fascination? Hatred?
Love?
…No. Love isn’t something Mr Plant could experience.
Love isn’t something Mr Plant wanted to experience.
He refused to love anyone in or outside of the Void.
“...Mr Plant?”
He turned his attention back to Argos.
“This- this is my void, here! Feel free to visit anytime! Only if- only if you want to, obviously.”
Mr Plant watched them, as Argos quickly waved, almost stumbling over themself as they tried walking backwards in thigh-high boots.
Huh. They really do live in the void next door.
Continuing to walk to his void, Mr Plant let out a breath.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about Argos. All he knew, was that disposing of bodies at the bar may become the slightest bit easier.