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It'd been a month, and it still seemed like every day, Battat felt Pluey and Jongler's absence. They spent more time together outside the room, sure, and every time he locked gazes with one of them, it was that same expression of disdain he'd seen when they left. But it wasn't just that. It was in the little things, too. A role he now had to play, a cup of coffee not given. Those long nights, laying on the lounge chair alone, were hell.
Tonight was one of those nights. Battat tucked his knees to his chest, hoping the pressure would make him feel less alone. He'd really fucked everything up, hadn't he? The nights he'd spent with Tenna... Were they worth losing his boys? They had to be.
He didn't want them to hate him. Jongler always looked so sad when they saw him. And Pluey? The disgust on Pluey's face made Battat want to throw up. He was scum.
Besides, because of Battat's double life, he'd showed up late to work nearly every day this week, and his supervisor had chewed him out. But no, keeping the entire studio safe from Tenna's wrath, taking it all on his own? That's not a good enough reason to excuse being 15 minutes late! Ah, well, it's not like the poor gal actually knew how much he was giving this studio.
Battat slowly sat up. There was no way he could sleep like this, and, for once, his board didn't seem particularly appealing. Thankfully, there was no last call at Ramb's bar. Now, a wiser man would have decided drinking was a terrible idea when he was like this, but right now he didn't give a shit.
When Battat entered the Green Room, he noticed a certain Pippins, Bluff, chatting with Ramb. Both had dark circles under their eyes, and while Bluff's words were sharp, they were laced with a strange fondness.
Battat hopped up on a stool, and both turned to him. Ramb waved slightly, and Bluff raised their glass at him.
"What are you doing here at this time of night?" Bluff's voice was rough, though not particularly high for a Pippins.
"What do you think?" Battat deadpanned. "Hey, Ramb, could I get a whiskey, on the rocks?"
Ramb nodded, abandoning whatever conversation he and Bluff had been having in favor of fetching the shot.
Bluff took a sip from his beer before speaking. "So, I heard you're something of a cross roader now, Greenie."
"Where the hell did you hear that?" Battat downed his shot, and gestured for Ramb to give him another.
"Oh, you know, through the grapevine." The wrist that Bluff wasn't holding their drink with moved in a circular motion. "Someone says that someone else said this and that, you get it."
"I am not a damn cross roader. Seriously, who'd you hear that from?"
"Midnight, I think? Not sure where she heard it from, though." Bluff finished what was in his mug off, before setting it down. Ramb took the glass, wiping it down. "She said something about cheating, two-timing, that sort of thing. Heard it from some Shadowguy, I think?"
Oh. Of course. That's what this was about. Battat clenched his fist tight enough that he swore he could feel himself breaking skin. Just lie through your teeth. "I am not loading my rolls, honest! I haven't even touched the tables in Angel knows how long."
"Looks like Boxcars owes me 80 points. Ramb would too, if the sad sack actually had any!" They laughed, and Ramb sighed, a small smile still on his face. Battat's chest ached. He downed yet another shot of whiskey. It burned. He deserved to burn.
"You're really going through those, huh?" Bluff clapped a hand against Battat's back, jolting a cough out of the greener Pippins. "Any reason you haven't cut him off, Ramb?"
"Luv, I know how he handles his liquor." Ramb's voice had a hint of amusement to it.
Battat picked up one of his empty shotglasses, and held it to his eye. "Wh... where do you even get the points to get this stuff, anyway? Y'don't even charge for it..." Battat's voice slurred. For whatever reason, Bluff's face flushed slightly. Must've been the booze.
"I've got a source who buys it for me." Ramb's face shifted into a smirk. "One who says they'd rather drink what I've made than anything else they can get here."
Bluff got up from their seat, flushed. Had his drink really hit him that suddenly? "It's getting late. I've got work to do in the morning. Sets won't... set themselves."
"Night, duck." Ramb's voice was soft as Bluff left, the Pippins mumbling a reply to Ramb.
"Whuz his problem, leavin' like that?" Battat reached for another shot. Ramb just smiled, and gave it to him.
"This'll be your last one for the night, luv. You're starting to look a bit too green."
"Hey!" Battat shot up from his slouch, and the world span. "I'll have you know I- Oh... god damn it... Jussa- Just a second..."
"Careful." Ramb shot a hand out, hovering a couple inches away from Battat. After a beat, he moved to get a glass for Battat. "You might want some water. Should I get Pluey or Jongler to come get you?"
Right, how could he forget? He was alone. He was worthless. Tears welled up in Battat's eyes. "'mnot... Not with them anymore."
"Hmm?" Ramb's eyebrows raised.
"I fucked it up." His words came out sharper than Battat intended. The glass was all but pushed into Battat's hands, and he instinctively took a sip, then another. As he finished the glass, Battat slumped onto the bar with a groan.
"I'll probably be taking this one, actually." Ramb scooped up the still full shotglass. "Wouldn't be right to let you get so pissed you pass out. Tenna'd have my head."
"Yyyyeah, he would. 'Cause I'm his..." Battat looked up, pointing to the sky. As he did, he saw Ramb holding the shot. "Wait, wait! You're takin' my drink! Whazzahell?"
"Sorry, luv. Didn't expect you to start-" A sob echoed out from the Z-Rank Room, cutting Ramb off.
Was that Tenna? He didn't usually get this upset until the sun was up. Ah, well. Battat got up. Ramb said something that Battat couldn't hear. He needed to help Tenna. That was his job, after all! He was Mike! That's all he was.