fandomtownies | Caritas, Saturday evening

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Caritas, Saturday evening

D'Argo had two problems.

The first problem was that while trying to hunt down junk food- any junk food at this point- he'd somehow managed to stumble across a copy of The Journal, left by the previous renter. And for whatever stupid reason, he'd watched it. And ended up bawling like a baby through the whole thing.

The second problem was that the zombie band tonight was very keen on playing slow, sad songs, and somehow the zombies didn't care how much you yelled at them if your eyes were welling up.

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Be warned. It's very on the emo today. Though there is occasionally some angry rock.

Chocolate liquer was totally the same thing, right?

Mike couldn't understand what was wrong with him today. He'd never felt so miserable before. To top it off, he was feeling really bloated. Hopefully alcohol would make him feel better.

"Yo, I'll take a beer," he said, without really looking at the bartender.

"You'll take what I give you!" D'Argo snapped, not sure why he was so touchy at someone talking to him all of a sudden.

"Okay, dude, take a chill pill!" said Mike. He was about to say that he'll drink whatever he got, as long as it had alcohol, when he got a look at D'Argo. "Whoa... where did you come from?"

"Outer space," he answered, suddenly self-conscious. He still looked okay, didn't he? He bet this guy thought he looked horrible, and scary, and was probably judging him.

He pounded a beer bottle onto the table, sliding it towards Mike without opening the cap.

"So, you're not from a Hellmouth or anything like that?" asked Mike, prying the cap off his beer bottle.

"Why would you assume I'm from a Hellmouth?" he asked, wondering if he really did look that scary. No one understood him. "Because I'm not."

"The other bartender was telling me all about slayers and stuff the other night," said Mike with a shrug. "Whatever. All I want is to drink and forget about how much my back hurts right now."

"You've got that too?" D'Argo asked, immensely glad that someone knew his pain.

"Yeah. I thought it was just the new bed. I just moved into my apartment and thought maybe I was getting a little too used to hotel beds," said Mike, rubbing his back.

"Maybe something's going aroun-"

He frowned at the zombie band, who'd started playing that frelling "Don't Want to Miss a Thing" song. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU?" he yelled at them.

"You ever hear of something that makes your back hurt and makes you feel all bloated and weepy?" asked Mike. "Because seriously, all I could think about today was how all of my buddies are settling down while I'm still single."

"You think you've got it bad?" D'Argo asked, leaning over the bar. Ooh, that helped his back. "My son slept with my fiancee and that's the only reason I'm not married and home right now."

No, it wasn't, but even his version was enough to make him tear up again.

"Oh, man, that's just awful," said Mike. "My last girlfriend? Turned out she was using the name and ID of a dead woman. When I went to her place to confront her about it, her husband was there."

That was just horrible.

"Why are people so cruel?" D'Argo asked, unable to understand it.

"It's just the women," said Mike. "What the heck is wrong with them? Don't they see that we have feelings?"

Reno wasn't in a good mood today. He was sore and everything was horrible and the boss had sent him to this stupid island and he hated the entire world. Stupid world. He had better things to do than deal with the world. It hated him. He hated it. They were even. Good.

Booze, he did like. He liked it a lot.

"What comes highly recommended, yo?"

Or just beach yourselves. Sounds like a great plan.

I love today.

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Caritas, Saturday evening

The Stage

The Bar

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The Lounge

OOC