After hours at the Black Cat Tavern is never for the faint of heart. It draws some disreputable crowds, often the disgruntled and underpaid. With a simple, stark interior, there isn’t much to say for its interior decorating. It’s a place to kick up your heels with a few holovids on the walls and plenty of alcohol to be found. The only major decoration is a black car sign hanging over the bar and a few pool tables in the rear. Though this evening is fairly quiet, two bar fights have already been broken up by burly bouncers. Keep vigil and alcohol flowing is a medium heighted Lunite woman of the typical pale complexion with short black hair and bright green eyes. It’s the late shift with Raisa.

Into the tavern wanders Raleigh Devrees – out of police uniform, clad in brown slacks and a black long-sleeve shirt. He’s arriving with a small cluster of passengers just off the last Earth-Luna shuttle of the night.

Another figure enters the tavern, hopping and skipping along like a kangaroo. In fact, he looks a lot like a kangaroo, with red fur. Mert bounces up to the bar, bouncing up and down on his feet as he looks at the available beverages

A flirtatious waitress makes a beeline for those seeking a seat and leads them off, away from the rowdier crowd. There aren’t too many people still left, mostly regulars that are too busy consuming alcohol to get too frisky with the newcomers. Raisa both eyes the fresh blood that’s entered but more of her attention goes to Mert. “Try the Pink Fuzzy Moonbomb,” she suggests. “But watch out, it hits the bottom of your stomach pretty hard.”

“Don’t think I can stomach anything pink, fuzzy, or bomb-like,” Devrees replies as he takes a seat at the bar. “But I’ll take an import bottled beer. Nothing from the tap.”

“Oooh. Fuzzy? Like me? I gotta try it!” Mert says, shuffling in his satchel to pull out a few credits, ordering the drink.

“Don’t blame me when you can’t hop outta here, fuzzface,” Raisa says with a smirk as she moves down the bar, fishing out a bottle for Devrees. “You want a glass or you good?” she asks with a quirked brow. She’s already in the process of concocting Mert’s special drink which is starting to fizzle and swirl pink.

The cop considers the bottle. He nods to Raisa, raising the bottle in salute. “It’ll do. Thanks.” He then watches in dread mixed with fascination as she prepares the mixture for Mert.

Mert watches the drink’s preparation with fascination. “Ooh. Fizzy!”

There’s a certain level of dread covering Raisa’s face as she takes one final ingredient in a clear bottle and pours a bit into the glass. There’s a loud swish and poof with some smoke rising up from the rim. “You sure about this?” she asks, even as she pushes the Pink Fuzzy Moonbomb across the counter to Mert. Devrees gets a wink. “You may wanna back up a little bit. This tends to hit even my regulars pretty hard.”

“Yeah,” the cop replies, edging away down the counter a few stools. “Thinking I should’ve brought a tarp.”

Mert, with a look of complete innocence, picks up the smoking drink and literally guzzles the entire glass in one go. “Ahhh.” he says, wiping his lips. There is a pause, then his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. Stiffening like a board, he falls backwards on the floor, out like a light.

Raisa tucks back her hair, shaking her head in amusement. She starts to say something as Mert takes the entire drink all at once, “I-uh-yeah… I got nothing.” The Lunite woman can do nothing but facepalm as Mert goes over and is out. She cradles her head gently, giving a deep sigh before she gives a signal to a bouncer. “Take him to the side so he doesn’t get trampled.” She looks back at Devrees. “Sure you don’t want one yourself?”

Devrees takes a drink from his bottle. Sets it on the counter. Shakes his head. He watches as the bouncer moves closer to drag Mert away. “Hope you don’t serve many of those. Seems bad for business to tank your patrons so quickly.”

Mert is unavailable for comment as the bouncer drags him off to a quiet spot to vegetate.

Raisa’s amusement is evident as she turns her attention back to Devrees. “It doesn’t usually hit so hard but if you decide to gulp the entire thing down all at once, you may run into some trouble,” she says with a shake of her head. “We’ll make sure that nothing happens to him until he wakes up. It’s not good to let my customers get robbed and murdered because of my drinks.”

The man with the beer nods. He peers at the slumbering Gankri. “I’m a little worried about how he’ll feel when he does wake up. He *may* think he’s been robbed and murdered.”

Mert snores.

Raisa waves a dismissive hand. “He may feel like he’s been stabbed a few times but definitely not robbed and murdered,” she replies cheerily. “He’s not the first or the last who can’t hold his liquor. We’ll let him sleep a little longer before trying to wake him up. Don’t want anyone thinking he’s a new chair or something.”

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By Brody

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